A new world

Inside the suite, Eliara waited.

One minute passed.

Then another.

He still didn't return.

Good.

That gave her time.

She moved quickly, forcing herself to stay calm. Panic would only make her careless.

She went to the massive glass window first and looked down.

Her stomach tightened immediately.

The hotel stood far too high above the city.

Even with wolf agility, jumping was impossible.

She would die before reaching the ground.

So that option was gone.

Her gaze shifted to the door.

Slowly, she walked toward it and wrapped her fingers around the handle.

She opened it just enough to peek outside.

Her hope vanished instantly.

Two men stood in the hallway.

The same men from the market.

The same men who had drugged her.

They looked directly at her.

Neither spoke, but they didn't need to.

The message was clear.

You are not leaving.

Eliara slowly shut the door.

Her jaw tightened.

So she was trapped.

She turned away, forcing herself to think.

There had to be another way.

Her breathing slowly steadied, though her heart still pounded hard against her ribs. Panic would not help her now. Panic had never helped anyone in the lower districts.

Eliara pressed both hands against her face and shut her eyes for a moment.

Think.

That was how she had survived all these years.

Not through strength.

Not through status.

Through caution.

Through silence.

Through knowing when to disappear.

In Velkaris, rank decided almost everything.

Lesser wolves were at the bottom—barely acknowledged by society, tolerated more than accepted. Above them were Clan Wolves, then Highbloods, then Apex wolves, and above all stood the Alpha Sovereigns—the bloodlines that ruled the kingdom.

Eliara had been born with the worst possible disadvantage.

A Lesser Wolf.

An orphan.

And alone.

She barely remembered her parents. Their faces had faded with time, becoming nothing more than warm fragments in broken memories. A hand stroking her hair. A soft voice humming at night. The scent of home.

That was all.

After their deaths, she had been taken in by her aunt.

Her aunt had been a Clan Wolf—not wealthy, not powerful, but respected enough to survive comfortably. She had lived in one of the old housing rows near the border between the clan districts and the lower settlements.

It was the closest thing Eliara had ever known to safety.

The house had been small and worn, with cracked walls and a roof that leaked whenever winter storms came through the mountains. The wooden floor creaked with every step, and during colder months the rooms felt like ice.

But it had been home.

Her aunt used to call her a pup.

Not mockingly.

Fondly.

"My stubborn little pup," she would say whenever Eliara argued or tried to do something alone.

A small smile almost touched Eliara's lips at the memory.

Almost.

Her aunt had died when Eliara was still young.

Too young.

After that, survival became her responsibility.

She learned quickly.

Keep your head down.

Avoid noble wolves.

Never attract attention.

Never owe anyone anything.

She had spent years building a life so small that nobody would notice if she entered or left a room.

She rented a tiny one-room house in the lower district now. If it could even be called a house.

It was barely larger than this hotel bedroom.

A narrow bed pushed against one wall.

A tiny kitchen corner with an old stove.

A worn wooden table with one chair.

A bathroom so cramped she could stretch her arms and almost touch both walls.

Nothing luxurious.

Nothing soft.

Nothing excessive.

But it was hers.

Every coin spent on that house had been earned by her own hands.

Every piece of furniture had been bought slowly, over years.

No gifts.

No charity.

No dependence.

That was why being here felt unbearable.

This room.

This luxury.

These polished floors and expensive furniture.

It all felt like mockery.

Because everything around her screamed wealth, power, ownership.

And ownership was exactly what frightened her.

Ronan did not look at her like a person.

He looked at her like something he had chosen.

Something he intended to keep.

Eliara opened her eyes.

Her jaw tightened.

No.

She refused to become someone's possession.

No matter who he was.

No matter how powerful.

She would find a way out.

She had to.

Because if there was one thing Eliara knew better than anyone

It was how to survive cages

She turned sharply when she felt the aura of someone behind her.

Three women stood near the door.

Highbloods.

She could tell immediately from their aura alone. Their presence carried the quiet weight of rank—controlled, refined, and far stronger than anything a Lesser Wolf could produce.

They looked around her age, perhaps only a few years older, but every detail about them screamed status. Their clothes were elegant, their posture straight, their expressions carefully composed.

And the way they looked at her—

Disgust.

Eliara almost scoffed.

It wasn't the first time she had received that look from someone nobler than her. She had seen it all her life—the subtle curl of a lip, the dismissive glance, the silent question of Why is someone like you even here?

