Chapter 3 (Seraphina's POV)

Chapter 3

(Seraphina's POV)

Grace was being held at the front gate by two stone-faced warriors.

She wore a white dress, and her hair—I nearly laughed—she'd dyed her flaxen hair gold overnight. The chemical smell of cheap dye carried all the way up to the second floor, sharp and harsh.

The moment she saw me come out, she burst into tears.

"Sera!" Her voice trembled, hands reaching past the warriors' arms toward me. "Thank God you're okay! I didn't sleep all night, I was so worried—tell these brutes to let go of me!"

I stopped at the top of the steps. Didn't go any closer.

"Can I help you?"

Her hand froze in midair.

Tears still clung to her lashes, but I caught her pupils contract—quick, calculating, reading my reaction.

I watched her calmly, like watching a bad play.

She couldn't keep crying—I hadn't rushed down to hug her like before, hadn't even frowned, showed zero willingness to play along.

Her expression shifted.

The corners of her mouth slowly curved up. Tear tracks still wet, but a smile was already creeping into her eyes. That sweet, thorny smile I'd seen a thousand times in my past life.

"Then I'll just say it." She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, graceful as ever. "I'm sorry, little sister—Damien and I are together."

She paused for a second, watching for my reaction.

"He wanted to come tell you himself, but he was afraid you'd be upset. After all, you liked him for so long. Neither of us wanted to hurt you."

She tilted her head, gold hair sliding over her shoulder.

"Then again, now that you're living here... you probably don't have time to be heartbroken, right?" Her gaze swept over the mansion walls, her tone suddenly airy. "I hear the Ashworth Alpha has a terrible temper. Goes mad during the full moon. All alone here... be careful."

Her malice was so obvious it was almost funny.

She wanted me to break down. Scream. Ideally beg with red-rimmed eyes: "Why did you abandon me?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

A calm, genuine laugh.

"Congratulations," I said. "I hope you two are happy."

Grace's eyes went wide—not with hurt. With confusion. The blank shock of a script gone off the rails.

I tilted my head at her. "You thought I'd still cry a single tear over Damien?"

I already knew what they were.

I knew how happy Grace had been when she carved up my face. I knew she'd always been jealous of me. And I knew she and Damien had been together all along.

I was just waiting. Waiting for the right moment to tear them both apart.

Grace opened her mouth to say something else.

Footsteps on the stairs.

We both looked up.

Caelan stood there, backlit, only his godlike silhouette visible.

Grace switched expressions instantly—posture shifting from "devoted sister" to "harmless visitor" at a speed I had to admire. She lowered her head slightly, baring the side of her neck—the submissive gesture toward a high-ranking wolf.

He didn't look at her.

"Seraphina." He called my name. "Come eat breakfast."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Coming," I said, and headed up the stairs, steps light.

Ember was cackling inside me. "I can hear Grace grinding her teeth! Crunch crunch crunch—"

I held back a laugh.

At the top of the stairs, he was standing right at the landing. Just as I reached him—

"Alpha Ashworth!"

Grace screamed.

"If I were you—I'd check her neck for kiss marks from other men first!"

Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to my neck.

I instinctively clapped a hand over the side of my throat, heart rate spiking.

Damn it. I couldn't see my own neck.

In my past life, I'd liked Damien, and he never turned away my closeness—forehead kisses, an arm around my shoulders, his lips occasionally brushing my ear. I'd thought those were the little sweetnesses of love.

Now those memories made me sick.

But surely—he hadn't actually left marks?

"Don't panic." Ember's voice was steady. "There's nothing. Your skin is clean. That waste of space never touched your neck."

I relaxed a fraction, but kept my hand where it was.

Then I realized—he wasn't looking at my neck at all.

Caelan stood beside me, his gaze passing over me entirely, landing on Grace below.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Not loud, but the entire hall went silent.

Then he frowned—barely, as if he'd caught a whiff of something unpleasant.

"Her hair. It reeks."

I almost burst out laughing.

Grace's face went white for an instant, but she recovered fast—always so fast. She lowered her head, bared her neck, switched to that soft, harmless voice.

"Alpha Ashworth, I'm Grace Wren, Seraphina's sister. I—"

Caelan waved a hand, bored. "Get her out. Wolves who enter Ashworth territory without permission are not welcome. Didn't your father teach you manners?"

So she'd snuck in.

Two warriors seized Grace at once. She struggled wildly, the gentle mask finally shattering, shrieking at me:

"Sera! You won't help your own sister? You'll regret this! He'll tear you apart—"

The iron gate slammed shut.

