Chapter 5: Outcast 2

Elena

Morning light pierced through a narrow stone window, slicing across my face like a blade. I groaned, pulling a bruised arm up to shield my eyes, my breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs of frustration as consciousness dragged me back from the dark void.

I sat up abruptly—and froze.

The room was silent, crisp, and unnervingly precise. The mattress beneath me was firm and narrow; the stone walls rose in clean, gray lines that pressed inward, giving the space a controlled, clinical feeling. An unadorned wardrobe stood pushed tightly against the corner, and a single wooden chair sat perfectly centered against the far wall.

There was no scent of mold or rot here. It smelled of cedarwood, ozone, and fresh slate.

Memories flooded my mind in sudden, brutal flashes—the four monstrous wolves in the moonlight, the crunch of my spine against the tree, iron chains, and four dark brothers declaring me their mate and personal maid.

I am in the stronghold of the Quadruplet Alphas.

Panic rising in my throat, I lowered my hands to inspect my body, fully expecting to feel crushed ribs, broken limbs, or shattered vertebrae. I ran my fingers over my shoulders, my spine, and my ribs, tracing every inch of my skin.

Nothing. My skin was completely smooth, whole, and unblemished.

"You didn't let me break," I whispered into the quiet room.

Deep within the core of my mind, Vernia stirred weakly. She curled into a tight ball, sending a soft, sleepy hum through our link before drifting back into slumber. Her power was depleted from repairing my shattered body overnight, but she was alive.

A heavy, deliberate knock echoed on the wooden door.

My entire body went rigid.

"Rogue 456."

The voice was deep, level, and entirely devoid of emotion. A number. I had gone from Beta's daughter to rogue, and now to a numerical tag in an enemy keep.

"Yes?" My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.

"I am Beta Torin of the Pearl Bridge Pack," the man announced through the wood. "You are being summoned. The Alphas require your presence."

My stomach twisted into a hard knot. "I'll... I'll be out in a moment."

I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the wardrobe, pulling open the heavy door. Inside hung a row of identical, practical woolen dresses in dark charcoal grey—no embroidery, no adornments.

"Personal maid," I muttered bitterly, pulling a grey dress over my head and smoothing the coarse fabric with trembling hands.

When I stepped into the hallway, a broad-shouldered man with stern features and a warrior's stance was standing guard. Beta Torin gave me a brief, calculating look before turning on his heel without a word.

I followed closely behind him.

The halls of Pearl Bridge Keep were gargantuan, cut from dark, polished mountain granite. Armed guards and servants passed us in the corridors, bowing respectfully to Torin before their eyes slid over to me with open malice and hushed whispers.

"Is that the rogue from the border?"

"Why hasn't she been thrown in the dungeons?"

I pressed my lips together and kept my head high, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

Torin halted before a set of massive double doors guarded by two heavily armored wolves. "Wait here," he instructed, before knocking once and stepping aside as the doors swung open.

I stepped over the threshold into the expansive suite, taking two cautious paces before coming to a dead stop.

The room was empty of the four Alphas, but lounging languidly across the massive, furs-covered bed was a woman.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, with cascading dark hair and sharp, almond-shaped eyes that held an effortless, cruel authority. Her silk gown dripped over the edge of the mattress like liquid silver.

Slowly, her eyes dragged up my grey maid's dress, her lips curling into a disdainful sneer.

"So," her voice echoed softly across the vaulted chamber, laced with smooth poison. "You are the stray my brothers dragged in from the dirt."

Brothers.

The pieces clicked into place immediately. Anabel. The pampered, lethal sister of the Quadruplet Alphas. The princess of the Pearl Bridge territory whom no one dared cross.

Anabel rose from the bed with fluid, predatory grace, lifting two slender fingers to cover her nose as she closed the distance between us.

"Reeking of filth," she purred contemptuously.

I dug my nails into my palms, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I was summoned here by the Beta."

Anabel began to circle me slowly, the soft click of her heels ringing against the polished floorboards like a ticking clock. "You stand surprisingly straight for a banished hound. Rogues usually drop to their knees and beg."

"I am not—"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" Anabel snapped, stopping inches from my face.

Her scent—heavy jasmine and copper—flooded my senses. Her gaze sliced into mine with cold, calculating precision.

"My brothers are ruthless, but they are foolishly impulsive at times," she murmured, crossing her arms as she turned back toward the hearth. "They claimed you are to be their personal maid. They never let anyone close to them—not high-ranking she-wolves, not lifelong servants, and certainly not Crest filth."

She spun back to face me, her eyes glinting with a terrifying, promises-of-blood intensity.

"Listen to me carefully, Rogue," Anabel whispered, stepping closer until her sharp nails pressed lightly against the skin of my collarbone. "You breathe our air by my family's grace alone. If you have a single scheme in that pretty head of yours, or if you attempt to manipulate my brothers in any way... I will personally tear you apart piece by piece."

I held her glare, refusing to look away even as my knees trembled beneath my gown.

Before Anabel could say another word, the heavy wooden doors crashed open—