Chapter 2 (Seraphina's POV)
Chapter 2
(Seraphina's POV)
"I know," I said.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You know, and you still came?"
"Because I won't die."
When the words left my mouth, I wasn't sure if I was saying them for him or for myself.
He didn't laugh. He wasn't moved, either.
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen." He repeated it, like he was chewing on the number. "Do you know what Luna means? It's not a pretty title. It's the lifeline of the entire Pack. In war, you stand at the front. In decisions, you bear the consequences. Your wolf soul just awakened. You think you can handle that?"
Every word landed on me like a stone.
"I don't understand the weight of being Luna," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "But I know the weight of being a Mate. You agreed to this marriage because you felt it—that I'm your Mate. So why push me away now that I'm here?"
His fingers twitched.
Barely visible.
Then he turned and walked back to the window.
"Margaret," he said.
Footsteps sounded immediately outside the door. A woman who looked to be in her fifties pushed it open, didn't glance at me, and bowed to him respectfully.
"Put her in the east wing," he said.
She looked up, stunned. "Alpha, the east wing is your—"
"I know."
It took me three seconds to understand what had just happened.
The east wing was where the master bedroom was.
Ember let out a smug little huff inside me.
Margaret led me down the corridor.
At the turn of the staircase, two men in black uniforms leaned against the wall, talking in low voices.
"...Five days until the full moon."
"Last time the Alpha nearly tore the training grounds apart. This time—"
They spotted Margaret and shut up instantly, straightening.
I quietly filed those two sentences away.
The east wing room was at the end of the hall. Margaret pushed the door open and stepped aside to let me in.
The room was huge. Three times the size of my bedroom at the Wren house. Dark wood furniture, cold gray sheets, deep blue curtains made of sheer fabric that hung long and swayed gently in the evening breeze.
"This is your room, Miss Wren," she said. "Toiletries are in the bathroom. Clothes will be delivered tomorrow. If you need anything, press the call button by the bed."
"Thank you." I nodded.
"Please don't wander after nine p.m." Her tone was like she was reading from a rulebook. "The Alpha doesn't like to be disturbed."
"I won't disturb him."
She looked at me, something flashing in her eyes—disgust, maybe, or satisfaction at someone else's misfortune.
"I hope you last longer than the others, Miss Wren. After all, none of the previous ones made it past a month."
The door closed.
Ember swore under her breath.
I didn't. I just felt suddenly, bone-deep tired.
From the basement of my past life to this grand bedroom—separated by one death and one rebirth—but the feeling of being treated like prey by everyone around me was exactly the same.
I couldn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the silver knife. Saw Grace's gentle smile. Saw Damien's hand on her waist.
The flames of revenge burned through me, making it hard to breathe.
...No, wait. This suffocation wasn't emotional.
"Ember?"
"Can't breathe—" Her voice was hoarse, like someone had her by the throat. "The window... something's..."
I sat up at once.
Something was wrong.
I'd just awakened. My wolf soul should be at its most active right now.
The room was dark. There should have been moonlight—tonight was close to the full moon—but not a single ray reached inside.
I got out of bed and went to the window, pulling back the curtain.
On the inside of the curtain, pressed flat against the glass, was a layer of fine mesh. At first glance it looked decorative, but the instant I leaned close, my skin began to sting.
Damn it. Silver thread.
The entire window was covered with a screen woven from silver wire.
Moonlight was completely blocked.
Ember let out a pained growl. "That old woman—"
"I know."
Silver mesh wouldn't bother most wolves. They'd just think the room was a bit dim.
But a newly awakened young wolf, cut off from moonlight by silver mesh—her wolf soul would suffocate, weaken, maybe even fall dormant.
Those women before me—the one who went mad, the one who died—had they gone through this on their first night in this house too?
My hands were shaking.
Complain on the first night? Run to the Alpha's door and say "your housekeeper is bullying me"? In everyone's eyes, I'd just be a whiny little girl who wouldn't last a month.
I had to handle this myself.
"Bear with me," I told Ember.
She snarled, but didn't argue.
I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wrapped my right hand, and started prying at the edge of the mesh.
No use—the heat of the silver burned through the towel into my palm, pain shooting all the way to my elbow.
