The pack House
1129 Words
Elara woke to the faint sound of birds outside the window and the low hum of voices somewhere in the distance. For a second, she didn’t know where she was. The mattress beneath her was softer than the thin bed she had at home, and the blanket was thick and warm. Then the memories hit her—the forest, running away, being caught, the prison cell, and finally Damon.
Her chest tightened at the thought of him.
She sat up slowly, her bare toes touching the cool wooden floor. The room was large and tidy, with curtains pulled aside to let the morning light in. She wasn’t used to such space. Everything about this place felt different, almost suffocating, as though she had been thrown into a world she didn’t belong in.
A knock came at the door before she could gather herself.
“Elara,” a soft voice called. “May we come in?”
Elara hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
The door opened, and three women stepped inside, dressed in neat, plain dresses. Their eyes were kind, not judgmental, and that gave her a small breath of relief. The one in front, an older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, smiled warmly.
“I am Maren,” she said, bowing her head lightly. “These are Lysa and Kira. We are here to serve in the Alpha’s house. If you need anything, you only have to ask.”
Elara blinked, caught off guard by their politeness. “I… thank you.”
Kira, the younger maid with curly brown hair, grinned. “You’ll get used to the place. It looks big and cold at first, but you’ll see—it isn’t so bad.”
Lysa, quiet and steady, gave a nod of agreement.
Maren stepped forward with folded clothes in her arms. “The Alpha asked that we help you get ready. Breakfast will be served soon.”
At the mention of Damon, Elara’s pulse quickened. She nodded quickly and let them guide her. They handed her a simple but elegant dress, brushed through her tangled hair, and made sure she looked presentable.
When she was ready, they led her down the long hallway. The pack house smelled faintly of cedarwood and burning logs, with every wall decorated with history—portraits, tapestries, weapons mounted in pride. Elara’s eyes kept wandering, taking everything in.
They reached the main hall, where Damon stood waiting at the long dining table. He didn’t smile, didn’t soften when he looked at her. But his dark eyes flickered briefly over her before he motioned to the seat at his right.
“Sit.”
Elara obeyed silently.
The food smelled delicious—roast meat, bread, and spiced tea. Elara hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she tasted the first bite. Still, the silence pressed on her. Damon ate with steady, sharp movements, his attention focused but unreadable.
At last, he broke the silence. “The maids will see to you. They are loyal. Trust them before you trust anyone else in this house.”
Elara looked up at him, surprised. His tone was firm, but she caught something else beneath it. A warning? Protection? She couldn’t tell.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He gave a small nod and returned to his meal.
After breakfast, Damon stood and said simply, “Come.”
She followed him as he guided her through the house. His presence was commanding, and every wolf they passed lowered their head in respect. Elara felt their eyes on her, whispers brushing at her back. She tried not to shrink under their stares.
“This is the east wing,” Damon explained as they walked. “The maids’ quarters are here. If you need them at night, they’re always nearby.”
He continued the tour, showing her the library, the training grounds, and the wide courtyard where warriors sparred under the sun. Elara paused to watch them, their strength and speed far greater than anything she had seen at home.
“You will train here too,” Damon said from her side.
Her head snapped toward him. “Me?”
“You’re my mate,” he said simply. “That makes you a target. You will learn to defend yourself.”
Elara swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if she could fight like them, but the way he spoke made it sound like a command, not a suggestion.
They continued walking until they reached the back garden. It was quiet here, away from the sharp eyes of the pack. Flowers bloomed in neat rows, and the sound of water trickled from a stone fountain. For a moment, Elara almost relaxed.
Damon stopped, his gaze on her. “This is the only part of the house I come to for silence. If you need air, come here. But you do not leave the grounds.”
She nodded, though the reminder stung. She was free from the cell, but she was still trapped.
The day passed slowly. The maids showed her how things worked in the house, offered her tea, and chatted kindly. They treated her like someone welcome, not like a prisoner. Still, Elara felt the weight of Damon’s presence, even when he wasn’t in the room.
By nightfall, her thoughts grew heavy. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the window. The forest outside was dark, but it whispered to her. She missed her family, even with their flaws. She missed her sister’s laughter, her father’s quiet strength, her mother’s sharp voice.
She couldn’t keep silent anymore.
Elara rose and padded down the hall, her heart thudding with each step. She found Damon in what looked like a study, seated at a desk with papers scattered before him. A single lamp lit the room, casting shadows across his sharp features.
He looked up when she entered. “You should be asleep.”
Elara hesitated in the doorway. “I needed to talk to you.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. “Speak.”
Her hands twisted together nervously. “I… I want to go home.”
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Damon’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened.
“You want to leave,” he said flatly.
Elara nodded quickly. “Not forever. I just… I need to see them. To tell them I’m safe. Please.”
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. She felt her throat tighten, afraid he would simply refuse. Then, slowly, he stood.
His presence loomed as he stepped closer, his voice low and steady.
“Fine,” he said at last. “But only on one condition.”
Elara’s breath caught. She stared at him, waiting, her heart racing with fear and hope.
- Writer
