W-what are you doing here?

Clara's POV

The moonlight filtered through the thin lace curtains like ghostly fingers, casting erratic silver patterns across the worn floorboards of the bedroom. I huddled on the edge of the massive four-poster bed, knees drawn tightly to my chest, arms wrapped around them as if they could shield me from the suffocating quiet of the house. The air was thick with the scent of pine from the surrounding woods and the faint, lingering musk of Taehyung—his presence a constant ghost even when he was gone. He'd left hours ago for a pack meeting, his parting words a curt command: "Stay put, Clara. Don't make me regret leaving you unchained." His voice had been laced with that familiar venom, a reminder that I was no longer the girl from the garden but his possession, his prisoner in this gilded cage of a manor.

The clock on the mantel ticked relentlessly, each second stretching into eternity. My mind wandered to the bruises on my wrists from earlier that day, faint purple blooms where he'd gripped me too hard during breakfast. The memory of his cold eyes, his mocking whispers, sent a shiver down my spine. I was exhausted—body and soul—but sleep evaded me, chased away by the ever-present fear that coiled in my gut like a living thing. What if he came back angry? What if the pack's whispers turned into something more sinister? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to summon the warmth of forgotten summers, but all I could feel was the chill seeping through the stone walls.

I didn't hear the footsteps at first. They were muffled, uneven, like someone trying—and failing—to be stealthy. My eyes snapped open just as the door creaked, the latch giving way with a soft click that echoed in my ears like a thunderclap. The door swung inward with a violent thud against the wall, and my heart slammed into my throat, choking off any scream before it could form.

A figure loomed in the doorway—one of Taehyung's guards, a burly wolf named Garrick, whose face I'd seen twisted in leers during pack gatherings. His uniform was disheveled, shirt half-untucked, and the reek of cheap whiskey hit me like a wave, sour and overpowering, mingling with the metallic tang of sweat. His eyes, bloodshot and glazed, raked over me with a hunger that made my skin crawl. This wasn't the disciplined sentinel Taehyung demanded; this was a beast unleashed by the bottle.

"W-what are you doing here?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling as I scrambled back on the bed, the sheets tangling around my legs like restraints. My pulse thundered in my ears, a frantic drumbeat urging me to run, but there was nowhere to go—the room was a trap, the bed a dead end.

Garrick's lips curled into a sloppy, predatory smirk, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. He staggered forward, one hand braced against the doorframe for balance. "Alpha's out playin' politics with the elders," he slurred, his words thick and garbled. "Leavin' you all alone in this big bed... such a waste. You're too damn beautiful to rot here untouched."

My stomach twisted into knots, bile rising in my throat. "Stay back," I warned, my voice cracking despite my effort to sound firm. Inside, terror bloomed like poison ivy, wrapping around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. My wolf stirred within me, a faint growl in my mind—Fight, Clara! But she was weakened, subdued by the constant fear and Taehyung's dominance. I glanced around wildly—the nightstand lamp, a heavy brass thing, was just out of reach. The window was barred, the door now blocked by his hulking frame.

He laughed, a wet, guttural sound that sent chills racing down my spine. "Oh, come on, little Luna. Don't play hard to get. I've seen how the Alpha treats you—cold as ice. Bet you crave a real man's touch." He lurched closer, boots thudding heavily on the floor, each step closing the distance between us.

Panic surged through me, hot and electric. My hands shook as I clutched the edge of the blanket, pulling it up like a pathetic shield. "This is Taehyung's room—my room. He'll kill you for this. Get out!" I shouted now, hoping my voice would carry, but the manor was vast, the pack quarters far away. No one would hear. No one would come.

Garrick's eyes darkened, the drunken haze sharpening into something feral. "He ain't here now, is he? And you... you're just his toy. Time someone showed you what a real wolf can do." In two unsteady strides, he reached the bed, his rough, calloused hands shooting out like claws. He grabbed my ankle first, yanking me toward him with surprising strength despite his inebriation. I kicked wildly, my heel connecting with his thigh, but it only made him grunt and tighten his grip.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, thrashing as he hauled me closer. The fabric of my nightdress—thin silk, a mocking gift from Taehyung—rode up my legs, exposing skin that made his breath hitch. Terror clawed at my insides, a whirlwind of fear and revulsion. My mind flashed to horrors I'd heard whispered in the pack: omegas taken against their will, broken and discarded. Was this my fate? To be violated in the very bed where Taehyung had claimed me as his?

He climbed onto the mattress, his weight dipping it, pinning me down. His free hand clamped over my wrist, bruising as he wrenched it above my head. "Stop fightin', bitch," he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "You'll like it. They all do eventually."

"No!" I sobbed, tears blurring my vision as I twisted beneath him. His body was heavy, oppressive, reeking of alcohol and unwashed fur. I clawed at his face with my free hand, nails raking across his cheek, drawing blood. He hissed in pain, but it only fueled his rage. With a vicious backhand, he slapped me—stars exploded behind my eyes, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.