Bound in Silver

The hospital room was quiet, its sterile calm a fragile barrier between Ryleigh and the unknown life waiting outside. For two days, she'd been here—under observation, under care—but more importantly, out of Margaret’s reach.

Dr. Derek hadn’t been overly warm, but there was a steady calm to him that made her feel less like a prisoner and more like… a person. He didn’t press her with questions. He treated her physical injuries with a cool professionalism, and though their conversations were short, his voice never held judgment or superiority.

In this place, she hadn’t had to fight. She hadn’t had to flinch every time a door opened.

But nothing safe lasted long.

That morning, she sensed the change before it happened. The nurse’s voice was tighter. The air around her stilled. Then the knock came. Sharp. Measured.

Dr. Derek entered first, clipboard in hand, but his jaw was tight. “You’re being discharged.”

Behind him stood a tall man in black. Rigid, silent, and unmistakably part of Margaret’s security detail.

Ryleigh’s stomach twisted. “Already?”

Derek gave a tight nod. “Orders came through last night. You’ve been cleared.”

She stood slowly, ignoring the tremble in her fingers. There was nothing to pack—just her folded shirt and pants she received when she had showered. She had been given a new pair in the hospital.

Dr. Derek met her eyes. “You’ve healed well, physically. Just… remember to keep your head down. And stay alert.”

There wasn’t warmth in his voice, not exactly, but there was something like concern. Ryleigh nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

The guard turned without a word and began walking. Ryleigh followed, heart pounding. As the automatic doors opened to the outside world, she caught one last glance at Dr. Derek.

And then the doors shut behind her.

---

The Pack House was exactly as she remembered it: massive, cold, and imposing. The wrought iron gate closed behind the black SUV with a quiet finality that sent a chill through her.

Margaret stood waiting in the entry hall, dressed in a sleek gray dress, her gray hair pulled into a severe bun. Her expression didn’t change as Ryleigh stepped inside, escorted by the guard.

“Dismissed,” Margaret said without looking at the man. He gave a sharp nod and disappeared down the hall.

Ryleigh stood frozen.

Margaret’s eyes swept over her, calculating and sharp. “You’ve been out of sight long enough.”

She turned and began walking, expecting Ryleigh to follow. Her heels clicked crisply against the stone floor, echoing in the silence of the massive house.

“You will now begin your duties,” Margaret said. “You’ll assist the other servants with the daily upkeep of the Pack House—cleaning, laundry, food prep, and other menial tasks as assigned. You will not question your assignments. You will not complain. You will be useful.”

They turned down a side corridor, narrower and plainer. Here, the polish gave way to practicality—bare walls, worn rugs, and the distant clatter of dishes and footsteps.

Margaret stopped outside a room and opened the door. It was small—just a narrow bed, a wooden chest, and a sink in the corner. A barred window let in a shaft of gray light.

“This is your room,” she said. “You will keep it tidy. You will sleep when allowed. And you will be ready before sunrise each day.”

Ryleigh barely had time to process the cold sparseness before Margaret turned again and led her farther down the hallway. They entered another room—a staff lounge, dimly lit, with a few mismatched chairs and lockers against the wall.

A young woman stood near the lockers, arms crossed, watching them with a bored expression. Her long blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, and her blue eyes swept over Ryleigh like a wolf sizing up a rival.

“This is Natalia,” Margaret said. “She’ll be your supervisor. She’ll train you in the expectations of this house.”

Natalia gave a small nod, offering no smile.

“She’s been in this house for five years,” Margaret continued. “She knows what happens to those who disobey.”

Ryleigh stayed silent.

Margaret pulled something from her coat pocket and held it out—a black velvet box.

“Your rank marker,” she said, opening it.

Inside was a delicate silver chain with a crescent pendant. Thin, elegant, and coolly beautiful. But Ryleigh could feel the weight of it before it even touched her skin.

“You’ll wear this at all times,” Margaret said. “It marks you as servant class within the pack. It grants you protection—but also surveillance. Lose it or take it off, and you’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

She stepped forward and fastened it around Ryleigh’s neck. The silver was cool, but it burned with the unspoken threat it carried.

Margaret leaned in slightly, voice dropping low.

“Let me be clear: escape is not an option. I have eyes and ears throughout the territory. If you try to run, you will be caught. And the consequences will be… unpleasant.”

Her tone made Ryleigh’s blood run cold.

“You’ve been given shelter, protection, and a purpose. Do not throw it away.”

With that, she turned to Natalia. “She’s yours now.”

Then she swept from the room, heels clicking down the corridor.

Natalia sighed and looked Ryleigh over. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

She motioned for her to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you the rotation.”

As Ryleigh trailed her down the hall, fingers brushing the cold pendant at her throat, she felt the weight of her new life settling in. The clinic had been a brief breath of air. But that air was gone now.

Now, she belonged to the Pack House.

And escape would come at a cost she wasn’t sure she could afford.

Once Margaret's footsteps faded, Natalia's shoulders dropped slightly, the icy exterior melting just enough to reveal something more human beneath.

"She always makes an exit like that," Natalia muttered, then glanced at Ryleigh. “You’re lucky. Some girls get thrown straight into the fire.”

Ryleigh didn’t feel lucky. She reached up, touching the silver pendant at her throat.

Natalia noticed. “Keep that on. Always.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Natalia spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Listen, I need to warn you. The Alpha… he’s not kind. Especially not to someone who looks like you.”

Ryleigh blinked. “What do you mean?”

Natalia gave her a look. “Caramel hair, hazel eyes, soft figure—you’re his type. And his Beta and his close friends? They’re no better. Men like that don’t ask. They take. Especially from girls like us.”

Ryleigh’s stomach twisted.

“You keep your head down, and don’t go anywhere alone, especially at night,” Natalia said. Her voice had lost all sarcasm. “Don’t let them see you as a challenge. Or worse, as a toy.”

Ryleigh nodded slowly, her pulse thudding in her ears.

“Good,” Natalia said. “Now come on. Let’s get you through your first day alive.”