THE HAUNT THAT BOUND US

chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

The lust in their eyes was not reckless, and that was what unsettled me. If they had been crude, loud, or obvious, I could have hated them easily; I could have dismissed them as animals, simple and predictable. But they weren’t. They studied us. Measured us. Their gazes moved the way warriors examined a battlefield, calculating distance, weakness, value. Hunger existed, yes, but it was leashed, controlled, disciplined. That kind of restraint was far more dangerous. Livia Romano was still on his lap, her curls pressed into the Alpha’s hand, which rested there with deliberate firmness, not pulling, not violent, just a quiet reminder of his power. Her spine remained straight, her smile strained at the edges, an act of compliance, of performance, yet her posture said she would not be broken. The rules had not been violated yet, but my jaw tightened regardless. “You have to meet them,” Liana rasped beside me, her voice like broken glass, cautious yet resolute. She favored one leg as she stepped forward, but she held her chin high, refusing to let them see her bend. Pride, even in pain, radiated from her every movement. Several Alphas lifted their heads simultaneously, and I felt it before I understood it the subtle shift in the air, the scent of another powerful wolf who had touched her lingering faintly on her skin. To men like these, it was not shame. It was provocation. Something in my chest burned. I hated the way they looked at her, not because she was desirable, but because she was wounded and they found it interesting.

“If they touch her, I’ll. ” The words escaped before I could stop them, but Trissi snapped quietly, “They won’t. Not before the clock. If they break neutrality, the Council intervenes. Politics is the only thing even Alphas fear.” Politics, not morality. That distinction was crucial. The rules were not about protecting us; they were about maintaining balance between them. I swallowed the anger that threatened to rise. Structure meant leverage, and leverage meant survival. The room seemed to divide itself without walls. Two Alphas played cards near the hearth, cigar smoke curling lazily around them; one stood by the window, arms folded, watching without engaging; another leaned against the far wall, expression unreadable, as if observing a market rather than a room full of prey. Hierarchy existed even among predators. The girls moved differently now, each subtle brush of hand against forearm, fingers grazing collars, murmurs spoken just close enough to warm skin. One girl dragged her scent across her wrist with deliberate care. They were not begging; they were bargaining. No girl wanted to return home unclaimed, not out of shame, but because being unchosen carried consequences. It weakened your family, shifted alliances, and altered power structures. Our bodies had become currency, and the Alphas understood it. They did not have to chase; they only had to wait. My stomach twisted, not from fear, but from clarity. I stepped forward not toward Livia, but toward control.

A gust of wind slipped through the cracked window, lifting the hem of my dress to brush my thigh with cool air. I could have pressed it down immediately, but I didn’t. Several gazes shifted, heat traveling up my spine, a pulse of awareness, attention. For one suspended second, I felt it—terrifying and intoxicating. Power does not always roar; sometimes it simply refuses to retreat. I let the fabric settle naturally and continued walking, each step measured and steady. My heart beat harder than I wanted, but my shoulders remained relaxed. If I was prey, I would not move like it. Alpha Elijah stood near the wall exactly where I remembered, watching, separate, not circling, not performing dominance. He was not the largest in the room, nor the loudest, but that made him more dangerous. “Alpha Elijah,” I greeted, taking a champagne flute from a passing tray to occupy my hands, to hide any tension I could not erase. Recognition flickered in his eyes. “Elena Moretti,” he said slowly, deliberately, as if my name itself carried weight. I sipped carefully, recalling my teacher’s instructions—walk gently, move slower than him, sip, let your eyes speak. I had hated those lessons once, but tonight, they steadied me. “You remember me,” I said lightly. “A girl like you is difficult to misplace,” he replied, and his tone carried no flirtation, only assessment. “My eyes?” I asked. He shook his head. “My lips?” A faint smile. “Neither. It’s the restraint,” he murmured quietly as he stepped closer, halting just within the invisible boundary the rules enforced. “You don’t perform.” Something in my chest tightened as I watched Livia shift across the room, the Alpha’s hand sliding from her hair to her waist. She laughed, bright but brittle, and he leaned close to whisper something into her ear. She stilled immediately. Every muscle in my body tensed, aching to intervene, but instinct without position was suicide, and power without leverage was noise. “Drop your head,” Elijah murmured suddenly, and my gaze snapped to him. “Why?” “Because you’re thinking about crossing the floor,” he explained quietly. Not mockery. Observation. I saw another Alpha rise from the card table, smoke trailing behind him as he studied Livia with renewed interest. Two, I noted silently. The rules allowed one claim; if more than one lunged when the clock began, they would fight over her. Cold understanding settled in my stomach. “If you interfere before the Chase,” Elijah added, voice low, “you violate neutrality. Your family answers for that. Not you.” My father’s face flashed in my mind—his reputation, his standing, the cost of my impulse. I exhaled slowly, letting calculation override instinct. Politics over pride. I lowered my gaze—not in submission, but in deliberate assessment, giving nothing away. When I lifted it again, I met Elijah’s eyes with careful intention. “You’re very calm for a man standing in a hunting ground,” I said. “I don’t hunt chaos,” he replied evenly. “I select advantage.” Across the room, Livia slid off the Alpha’s lap at his quiet command. Her dress remained intact, her dignity… less certain. The second Alpha returned to his seat. No rules were broken, no intervention triggered, yet the air had shifted. Elijah’s fingers brushed the stem of my glass, tilting it subtly without touching my skin. “You want a claim,” he said softly. “But not ownership.” The precision of his words unsettled me. “And you?” I asked. “Do you want obedience… or challenge?” A long pause. “I want a partner who understands consequence,” he finally said. My pulse steadied. Good. I was done being afraid of consequences. Across the room, Liana stood taller despite her limp, allowing an Alpha to circle her slowly, inhale near her neck, and find nothing but controlled poise. The clock had not begun, yet something inside me had shifted. I remained in a room full of predators, still a girl expected to be claimed, still a piece on their board—but no longer moving blindly. Elijah leaned closer, voice low, just enough to reach me and no one else. “Don’t interfere,” he warned softly. Not a command. Not a threat. A caution. I met his gaze and held it. For the first time since entering the room, I smiled—not because I felt safe, not because I was chosen, but because I finally understood the game. And I intended to survive it.