Chapter Four – The House of Wolves

I woke to warmth.

Not comfort.

Heat.

Thick. Close. Wrong.

For a moment I didn’t move. My body felt heavy, like I had sunk into something too soft. My mind came back slower than my instincts.

The scent hit me first.

Woodsmoke.

Leather.

Iron.

And wolf.

My eyes snapped open.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—dark wooden beams, carved with markings I didn’t recognize. The air felt dense, as if it carried more breath than one person should need.

I wasn’t in my village.

I sat up too quickly.

Pain lanced through my ribs.

The bond flared faintly in response—duller than before, but there.

Alive.

I was in a large room built from stone and timber. Firelight flickered along the walls. A heavy cloak had been thrown over me. Not gently. Just efficiently.

The Alpha.

The memory hit hard.

The clearing. His eyes. The heat.

Mine.

My jaw tightened.

“No,” I whispered to myself.

I swung my legs off the bed.

The floor was cold.

Grounding.

I forced myself to breathe slowly.

Where was he?

The silence inside the house wasn’t empty.

It was listening.

I took one step toward the door.

The bond pulsed.

Not pain.

Awareness.

Like something shifting closer.

I froze.

I hated that my body reacted before my mind.

I pushed the door open anyway.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit by torches. The house was larger than it had seemed—stone walls reinforced with thick wooden beams, pelts lining the floor, weapons mounted openly.

This wasn’t a home.

It was a stronghold.

Voices murmured somewhere ahead.

Male.

Controlled.

I stepped into the hall.

Every instinct screamed that I was being watched.

Because I was.

A man leaned against the far wall—broad-shouldered, arms crossed. His eyes tracked me calmly.

Not hostile.

Not welcoming.

Measuring.

“You’re awake,” he said.

His voice was steady.

“You’re not him,” I replied.

A flicker of something passed through his expression.

“No.”

Silence stretched.

I straightened my spine.

“Where is he?”

“Busy.”

“With what?”

“Containing the consequences of bringing you here.”

That hit harder than it should have.

“I didn’t ask to be brought.”

“No,” he agreed. “You didn’t.”

His gaze sharpened slightly.

“But you crossed.”

“And he didn’t stop me.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

“He tried.”

The bond pulsed again.

Stronger.

I felt it before I saw him.

Heavy steps echoed from the far end of the corridor.

The air shifted.

The man beside me straightened immediately.

Instinct.

Submission.

The Alpha turned the corner.

He didn’t look weakened.

He looked controlled.

But I saw it now.

The tightness in his shoulders.

The faint pallor beneath his skin.

The effort.

His eyes locked onto me instantly.

Not relief.

Not anger.

Assessment.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he said.

I hated the way my pulse reacted to his voice.

“You shouldn’t have taken me,” I shot back.

The man beside me exhaled slowly.

The Alpha stepped closer.

The bond tightened.

Subtle.

Persistent.

He stopped an arm’s length away.

Close enough that I could feel his heat.

“Did anyone touch you?” he asked.

The question caught me off guard.

“What?”

“In this house,” he clarified. His jaw flexed. “Did anyone lay a hand on you?”

I understood then.

The three wolves.

The clearing.

His rage.

“No,” I answered.

A muscle in his jaw relaxed.

Barely.

“They won’t,” he said.

It wasn’t reassurance.

It was a warning to the walls.

“I don’t belong here,” I said quietly.

“You’re here,” he replied.

The bond flared.

Not violent.

Insistent.

I stepped back.

His eyes darkened.

The air between us shifted dangerously.

“I don’t want this,” I said.

His expression hardened.

“You think I do?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Charged.

“Then let me leave,” I challenged.

The bond reacted instantly.

A sharp twist beneath my ribs.

His shoulders stiffened.

He felt it too.

“Try,” he said.

I didn’t hesitate.

I moved past him.

Two steps.

Three.

The pain struck like a blade through my chest.

I gasped and caught myself against the wall.

At the same time—

He staggered.

Just slightly.

But the man in the hallway saw it.

And so did I.

The Alpha recovered instantly.

But the damage was done.

Understanding burned between us.

“If I walk away,” I said hoarsely, “you weaken.”

His eyes went cold.

“If you force it,” he corrected, “we both break.”

The man in the hallway shifted uneasily.

“This isn’t stable,” he muttered.

“No,” the Alpha agreed.

He looked at me again.

Longer this time.

Not as prey.

Not as property.

As a variable.

“You will stay,” he said finally.

“Until I decide what you are.”

I swallowed.

“And if I don’t cooperate?”

His gaze flickered—dangerous, controlled, almost feral.

“Then the Council decides.”

The word settled like ice in my stomach.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” the man beside us said quietly, “they won’t ask questions first.”

Silence pressed in.

The bond hummed beneath my skin.

The Alpha stepped closer again.

Lowered his voice.

“They are already watching.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“Watching how?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze dropped briefly—to my throat.

Then lifted again.

“They’re waiting to see if I fall.”

The weight of that hit me slowly.

“You think I’m going to make you lose control?”

“I know you already have.”

The bond pulsed harder.

This time not painful.

Not weak.

Intentional.

And for the first time since I woke—

I realized something terrifying.

The bond wasn’t only reacting to him.

It was reacting to me.