Trapped in the Den of Alphas

Chapter 7

“What’s your name anyway?” Mateo asks, opening the door that leads out into the hallway.

“Eden,”

“I’m Mateo.”

“Yes, I know. I heard the others say it the night I was brought here.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” he scoffs. “They were pretty pissed at me.”

I become distracted as I look around the semi-familiar hallway. It really does appear different in the daylight. I can now see that the thick walls are paneled with dark mahogany wood and decorated with various oil paintings of all shapes and sizes. The floorboards have elaborate red and black patterns that have worn over the years. The ceilings are high, indicating the sheer size of this place. Of course, it’s not anywhere near the size of the Palace of Morween, but it’s not an average house either. A mansion might be a better description. This floor of the house seems to be rectangular. I stop momentarily to look over the balcony that stretches around the whole corridor. It looks down onto the floor below, where there is a large sitting room with patterned, dusty sofas and old, antique furniture positioned around a grand fireplace.

“Come on,” Mateo says quietly, hurrying me along again.

I tear my eyes away and follow him down a secluded corridor. We stop at the end of the hallway, and I notice a set of narrow steps leading upward and a set leading down. “Where do these go?” I ask, pointing up at the more intriguing option of the two.

Mateo follows my gaze but his voice lowers to a whisper. “Con’s quarters. Don’t go up there,” he says quietly, gesturing to the lower set instead. “You take these stairs down to the kitchens and the storage cupboards where we keep the cleaning supplies.”

He begins his descent, and I can’t help but stare upward one last time before following on. “Cleaning supplies?!” I scoff as Mateo leads the way. “This place doesn’t look like it’s seen a feather duster in years.”

He turns his head to look up at me. “I’m afraid that’s where you come in, Eden.”

I roll my eyes but don’t bother fighting him on it. I’ve already agreed to this deal anyway. We get closer to the kitchen, and men’s loud, gruff voices and intermittent laughter fill the air. I swallow nervously as Mateo pushes the door open into a big kitchen with a square wooden table and some chairs. The chairs are currently occupied by them. The wolf-men.

Immediately, the room descends into silence, and just like that, all eyes are on me. I look around at the faces of the men slowly. There aren’t as many here as the night I was captured. In fact, there can’t be more than five in the room, but their expressions haven’t changed much since that first encounter.

“I see the elf has finally stopped causing a f*****g racket,” one of the men growls, looking me up and down in contempt.

I instantly recognize him as the man who tried to smack me across the face on the night I was captured. Rocco. That was his name. I made sure at the time to burn the damn thing into my memory.

“She’s just here to get some cleaning supplies,” Mateo states, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“We should be sending that pretty little head of hers back to Morween in a box!”

“Then you take that up with Con, Rocco. You know his orders on this.” Mateo hits back.

Rocco’s jaw clenches angrily, but he doesn’t reply. Then, one of the men purposely knocks a jug of milk off the edge of the table. The noise makes me jump as it smashes upon contact with the stone floor, and I stare at the mess for a moment as my heart sinks in my chest.

“Well…good luck, elf,” Rocco says with a sneer, standing up to leave the room as the others follow behind, each one looking at me suspiciously on the way.

Once the room has cleared, Mateo walks over to a cupboard to open it up for me. “This is where you’ll find everything you need. You’ll be responsible for cleaning and perhaps even cooking soon if they learn to trust you enough—”

“They shouldn’t,” I answer under my breath, picking up a bottle of toxic-looking liquid to examine it.

“f*****g hell…whatever you do, don’t let them hear you say that s**t, Eden.”

I place the bottle back on the shelf and turn around quickly to look at him.

“Why would they ever trust me, Mateo?” I question. “I’m under no illusions. It’s probably high time we address the elephant in the room.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his body growing stiff.

“I know that all of you here wouldn’t have been around for the war, but—”

He immediately shakes his head and holds up his hand to stop me mid-sentence. “Let’s leave the elephant in peace for now,” he says insistently.

“But—”

“I said we should leave it,”

I swallow carefully and nod my head before he takes a step backward.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Clean until your heart’s content, but like I said, don’t try anything, Eden. There are plenty of uhh…safeguards in place around the house. No one in or out without Con’s say so. If you try to leave, not only will you fail, but I won’t be able to stop them. You’ll be on your own.”

“Okay,” I answer, realizing that he’s right.

He turns to leave, and I reach out to touch his arm. “Mateo,” I say, causing him to pause for a second. “Thanks.”

He nods and then disappears to leave me alone in the closet.

I can’t believe I just thanked someone for making me a literal servant, but anything is better than being stuck in that room for another long day. I turn my head to look at the supplies on the grimy shelves. I’m no stranger to hard work. Even after moving to the palace, where being waited on by servants is a normal part of life, I still prefer to do my own cleaning and chores. However, I can’t deny that a house as vast and neglected as this is overwhelming. The place is falling apart!

I grab a bucket and scrubbing brush, heading back into the kitchen. I start by cleaning up the spilled milk and then the broken jug, sweeping it into the trash. I look up to the small, narrow window above the sink and catch sight of the green, overgrown grass outside.

What kind of safeguards do they have in place?

Have they used some sort of magic to keep this place secure?

I have no idea, but I’m not stupid enough to try my luck until I know all the facts.

After cleaning the rest of the kitchen, I grab a broom and make my way back up the stone steps. This time I head along the corridor and downstairs to the main sitting room in the center of the house. Again, I hear the familiar sound of male voices, but I try to pay them no mind, starting in a quiet corner of the room where I begin sweeping the floor. Despite my best efforts, the hateful stares have me on edge. One of these beasts may choose to attack at any given moment, and I’d be powerless to stop it.

I lift my hand to tuck my loose hair behind my ears and hazard a look sideways at my unnerving audience. A few are still watching me, but others have thankfully moved on to other activities. Some are playing cards in the opposite corner of the room, and a couple are napping on the dusty sofas. A few more are scattered around, chatting or reading, and I hear footsteps overhead, letting me know that some are upstairs too.

My eyes are drawn up to the balcony of the next floor, and it’s then that I see him.

Their leader. The man with those honey-colored eyes. Those eyes that are trained on me at this very second.

I stare back at him as if in some kind of trance, unable to look away from his imposing figure. If possible, he looks even more intimidating and intense than the night I arrived. His large hands grip the wooden barrier in front of him, his body tense and still.

I swallow nervously, unsure of what to do. It’s ironic, really. After all of my blatant attempts to get his attention earlier, you’d think that I’d be jumping up and down like a lunatic right now, but I’m not. Now I have it…his full attention…I have no idea what the hell to do with myself.

His dark brows furrow as he watches me, and I notice his eyes flick over my disheveled appearance. The intensity of his gaze leaves me squirming inside. Suddenly, he tears his eyes away from mine, looking around the men one last time before turning and heading for the stone steps leading to his quarters.