Her gaze dropped to what they were carrying.

One held a neatly folded set of clothes.

Another carried accessories and several pairs of shoes.

The third held a tray filled with different dishes, each one more expensive-looking than anything Eliara had eaten in years.

Without a word, they walked past her and placed everything carefully on the bed.

Then they turned to face her.

The chubbier one stepped forward. Unlike the others, she made little effort to hide her irritation.

"You are to eat, bathe, and change into these," she said coldly, gesturing toward the items on the bed. "We will return in two hours."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"You are advised to cooperate. Otherwise, we will be forced to assist you."

The meaning behind assist was clear.

Force.

The three women turned and walked out, already murmuring quietly among themselves, not caring whether Eliara heard them.

Once the door shut, Eliara was alone again.

She stared at the clothes.

Then at the food.

Her stomach betrayed her with a small twist of hunger.

She hadn't eaten since earlier that day, and the rich scent of roasted meat, warm bread, and spices filled the room.

It smelled incredible.

For a brief second, temptation won.

Then caution returned.

No.

There was no way she was eating that.

Who knew what they had put in it?

She looked back at the bathroom door instead.

A bath, at least, seemed harmless.

Besides, refusing would be pointless.

The Highblood women were stronger than her. If she resisted, they would simply force her. Eliara exhaled slowly. For now she would cooperate. But only until she found an opportunity to escape.

Eliara stayed where she was for a long moment after the women left.

The silence felt heavier now..

Like the room itself belonged to someone else and she was only allowed to exist inside it temporarily.

Her gaze moved again to the clothes on the bed.

After a long pause, she exhaled and went into the bathroom.

The bathroom was larger than her entire living space back home.

White marble floors. Soft golden lighting. A mirror that stretched from sink to ceiling. Everything smelled faintly of warm soap and expensive oils.

Eliara hesitated at the door.

For a second, she imagined him—Violet Eyes—walking in without warning.

That thought made her shoulders tighten immediately.

"No," she muttered under her breath, stepping inside quickly and shutting the door.

She locked it.

Twice.

Only then did she breathe properly.

The bath itself was already prepared.

Warm water.

Soft steam rising.

The kind of comfort she had only ever heard rich wolves talk about.

She lowered herself in carefully.

At first, she didn't relax. Her muscles stayed tense, her thoughts restless. But slowly, the warmth started to pull something out of her body—fatigue she hadn't even realized she was carrying.

For a few minutes, she just sat there, staring at the water rippling around her skin.

When she finally washed her hair, the feeling changed.

The water carried away dust from the lower districts, the smell of old streets, the weight of survival.

When she stepped out later, wrapped in a towel, she didn't immediately recognize herself.

The air around her felt different.

Cleaner.

Softer.

Even her skin looked brighter under the mirror's light.

She avoided her reflection at first—then forced herself to look.

The girl staring back wasn't different.

But she looked… less worn down.

Eliara looked away quickly, uncomfortable with that thought.

She dressed inside the bathroom.

The clothes on the bed were simple at first glance, but nothing about them was ordinary.

A dark fitted dress—deep charcoal with faint silver threading along the hem. The fabric wasn't loud, but it carried a quiet richness, the kind that only revealed itself when she moved. Light caught it in subtle ways, like it had been designed not to impress—but to be noticed anyway.

It hugged her frame lightly, not restricting, just shaping her outline.

She didn't like it.

It felt too deliberate.

Too seen.

Still, it fit.

When she was done, she lingered in front of the mirror again, brushing a hand over the fabric once before stepping back.

A knock came at the door.

Eliara tensed immediately.

She opened it cautiously.

One of the women stood there again—but not the same one from before. This one was slimmer, quieter in presence, her expression neutral rather than openly annoyed.

"Come," she said simply. "It's time."

Eliara nodded once, hiding her tensions, and followed.

The suite beyond was quiet.

Too quiet.

As she walked through, she finally noticed how large the place actually was. There was a living space, a dining area, even a small kitchen corner everything arranged with cold precision, like no one actually lived here… only passed through it.

And him

The Violet Eyes man was nowhere in sight.

Her steps slowed slightly.

Good.

He wasn't here.

That made leaving easier. She planned on making a run for it once she was outside.

Still, the three men she had seen before were present, standing near the exit like part of the furniture. The same Highblood aura pressed faintly against the room controlled, disciplined, watching without looking obvious.

