THE ALPHA PACT: Five Wolves One Obsession

Chapter 4: The Girl Without a Wolf

The guest room at Wolfe Estate was bigger than Seraphina's entire apartment, and she resented every square foot of it.

She hadn't slept. She had lain on a bed the size of a small country, staring at the carved ceiling and holding her wrist up to the dark. The mark had faded to a thin silver outline by dawn, like a scar from a very old burn. It still pulsed, faintly, whenever she thought about the pendant.

At seven, she gave up, showered, and found that someone had left clean clothes on the chair. Her size. Her favourite brand of jeans. That's not creepy at all, she told the empty room.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Eleven messages from Mira. WHERE ARE YOU

Sera. The whole ballroom is saying the Alphas knelt to you. Please tell me that's a metaphor.

Seraphina's stomach dropped. She typed, I'm fine. Can't talk. Don't repeat that to anyone, and then sat very still, understanding something she should have understood last night.

Three hundred wolves. Three hundred people who had watched five Alphas storm out of a gala after a girl. She found Darius in the breakfast room, hunched over a coffee he hadn't touched. He looked like he hadn't slept either.

It's out, isn't it? she said. He didn't pretend. That was one of the things she loved about her brother. Not the details. Just that something happened. Rumours are already circling. Half the court thinks you're someone's secret mate. The other half thinks you're a threat.

A threat? I'm a second year literature student.

Sera. He rubbed his face. Someone planted an assassin in the Citadel, with a real badge, to kill you. And last night, everyone saw why you matter. You're not safe at home. You're not safe at university. The gathering didn't expose you to one enemy. It put a target on your back for every enemy who ever wanted leverage over the Alpha King.

That's insane. That's politics. I want to go home. I know. I have a seminar at ten. An essay due Friday. A life, Darius.

I know. And I'm sorry. His voice cracked on the last word, and the anger went out of her, because her brother didn't crack. He was the kind of man who handled grief by scheduling it. I would give anything for you not to be part of this.

Then why didn't you tell me about any of it? The pact, the families, whatever's going on with the Original...

Darius went very still. I never said that word, he said slowly. The assassin did.

He held her eyes a moment too long. Then he looked down at his coffee. I don't know what he meant. I swear.

It was the truth, she thought. Or most of it. She had watched Darius lie since she was five, and he always did the same thing, that small unguarded flinch at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't flinched. But he hadn't looked at her, either.

Draven found her in the garden. She had fled there after breakfast, needing air and silence and a bench where nobody could speak to her. The estate gardens were absurdly beautiful, with clipped hedges, a mirror still pond, and white roses climbing old stone. It was a place built by someone who wanted the world to look orderly.

He didn't speak at first. He stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, looking tired in a way she had never once seen him look.

I owe you an apology, he said finally. For last night. I questioned you like a prisoner. She blinked. Wow. Okay. That's the second surprise this week.

Don't get used to it. I won't.

The corner of his mouth moved. It wasn't a smile, but it was in the neighbourhood.

I want to protect you, he said. That's not a request I'm making lightly. I'm asking you to stay here until we understand what's happening. For how long?

Until it's safe. That's not a number.

He exhaled. Security will accompany you everywhere. Your phone and messages will be monitored. You'll go nowhere without notifying me. University is suspended until further notice. You'll eat what the estate kitchen provides, sleep in the room we assign...

Stop. Seraphina...

Listen to yourself. She stood. You just described a cell. A very nice one, with roses.

I'm describing safety. You're describing control, and you're calling it the same thing. Her voice shook with anger and something worse, an old, familiar ache. My whole life I've been the fragile one. The wolfless one. The girl everyone had to be careful with. I don't want another man deciding what I'm strong enough to handle.

He stepped closer. The scent of cedar smoke and cold rain reached her again, and her heart did something stupid.

Then tell me what you want, he said, low. And I'll find a way to make it safe. She stared at him. It was a good answer. It was almost a right answer. But a muscle jumped in his jaw as he said it, and she knew, as clearly as she knew her own name, that he wasn't asking. He was bargaining.

I want to stop being managed, she said quietly. That's the one thing I can't promise.

Honesty. At least that. She almost respected him for it.

Then we have a problem, she said, and turned to leave. She made it three steps. Then the world went still.

Not silent. Still, like the held breath before a storm. The roses stopped moving. The pond froze flat as glass. Behind her, Draven said her name sharply, and she heard it as though from the bottom of the sea.

Because underneath her own heartbeat, steady and human, there was another. Slower. Heavier. Patient. Thump.

Seraphina pressed a hand to her chest, and her breath left her in a whisper.

The second heartbeat answered her touch.

And somewhere deep inside her, a voice that was not hers, not human, and not at all afraid, said softly: At last.