Chapter3: My New Home
1602 Words
The drive was silent except for the engine's purr and the occasional crackling of a radio up front....Marcus communicating with the other vehicles in the convoy.
I pressed myself into the corner of the back seat, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Hours ago, I'd been dragged from the omega quarters like trash. Sold at auction like livestock. Hit rock bottom in every possible way.
And now I was in a luxury vehicle, wrapped in an expensive cloak, being driven to... where?
"Where are we going?" My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Marcus glanced back at me, his expression kind. "To King Damien's territory. His estate."
His territory. His estate. His property.
Because that's what I was now. Property he'd purchased.
"How... how far?"
"About four hours north." Marcus's tone was gentle, like he was talking to a spooked animal. "There's water in the console beside you if you're thirsty. And a blanket in the compartment under the seat if you're cold."
I stared at the console. At the expensive bottled water sitting in a holder. At the leather compartment that probably contained a blanket softer than anything I'd ever owned.
I didn't touch either.
This felt like a trap. Kindness was always a trap.
"Miss Seraphine...."
"Why?" The question burst out of me. "Why did he... why would he pay so much for..." I couldn't finish. For someone like me. For a defective omega worth nothing.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful. "King Damien doesn't explain his decisions to anyone. Not even to me, and I've served him for eighty years."
Eighty years. Right. Wolves lived longer than humans. Powerful wolves even longer.
How old was the king?
"But I can tell you this," Marcus continued. "Whatever his reasons, you're under his protection now. That means you're the safest wolf in the entire world. No one....no one....would dare harm what belongs to King Damien."
What belongs to King Damien.
Not who. What.
I pulled the cloak tighter, suddenly cold despite the warm air blowing from the vents.
"Try to rest," Marcus said gently. "It's a long drive, and you've had a difficult day."
Rest. As if I could sleep knowing I was being driven toward an unknown fate.
But exhaustion was a physical weight pressing down on me. The adrenaline that had kept me functioning through the dragging, the auction, the terror...all of it was draining away, leaving me hollow.
I leaned my head against the cool window and watched the darkness blur past.
Trees. Endless trees. We'd left the city behind an hour ago, heading deeper into wilderness.
His territory was remote, then. Isolated.
No one would hear me scream.
The thought should have terrified me more than it did. But I was too numb. Too empty.
My eyes drifted closed despite my best efforts.
*****
I woke to Marcus saying my name softly.
"Miss Seraphine. We're almost there."
I jerked upright, disoriented. My neck ached from the awkward position I'd fallen asleep in. My mouth was dry. The windows were still dark.....it was the middle of the night.
"How long was I asleep?"
"About three hours."
Three hours. I'd been unconscious for three hours, vulnerable, while being driven God knows where.
I looked out the window and my breath caught.
Gates. Massive black iron gates at least twenty feet tall, with intricate wolf designs woven into the metal. They swung open silently as our convoy approached, as if expecting us.
Beyond the gates, a long driveway stretched into darkness, lined with ancient trees whose branches formed a canopy overhead, blocking out even the moonlight.
This wasn't a pack house.
This was a fortress.
"Welcome to the Blackthorn Estate," Marcus said quietly.
The driveway seemed endless, winding through dense forest. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to escape, but there was nowhere to go. Just trees and darkness and whatever waited at the end of this road.
Then the trees opened up, and I stopped breathing.
The estate.
It wasn't a house. It wasn't even a mansion.
It was a castle.
Stone and glass and dark wood, sprawling across the landscape like something from a nightmare. Towers stretched toward the star-filled sky. Enormous windows glowed with warm light from within. Gardens surrounded it...perfectly manicured even in the darkness, illuminated by strategically placed lights.
This was where the King of Kings lived.
And now, apparently, where I lived too.
The convoy pulled to a stop in front of massive double doors. Other vehicles parked behind us.....the other kings, I realized with fresh terror. They'd come too.
Marcus opened my door. "This way, miss."
I couldn't move. Couldn't make my legs work.
"It's alright," he said gently, offering his hand. "I know it's overwhelming. But you're safe here. I promise."