I took a deep breath, turned, and caught up to his stride. I couldn't help myself:

"Um, don't let her ruin your mood. She's... she's not right in the head!"

He might have laughed—just a breath of sound—but said nothing.

At the breakfast table, he sat at the far end.

Coffee, documents, the same black shirt as last night. He didn't mention Grace, didn't mention kiss marks, didn't mention anything that had just happened.

As if that woman had never existed.

I ate with my head down. Not much appetite, but I forced it all down.

After my last bite of toast, he closed his folder.

"Come with me."

The study.

He sat behind the desk. I stood in front of it.

I thought he was going to ask about Damien. My brain was already scrambling for words—how to explain there was nothing between us, how to clear up Grace's insinuation.

"The full moon is the day after tomorrow," he said. "I'll have Kieran take you to the safe house."

I went blank.

"...What?"

"The safe house is in the northern mountains, forty kilometers from the main house. You stay three days. When the full moon passes, I'll have you brought back."

"Why?"

He looked at me but didn't answer right away.

"Why send me away?" My voice was getting tight. "Is it because of what Grace said? Because of Damien? There's nothing between us—"

"It has nothing to do with that boy."

"Then why?" I stepped forward. "You don't trust me? Or I'm just in the way?"

"I lose all control on the full moon," he said.

"The version of me that exists then doesn't recognize anyone. Fenris—my wolf—takes over completely, and he has no reason during the full moon. Sending you to the safe house is to protect you."

My mouth hung open. Every word I'd prepared jammed in my throat.

So that was why.

Those women—the dead one, the mad one, the missing one—it wasn't all outside forces. The full-moon rampage itself was a test. An ordinary wolf couldn't survive a feral Alpha.

"I'm not leaving," I said.

"This isn't a discussion."

"I know you won't hurt me."

Something shifted in his eyes. Not anger—weariness. Like he'd heard those exact words too many times.

"The last woman who said that," he said, "had three ribs broken by me on a full-moon night."

My fingers curled involuntarily.

But I still said: "I'm not leaving."

I needed him to trust me.

I needed him to see me as someone who could stand beside him, not a fragile thing to be hidden away.

Only then would he help me. Only by staying at his side could I get the power to take revenge on Grace and Damien.

"A Mate's presence naturally calms the full-moon frenzy," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "That's common knowledge. I'm your Mate. This is my duty."

"Duty?"

He rose sharply and walked right up to me.

I forced myself not to step back, tilting my head to meet his eyes.

Blue-gray eyes bore down from above, so close I could see the ring of ice blue at the edge of his iris.

"Duty is not a child shouldering everything." Each word landed heavy. "If you insist on staying, I'll have your room locked from the outside. On the full-moon night, you go nowhere."

"I'm not a child!" I shot back.

"You just turned eighteen. You're still a college freshman." He was just as unyielding, pointing at the door. "Go back to your room, or I'll have you sent back to the Wren house right now."

That last line wasn't a suggestion. It was a command.

An Alpha's command.

Ember whimpered inside my chest, legs going weak, instinct pulling her to submit.

I knew pushing further would turn into a fight. I bit down hard, turned, and walked out.

The instant the door closed behind me, my knees buckled. I grabbed the wall to keep from falling.

"Bastard," Ember cursed.

I didn't go anywhere for the rest of the day. I sat in my room, staring out the window, watching the sun sink inch by inch.

At dusk, the moon rose. Not quite full yet, but close—just a small sliver missing from the edge.

Night deepened.

The whole house was unnaturally quiet. No footsteps, no voices. Even the insects seemed muted, like something was pressing down on every sound.

Clang.

The sound came from the third floor.

Chains.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Rhythmic, heavy, metal striking metal. Like some large animal pacing back and forth in a confined space, each step dragging the chains along.

He'd chained himself up.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening.

One clang. Another. Another.

Ember curled deep in my mind, ears pricked, tail wrapped tight around herself.

The chain sounds went on for a long time. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes pausing for a few seconds—then starting again, heavier, more urgent.

I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head.

No use. The sound cut through two floors, one blanket, and the hands I pressed over my ears.

The moon climbed higher.

The chains went suddenly silent.

Three seconds of quiet.

Then a roar exploded—low, strangled, wrenched from the deepest part of a chest. My pillow shook.

The whole building trembled.

Ember leaped up, spinning frantically inside my mind.

"His wolf's lost control!" Her voice was high and sharp. "Fenris is looking for us!"