Chapter 4
1214 Words
Elara’s POV
I woke up screaming.
My hand flew to my chest, clutching the fabric of the shirt, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I gasped for air, expecting to smell the moldy dampness of the servant’s quarters. I expected to hear Jessica banging on my door, yelling at me to scrub Alpha’s floors.
But there was no shouting. There was no mold.
There was only silence. And the scent of dark chocolate and pine.
I blinked, my vision adjusting to the morning light streaming through a wall made entirely of glass. I wasn't on my cot. I was in a bed that felt like a cloud, wrapped in sheets made of black silk.
Memory crashed into me like a physical blow. The rejection. The woods. The man with the red eyes.
"Damon," I whispered.
I sat up, looking down at myself. I was wearing a men's dress shirt. It was massive on me, the hem hitting my mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up clumsily.
I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room was empty.
"Hello," I called out. My voice sounded tiny in the massive space.
No answer.
I crept toward the heavy wooden door. I should leave. I should run while he was gone. I twisted the handle, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it turned easily.
I stepped out into a hallway that looked more like an art gallery than a home. The ceilings were twenty feet high, and the walls were lined with abstract paintings that probably cost more than my entire Pack's net worth.
I walked softly, trying to be invisible. That was my survival instinct: Be quiet, be small, and maybe they won't hit you.
I turned a corner and nearly collided with a wall of muscle.
I gasped, stumbling back.
It wasn't a wall. It was a man. He was huge blonde, scar-faced, and radiating a Beta aura so strong it made my teeth ache.
He was wearing a tactical vest over a black T-shirt, and there was a gun strapped to his hip.
He looked down at me, and his eyes widened in sheer panic.
He didn't attack. He didn't sneer. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head so low his chin touched his chest.
"Luna!" he barked, his voice trembling slightly. "Forgive me! I didn't hear you approach!"
I froze, pressing my back against the wall. "I... I'm not a Luna. I'm just..."
"Please," the man pleaded, not looking up. Sweat was beading on his forehead. "Please don't tell the Alpha I blocked your path. He will tear my throat out."
I stared at him. This man was a Beta. He could snap my neck with two fingers. And he was shaking? Because I bumped into him?
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"Kael, my lady," he said, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. "Head of Security for the Blackwood Estate. The Alpha ordered me to guard your door, but... I was distracted by a sensor glitch. Please. If he knows I have failed..."
"Stand up," I said, my confusion overriding my fear. "I'm not going to tell him anything."
Kael stood slowly. He towered over me, but his body language was shrunken, defensive. He looked at me like I was a porcelain bomb about to explode.
"The Alpha left orders," Kael said, reciting them like a lifeline. "You are to be given anything you ask for. Food. Clothes. Anything. But you are not to leave this floor until he returns."
"Is he... is he holding me prisoner?" I asked, the old fear curling in my gut.
Kael looked horrified. "Prisoner? Goddess, no. He is... securing the perimeter. For your safety."
"My safety?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "I'm a wolfless reject, Kael. No one cares enough to hunt me."
Kael’s expression shifted. He looked at me with a strange mix of pity and awe.
"With all due respect, my lady... you have no idea who he is, do you?"
"I know his name is Damon," I said.
Kael let out a sharp, hysterical breath. He glanced down the hallway as if checking for listening devices.
"Damon Blackwood isn't just an alpha," Kael whispered, leaning slightly. "He is the King of Alphas. He owns half the city. He crushed the Northern Rebellion in three days. They call him the 'Wolf of Death.'"
Kael swallowed hard.
"I have worked for him for five years. I have seen him kill men for looking at him wrong. I have seen him burn down packs for disrespecting a border treaty."
Kael pointed a trembling finger at the oversized shirt I was wearing.
"But I have never... never... seen him let anyone touch his things. Let alone wear his clothes."
Kael looked me in the eye, his fear replaced by intense seriousness.
"He isn't keeping you here to hurt you, Lady Elara. He is keeping you here because if you walked out that front door, he would burn the entire world down to bring you back."
My breath hitched.
He would burn the world down.
It sounded romantic in stories. In reality, standing in this silent, terrifying hallway with a man who looked ready to faint from fear, it sounded suffocating.
"I'm hungry," I said abruptly, needing to change the subject before I panicked again.
Kael snapped back to attention. "Of course. The chef has prepared breakfast. Please, follow me."
He led me toward the elevator. As we walked, I noticed something else.
The maids.
Two women in crisp uniforms were dusting a vase at the end of the hall. As soon as they saw Kael and me, they didn't just step aside.
They turned their faces to the wall and stood perfectly still, like statues, until we passed.
It wasn't respect. It was terror.
This is a house of fear, I realized. Everyone here is walking on eggshells.
And yet, the man they feared was the same man who had carried me through the woods and washed the mud off my feet.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a dining room that looked out over a vast infinity pool. The table was set with enough food to feed an army of pancakes, fruit, eggs, bacon.
And there, sitting at the head of the table with a tablet in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other, was Damon.
He looked up as I entered.
The red glow in his eyes flared instantly. He didn't smile. He didn't look scary. He just looked... intense. Like a starving man looking at a feast.
"Elara," he rumbled, his voice vibrating through the floorboards.
Kael bowed instantly and backed into the elevator, abandoning me.
"Good morning," Damon said, setting the tablet down. He stood up. He was wearing a fresh suit, immaculate and sharp. He looked like a billionaire CEO. Not a monster.
"Come here," he commanded softly, holding out a hand.
I hesitated. Kael’s words rang in my ears. Wolf of Death.
But then I looked at his hand. It was the same hand that had brushed the hair from my face last night.
I took a step forward.
I had walked into the lion's den. And for some reason... I didn't want to leave.
- Writer