That word again. Safe.
I didn't believe it. But I took his hand anyway, because what choice did I have?
My bare feet touched smooth stone...the driveway was paved with expensive tile, still warm from the day's sun. The grey cloak dragged behind me like a train.
The massive doors opened, and staff emerged. So many staff. They lined up on either side of the entrance, heads bowed, waiting.
For him.
My breath caught as movement drew my eye to the left.
The kings were emerging from their vehicles. Eight of them...massive, powerful, radiating authority. The blonde one....King Raphael, I remembered...caught my eye and nodded slightly. Almost... kindly?
But I didn't see him. The ninth king. The one who'd bought me.
"He'll arrive shortly," Marcus said, reading my thoughts. "He's traveling separately. Come....let me get you inside."
He guided me up the steps toward the entrance. I felt every eye on me...the staff, the other kings, everyone watching the defective omega the King of Kings had paid a fortune for.
I kept my head down, my silver-white hair falling forward to hide my burning face.
Inside, the entrance hall stole what little breath I had left.
Marble floors stretched in every direction, polished to a mirror shine. The ceiling soared three stories high, with crystal chandeliers that sparkled like captured starlight. Dark wood paneled the walls, and portraits hung everywhere
wolves in human form and shifted, their painted eyes following me as I passed.
This wasn't just wealth. This was power. Centuries of it.
An older woman in a crisp grey uniform approached, her expression stern but not unkind. "I'm Margaret, the head housekeeper. I'll show you to your quarters."
Quarters. Not room. Quarters.
I followed her in a daze, too overwhelmed to speak. We climbed a grand staircase....marble with an iron railing wrought in the shape of wolves. Up one floor. Then another. Then another.
Higher and higher into the castle until my legs burned and my breath came short.
Finally, Margaret stopped in front of an ornate wooden door. "Your suite, miss."
She opened it, and I stepped inside.
I forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't a room. It was an apartment.
A sitting area with plush sofas the color of storm clouds, a fireplace already crackling with warmth. Beyond it, a bedroom with an enormous four-poster bed draped in soft grey linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dark forest below. Everything was decorated in shades of grey and white and silver...elegant, beautiful, and somehow... feminine.
Like it had been designed specifically for someone.
For me.
"The bathroom is through there," Margaret gestured to a door on the left. "Fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Toiletries provided. If you need anything, pull that cord...." she pointed to a braided rope near the bed, "....and someone will come."
I stared at the room, unable to process it.
"I don't understand," I whispered.
Margaret's expression softened. "This is your suite, dear. King Damien had it prepared for you."
Ice flooded my veins. "Prepared? But he only just bought me. How could he have..."
I stopped.
Unless he'd known. Unless he'd planned this.
Unless he'd been planning it for longer than just tonight.
The terror I'd been holding back crashed over me like a wave. My hands started shaking. My breath came in short, sharp gasps.
"Easy, child." Margaret moved toward me, but I stumbled backward.
"What does he want from me?" The words came out broken, desperate. "Why would he...what am I supposed to..."
"I don't know, dear. Truly, I don't." Her voice was gentle, pitying. "But you're safe here. No one will harm you under the King's protection. You have my word."
Safe. Safe. Safe.
Everyone kept saying that word, but it felt like a lie.
"I'll have dinner sent up," Margaret continued. "You must be starving. Try to rest. Tomorrow will be... easier. I hope."
She left, closing the door softly behind her.
I stood in the middle of the beautiful, terrifying room, wrapped in his cloak, trembling.
Then my knees gave out.
I sank to the floor, the grey fabric pooling around me, and let the fear finally take over.
What did he want from me?
Why pay so much?
Why this room, this kindness, this carefully constructed cage?
And why....why....did something inside me stir every time I thought of those burning silver eyes?
I didn't understand any of it.
But as I sat there on the floor of my gilded prison, one thing became horrifyingly clear:
My life was no longer my own.
It belonged to him now.
To the King of Kings.
To Damien Blackthorn.
And I had no idea what he planned to do with me.
- Writer
