14

Nicholas paused, his hand hovering over the heavy oak doorframe as if weighing his response. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, carrying a mix of dark amusement and mild irony.

"Hmm, now that is a surprisingly weird question," Nicholas muttered, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded loosely over his chest. His posture was relaxed, yet his eyes remained sharp as he watched the two of me and Bakito. "Lucien may be a lot of terrible things. He’s cruel, he’s ruthless, and he chain-smokes like he's trying to burn down his own lungs. But I really don't think he’s interested in laying a finger on a sixteen-year-old girl. So, for now? You’re probably safe. I guess."

Bakito’s brow furrowed, her jaw tightening as a heavy, serious shadow fell over her face. She didn't look relieved. If anything, the uncertainty seemed to press down on her chest, making her breathing shallow.

"But what if he changes his mind one day?" Bakito asked, her voice dropping to a tense whisper that barely cut through the silence of the corridor. "What if he just... feels like it?"

Nicholas’s relaxed stance vanished, replaced by a slight, grim tilt of his head. He let out a low sigh, his expression darkening as the cold reality of the situation settled over us.

"Well... if I'm being completely honest with you, he can if he wants to," Nicholas admitted softly, his voice devoid of any comforting sweetness. He gestured vaguely toward the grand hallway behind us, emphasizing the boundaries of our captivity. "He holds full rights over you. Your father signed you away to settle a debt he couldn't pay. That means Lucien owns you—body, mind, and soul. He has the power to do whatever he pleases here. So if you want to make your life easier, your best bet is to constantly stay on his good side."

While they spoke, my eyes wandered past Nicholas, soaking in the details of the master suite. A strange prickle of confusion hit me. The room didn't match the man at all. It was far too soft, far too bright. The pristine white walls, the delicate light pouring through the grand windows, and the elegant decor felt completely wrong for Alpha Lucien. A man with such a dark, twisted, and sinister reputation had no business living surrounded by such pure, glowing beauty. It felt like a mask, or perhaps a cage of his own making.

I stole a quick glance side-to-side, watching Bakito squeeze her hands together nervously. Despite the danger surrounding us, a warm, protective feeling bloomed in my chest. I had always wished for a younger sister—someone to care for, someone to keep safe. Looking at Bakito's trembling shoulders, I knew right then that I wanted to treat her like family. I made a silent promise to guard her in whatever little ways I could manage in this brutal house.

Nicholas shifted his weight, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his thigh to break the heavy silence. A small, polite smile touched the corners of his mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, that’s about as much as I can tell you for now," Nicholas announced, motioning for us to follow him down the hall. "Maybe I can show you both around a bit more when I actually have free time. Or, honestly, you’ll just end up discovering the rest of the pack grounds on your own soon enough. But believe me when I say this: despite how tough things seem right now, this is still a good place. It's a safe place for both of you."

He turned on his heel, gesturing toward the long carpeted corridor stretching ahead of us.

"Come on, let me take you to your quarters first. After that, I have to head back to my duties," he added over his shoulder.

We fell into step right behind him, our footsteps muffled by the thick runners along the floor. We took a short, quiet walk down a secondary hallway, away from the grand main wing, until Nicholas finally stopped outside a plain wooden door. He turned the handle and pushed it wide open.

We stepped inside, looking around. The room was reasonably spacious, though it wasn't even half the size of Alpha Lucien’s massive suite. There were no elaborate paintings, no fancy decorations, and no luxurious furnishings to marvel at. It was simply a plain, functional space. The walls were painted a neutral, faded shade, lined with basic wooden cupboards for storage. It contained exact essentials needed to survive—nothing more, nothing less, and certainly nothing special.

Four large, sturdy beds were lined up neatly along the far wall, each dressed in crisp, thick blankets and plump pillows. The beds were positioned with a small gap of space between them—not too far apart, but organized with strict precision.

Nicholas stepped back into the doorway, sweeping his arm outward to present the room to us.

"This will be your room," he declared.