Eliara kept her face blank.

Inside, her thoughts were already moving.

Wait for the exit. One gap. One mistake. Then run.

They led her out.

The hallway outside was wide, polished, and silent.

Everything smelled expensive.

The building itself felt unreal like it didn't belong in the lower world she came from. Soft lighting lined the walls. Doors stretched endlessly in both directions. Even the silence had structure.

When they reached the elevator, she noticed it immediately security patterns.

Two men entered with her.

One stayed behind.

The woman remained close.

No blind spots.

Eliara's jaw tightened slightly.

They were careful.

Very careful.

The elevator descended.

When the doors opened, she was met with a large lobby.

Grand chandeliers. Dark marble floors. High ceilings. Everything too clean, too perfect, too controlled.

This wasn't just a hotel.

It was a high-ranking facility.

Elite territory.

She kept walking.

Outside, the air hit differently.

Cooler.

Heavier.

The building they exited from was massive far larger than she had expected. Guards were positioned subtly around the perimeter, not openly aggressive, but clearly in place.

Two sleek black vehicles were already waiting.

One for her.

One for the escorts.

Eliara's eyes flicked briefly around the area.

No chance.

Not here.

Not yet.

She climbed into the car without resistance.

The drive didn't take long, but it was enough for her to understand she was being taken deeper into territory she didn't recognize.

The streets outside shifted gradually.

Lower stone buildings disappeared.

Lights became cleaner.

Roads wider.

Security more visible.

And then it changed completely.

Velkaris High District.

The elite zone of the werewolf kingdom.

Massive estates rose behind iron gates. Towers of glass and stone reflected the night sky. Even the air felt different less chaos, more control.

This was where power lived.

Where Apex wolves ruled without needing to announce it.

Eliara stared out the window, her stomach tightening.

So this was where he brought her.

The Violet Eyes man.

An Apex… she was almost certain now.

Not a Sovereign.

But close enough to sit just beneath them.

The car slowed a gate opened and they drove inside.

The mansion was worse than she expected.

Not in a bad way, in a suffocating way.

It wasn't just big.

It felt endless.

Tall pillars framed the entrance. The structure itself stretched back into darkness, lit only by soft golden lights along pathways and balconies. Everything was too symmetrical, too perfect, like it had been designed to remind anyone entering exactly where they stood in the world.

Below it all.

Eliara stepped out slowly, taking it in despite herself.

This wasn't just wealth.

It was authority.

Highblood servants were already waiting.

They guided her without touching her, leading her through long corridors lined with art she didn't understand and furniture she knew she could never afford in ten lifetimes.

Eventually, they stopped at a room.

Her room.

It was… large.

Far larger than anything she had ever slept in.

A bed sat near the center, layered with dark silk sheets. Soft lighting glowed from the ceiling. A balcony door stood slightly open, letting in a cool night breeze.

There was even food already waiting on a small table.

Eliara stayed near the entrance.

One of the servants spoke quietly. "You may rest here. You will not be disturbed."

Then they left.

The door closed.

Click.

Silence again.

Eliara stood still for a moment.

Then slowly, she walked to the table.

The food was warm.

Real.

Her stomach tightened painfully.

She hesitated.

Then sat down.

"…Just this once," she muttered.

She ate.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

Her body betrayed her completely after that.

By the time she finished, her thoughts were heavy, her eyelids harder to keep open.

She stood, forcing herself to stay alert.

"I have to stay awake," she whispered.

She paced the room once.

Then again.

"I have to stay awake."

But exhaustion didn't care.

The warmth of the bath earlier, the safety of the room, the fullness in her stomach it all worked against her.

Her steps slowed.

Her breathing deepened.

And eventually she sat on the edge of the bed.

Just for a moment.

---

Morning came softly.

Sunlight slipped through the balcony curtains and touched her face.

Eliara stirred.

For a second, she didn't move.

Then her eyes opened.

She turned slightly

And froze.

Someone was beside her.

Violet eyes.

Watching her.

Calm.

Too calm.

A faint smirk on his lips.

Eliara didn't scream immediately.

She moved first.

A sharp motion.

She threw herself off the bed in one instinctive leap, landing hard on the floor, scrambling back until her shoulder hit the wall.

Her breathing came fast.

Her eyes locked on him.

And for the first time he looked like he had been expecting exactly that reaction.