I gritted my teeth and pulled harder.
The mesh was glued tight. The edges were fixed to the window frame with some kind of special adhesive; tearing it made a faint ripping sound.
My fingers started to blister. The blisters burst, blood soaking into the towel.
Ember's whimpers turned into a constant, strangled scream.
BANG!
The sound made me nearly fall off the windowsill.
A large hand with sharp knuckles locked around my waist.
I looked up in terror—and saw Caelan's tight-pressed lips. His hair was windblown. He carried the chill of the night air and a faint trace of blood—like he'd just rushed back from somewhere.
Had he come back for me?
He set me steady and stared at my hands. His pupils contracted sharply—they were still oozing blood, the edges of the silver burns already turning black.
"What are you doing?"
His voice was low, holding something back.
"Silver mesh," I said, throat raw. "It was blocking the moonlight. My wolf was about to give out."
"Why didn't you call someone?"
"Complaining on the first night—" I tried to smile but couldn't manage it. "Makes me look high-maintenance."
He didn't ask again. He just reached out, grabbed the silver mesh barehanded, and ripped it down.
The silver hissed the instant it touched his skin, but only for a second. Two red lines burned across his palm, then faded before my eyes.
He tossed the whole sheet to the floor like a rag.
Moonlight flooded the room.
Ember let out a long, trembling sigh.
The pressure in my chest dissolved. I looked up at him, grateful.
"Thank you. I'm fine now. You should... get some rest."
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked to the door and pressed the intercom in the hallway.
"Margaret. Bring all the servants to the guest room. Now."
I froze.
In less than five minutes, orderly footsteps approached.
Margaret stood at the front, dozens of maids behind her. Half past two in the morning—they'd all been dragged from their beds, but not one looked sleepy. Every face was frightened.
"Explain," he said.
Not loud, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees.
Margaret lowered her head. "Alpha, that was a spare screen from before. The storage room must have mixed it up—"
"A spare screen that was glued to the window?" He cut her off. "Glued so tight it had to be torn off?"
Margaret's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Listen carefully." His voice echoed through the silent room. "Seraphina Wren is my guest. If anything appears in her room that shouldn't be there—silver, wolfsbane, or anything else—I will hold everyone present responsible."
His dominance released in a wave.
Not aimed at me. At them.
The Omega maids dropped to their knees. Margaret's face went white, fingers clutching her skirt.
"Now," he said. "Get me the medical kit."
The kit arrived quickly. He waved everyone out, shut the door, then brought the box to me.
"Hand."
I held it out.
He knelt on one knee on the carpet, opened the kit, and took out antiseptic cotton and gauze. His movements were practiced, like he'd done this countless times.
The cotton touched the wound and I hissed.
"Deal with it," he said, not looking up.
He wrapped the bandage carefully, brow slightly furrowed, like he was completing some important task.
Moonlight fell on the top of his bowed head. Black hair. It looked soft.
I suddenly wanted to touch it.
Ember groaned weakly. "Save your energy, please..."
When he finished, he held my wrist and turned my hand over to check.
"It'll heal by morning," he said. "Don't get it wet."
"Okay."
He stood, closed the kit, and walked to the door.
His hand on the doorknob, he paused.
"If anything like this happens again—" He didn't turn around. "Come to me directly."
The door closed softly.
I sat in the moonlight, staring at my bandaged hand, for a long time.
Then I lay back down, and this time, I finally fell asleep.
I woke the next morning to noise from downstairs.
Voices, footsteps, and Margaret's deliberately raised announcement, pitched with that sharp edge:
"Miss Wren, you have a visitor. A Miss Grace Wren claims to be your sister and insists on seeing you."
I bolted upright.
What was she doing here?
In my past life she and Damien had destroyed me together. This time I hadn't followed the script and run from the marriage—her plan had fallen through. So she'd come in person?
But how had she gotten clearance to enter Ashworth territory?
Was Caelan working with her?
"Idiot!" Ember snapped. "He died saving us in our last life. How could he possibly be working with her!"
Outside the door, Margaret was still pressing.
I called out: "Just a moment! I'll be right down!"
Whatever she was planning, she wasn't going to hurt me again.
