Home is An Even More Dangerous Place
1375 Words
Valeria's POV
23:30. The minute hand sank to the bottom.
In the grand hall of the Nightveil mansion, the lights were as bright as day. The crystal chandelier’s harsh glare fell from above, illuminating the carpet’s fibers in such detail that it felt oppressive, as though the ceiling was pressing down, leaving barely enough space to breathe.
Lycan maids lined the walls, heads bowed and backs hunched, hardly daring to breathe. I knelt in the center of the hall, my right hand bandaged, my body marked by whip scars.
Others were scattered around, some kneeling, some standing.
Eric had arrived. But would he help me—or destroy me?
At the entrance, Eric halted in a black and gold smart wheelchair. He wore a white suit, a lead-grey blanket draped over his legs. As usual, he lounged lazily against the back of the chair, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, the lenses sharp as blades, slicing away any warmth left in the room.
“Alpha Marcus.”
Under the chandelier’s chilling light, Eric’s gaze lifted slowly, his pupils unmoving as they landed on Marcus’s scheming face. The air turned frigid.
“I am that ‘lover’ who took Valeria away,” he said, his words falling like hail, crashing through the tension in the room.
Marcus twitched, forcing a fawning smile. “Ah, Alpha Eric, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
The others quickly chimed in:
“Yes, Alpha Eric, it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“We were talking about someone else!”
Despite the hall being packed with werewolves, it felt as empty as a stadium, their echoes fading into silence as Eric remained unresponsive.
After a moment, Marcus inched forward, his grin strained. “You and my daughter... know each other?”
Buzz…
Eric’s response came in the quiet whir of his wheelchair rolling across the floor. He ignored Marcus and passed through the line of fawning Nightveil pack members, halting in front of me.
Then Eric extended his hand towards me, palm up, catching the chandelier’s light.
I stared at it, my battered body struggling to sit upright. My gaze traced the delicate lines of his palm, exuding an effortless grace. A centimeter of shirt cuff peeked out, and the cufflinks gleamed softly.
Then my eyes traveled upward, noting the faint creases at his elbow, until they met his face. Eric’s gaze was deep and unyielding, pulling me into an abyss.
Gentle?
No, the word could never apply to him. But at this moment, beneath the crystal chandelier, he exuded an aura that felt almost divine, like a god bestowing rare mercy.
I raised my hand, my fingers falling into his, and he helped me to my feet. My black dress swept the floor with a soft rustle.
“Eric,” I whispered, barely audible.
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of irritation crossing his face at the intimacy of the name. But he didn’t object, pulling me closer.
“My mistake, escorting you only to the door, Valeria,” he said. “Who would have thought home is an even more dangerous place.” His hand returned to the armrest, his index finger tapping lightly.
Ding!
The soft sound echoed in the hall, sharp enough to make Marcus flinch. He wore an ingratiating smile, though his irritation was evident. “Alpha Eric, forgive the spectacle in my home today. I was merely teaching the younger ones some respect.”
Eric’s gaze remained fixed on the coiled whip on the floor as he spoke coldly. “I’d heard the Nightveil still adhered to old customs, but I didn’t expect you to be so brutal to your own daughter.”
The word "daughter" seemed to sting Marcus. He’d never treated me as such—only as a weapon to wield against his enemies. His face twisted, struggling to understand why the infamous, supposedly disabled Alpha would intervene on my behalf.
“Alpha Eric, you misunderstand. My daughter spoke out of turn. Normally, I would never raise a hand against her.”
Then Marcus gestured to a lycan nearby. “You, take Valeria to apply some medicine.”
A lycan maid stepped forward, but I remained still. She hesitated, looking back at Marcus, who waved her off in frustration.
Eric sat unmoving, cold and statuesque, while the others buzzed around him anxiously. “Alpha Marcus, losing one’s temper is understandable. But aiming a whip at her face? It hardly seems like the treatment a cherished daughter would receive.”
His words fell like thunder, cracking the air and sending an ominous silence through the room.
“Alpha Eric, you’re joking, yes?” Marcus stammered, his face paling. “I only meant to keep her from... unfavorable influences. Vampires and fairies, for instance. Just a father’s concern. Besides, this is a family matter.”
Family matter? How convenient.
Then Eric’s voice broke through, deliberate and cutting. “Valeria is now with the Shadowridge. I have the responsibility to care for her.”
“What?”
Everyone froze, and Luna Lydia’s face hardened. She stepped forward. “Alpha Eric, there must be a mistake.”
“What mistake? Is Valeria not your daughter?” Eric continued, his tone sharp. “She came to me, introduced herself as the Nightveil’s second daughter, the one meant for me to marry. If there’s a mistake, are you saying the Nightveil sent a phony to our table?”
“No, of course not!” Luna Lydia went pale.
I turned to her calmly. “Mother,” I said, using the title I had always avoided. “Surely you remember. You always said I was your favorite second daughter, destined to marry into another pack.”
My words left them with no escape. Eric had come to claim the second daughter of the Nightveil pack, and I had already taken that title. Now they would have to honor that promise—or risk being seen as liars before another Alpha.
“Alpha Eric,” Marcus said, his voice strained. “Actually, after a second thought, my third daughter, Bella, would be a better match for you. She was even younger than Valeria and had already shown managing potential at such a young age. I’ll have her brought down at once.”
He gestured to a lycan servant, who rushed up the stairs to fetch Bella.
Thump, thump, thump…
As hurried footsteps echoed, Eric spoke again, slowly and with finality. “I chose Valeria. Fit or not, I will marry her, not some other werewolf.
Buzz…
The clock struck midnight, officially ending the day.
“Alpha Eric, what do you mean by this?” Marcus asked, his face ashen.
Eric turned his head, meeting Marcus’s twitching gaze. His lips pressed into a grim line, his glasses glinting coldly. “I don’t care how many daughters you have. I want Valeria, period.”
“Valeria?”
“If Alpha Marcus does not want me to have Valeria, insist on giving me your third daughter. I would be very disappointed. And I might forget all the past deals and promises that I made with you.” His words were slow and measured like a blade sharpened in the dead of winter, “It would be like nothing had ever happened between us two packs.”
The weight of his words was like a heavy iron hammer, striking the floor bit by bit, first cracking it, then widening and deepening the fissure until everything shattered, plunging everyone into an abyss.
Marcus’s mouth dropped open, Luna Lydia’s face tightened, and the others exchanged uncertain glances. I looked from one face to another before speaking evenly. “Father, mother, Eric and I are in love. Surely you wouldn’t object to our wish to be married?”
Tick, tick, tick…
The clock’s mechanism seemed to stutter, each second grinding louder.
The silence stretched until Eric’s Beta handed him a ring box. “Then consider the engagement settled. Here’s the betrothal gift.”
I took the box, its weight grounding me, my fingers pale from its weight. Eric, the feared Alpha of the Shadowridge Pack, stood as my sole hope for escaping from the Nightveil.
Even if it meant leaping from one hell into another, anywhere was better than here.
- Writer
