Four: Shadows In the Packhouse

Mara’s POV

The servant corridors were narrower than I expected, walls pressing in like they wanted to swallow me whole. My boots echoed softly on the stone floor, the sound unfamiliar yet perfectly traceable for anyone listening.

I kept my shoulders straight, my head high, even as the rope bindings rubbed raw against my wrists. Every instinct screamed caution, every nerve on edge.

The packhouse smelled of dominance: wolf musk thick in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of iron and smoke from the hearths below.

The scent of power clung to every stone, every shadow, reminding me who ruled here. Every so often, a servant paused, eyes darting toward me, whispers curling behind their words. “Rogue.” “The Alpha’s fooling himself.” “She won’t last the week.” I ignored them. Let them watch. Let them underestimate me. That’s how I survived.

A door opened to a small room, bare, narrow, but at least a roof and a bed. The guards shoved me inside and gave me a curt nod before leaving. Alone, I allowed myself a long, measured exhale.

My wolf pressed against my spine, impatient, restless. We’re trapped, I whispered silently, willing her to calm. Patience. She whined, sharp and low, but I held my mind firm. Patience was my weapon, more than any dagger or claw.

I leaned back against the wall, eyes scanning the room. Small cracks in the stone, the faint draft from the window high above, every detail, every weakness I could exploit. Tonight, I couldn’t strike, couldn’t shift, couldn’t act. But I could observe, learn, and survive. That had been my life long before Bloodfang, and it would serve me now.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. My ears pricked. Not guards, too light. A shadow moved outside the door, pausing. My pulse hitched, and my wolf snarled softly, nudging me forward.

The door creaked open, and I didn’t flinch. I had to be ready, but not show fear. A young servant, barely more than a boy, stepped inside with a tray of food.

“Eat,” he whispered. “Quickly, or they’ll notice.”

I didn’t respond, letting him leave first. My eyes followed him as he disappeared down the corridor, and I let my wolf sniff the air. He wasn’t a threat. But every interaction here had to be measured, every movement calculated. I had one chance to stay alive and gather what I needed.

The first night was quiet. Too quiet. I stayed by the window, moonlight spilling across my face, casting long shadows that danced across the floor.

My wolf prowled under my skin, twitching at every scent, every distant growl or whisper. She wanted Ronald. I wanted him dead. That much hadn’t changed, though the bond coiled between us, invisible and insistent, tugging at my chest with every heartbeat. I can’t let it control me, I warned her. Not yet.

Hours later, a soft knock at the door startled me. My dagger would have been in hand if they hadn’t taken it. Instead, I rose slowly, careful not to betray my readiness.

The door opened, revealing a woman, tall, thin, with the kind of cruel beauty only years of scheming could sharpen. Her eyes glimmered in the torchlight, appraising me like I was a puzzle she intended to solve.

“You’re new,” she said, voice smooth, almost velvety. “The Alpha’s… interesting choice. To keep a rogue alive, and in his house.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m Seraphine. You’ll find obedience is safer than pride in these walls.”

I inclined my head slightly, hiding my distaste. Pride had gotten me this far, but it hadn’t blinded me to danger. Observation first, action later. “Noted,” I said softly, letting my words carry authority without showing weakness. Her smile faltered just slightly, the first crack in her mask of control.

“Follow me. I’ll show you your duties,” she said, sweeping past me without waiting. I trailed silently, making mental notes of every corridor, every servant’s post, every shadow that might conceal a weapon or an informant. The walls whispered secrets if you listened.

My first task was simple enough: prepare the Alpha’s chambers. His scent was heavy in the air, sharp with dominance, layered with something darker, fear, control, and desire all entwined in the same invisible thread. My wolf stirred violently, growling softly under my ribs. Focus, I warned, pressing a hand to my chest.

I cleaned, arranged, and prepared. Every movement was deliberate. Every glance toward the doorway, I counted seconds.

Every flicker of torchlight was another piece of the puzzle. Ronald could appear at any moment, and I had to be ready, for myself and for the truth I sought.

Hours later, he did appear. I wasn’t startled, though my wolf surged with sudden feral need. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me silently. The firelight glinted in his golden eyes, sharp and assessing.

“You move like a wolf,” he said softly, voice low but carrying across the room. “Silent, careful… lethal if need be.”

I met his gaze, holding steady. “You should know by now, I can’t be trusted,” I said evenly. No fear or hesitation. My wolf hummed beneath my skin, aching to respond to him in ways I refused.

He stepped inside, moving silently, like a shadow that had learned the room as intimately as I had. He didn’t touch me, and didn't speak again immediately. He simply watched, the weight of his presence folding around me, suffocating yet magnetic.

My wolf whimpered softly in my skull, straining toward him. Quiet, I commanded.

Finally, he spoke. “You’ll follow my rules here. Break them, and your life ends. That’s all you need to know for now.” His words were calm, but the predatory undertone made every nerve in my body shiver.

“Yes,” I replied, smooth and controlled. Obedience didn’t mean surrender. It meant survival.

He paused, eyes flicking to the window. “The Blood Moon approaches,” he said. My pulse tightened. That was the first explicit mention. “Pack politics will shift. Loyalties will fracture. Those who think they are safe won’t be.”

I felt the tension coil tighter, a prelude to danger. Information first, action later, I reminded myself. Every whisper in this house could be a weapon or a trap. Every glance toward the Alpha could betray my true intentions and yet, even as I plotted, the bond twisted, gnawing at my control, reminding me that I was not entirely alone, or entirely safe.

He turned to leave. “Sleep lightly. Watch everything. I will not be gentle with mistakes.”

I nodded, watching him go. Once the door clicked shut, my wolf exhaled in frustration, coiling tight around my bones. I pressed a palm to my face, grounding myself.

This was no longer a hunt; this was survival in enemy territory. Observation, patience, and stealth would be my weapons and when the right moment came, my dagger, my vengeance would follow.

The night stretched long and thick. Every sound outside, every shift of shadows, every whisper of a passing servant, felt like a threat, a clue, or a trap. I listened, counted, memorized, and planned.

By the time dawn crept through the high windows, my mind had mapped every corridor I could access, every weak point, every potential ally or enemy hidden among the pack.

And then I heard it, a soft hiss, almost a whisper, carried on the draft. My wolf stiffened, ears flattened, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. The voice wasn’t human. Not fully. It carried malice and promise in the same syllable, something ancient and dangerous.

I froze, straining to hear. The corridor outside remained empty… or so it seemed.

A chill coiled through me. I wasn’t alone.

And something or someone was waiting for me.