Chapter Seven: Trust No One

Serena’s POV

“What did he tell you?”

Kael is waiting outside Marcus’s study like he never left.

I stop so fast that my shoulder hits the door behind me. He steps closer at once, filling the hall, blocking the light, blocking my way out. His cut shoulder is wrapped now, but I can still smell blood under the clean shirt he changed into.

For one wild second, I almost tell him everything. That Marcus said our bond is worse than forbidden, that if one of us dies, the other dies too, that someone inside this house sent wolves to my window, that his own father told me not to trust him.

Then Marcus’s last words hit me again.

Trust no one. Not even Kael, so I lie.

“Nothing useful.”

Kael goes very still. He knows. Not what I’m hiding. Just that I’m hiding something. His eyes search my face, slow and sharp. “Try again.” “I said nothing useful.”

“Serena.” Just my name. But the way he says it makes my spine lock. I push past him, or try to. His hand closes around my wrist before I make it two steps. Not rough, not gentle either, certainly. “Let go.”

“What did he tell you?” I look down at his hand on me, then back up at him. “You first.” Something hard flashes across his face. “This isn’t a game.” “No,” I say, louder than I mean to. “It’s my life.”

That lands. I see it in the way his jaw tightens. Good. I’m done being the last person to be told anything.

“You all keep talking around me,” I say. “About my blood. My bond. My future. You decide what I should know, what I should fear, and where I should stay. And somehow I’m supposed to trust that?”

Kael doesn’t let go. The hall is quiet now. Too quiet. The kind that makes every word feel dangerous.

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he says. I let out a short laugh. “That’s what everyone says right before they hide something.”

His grip tightens once, then eases. Like he heard more truth in that than he wanted to. “Fine,” he says. “Here’s the part no one will say plainly. The pack is already shifting.” I frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means they know something is off.” His voice lowers. “They saw me go after you. They saw me bring you back. They saw the forest attack and how fast I found you. Wolves notice patterns.”

A cold weight settles in my stomach.

“And if they figure it out?” I ask. His eyes hold mine. “Then they’ll start choosing sides.” The words sit between us, heavy, ugly.

“Against me?” I ask.

“Against us.” That should scare me more than it does. Maybe because I’m still stuck on the word "us." I pull my wrist free this time. He lets me. “What happens if they choose the wrong side?”

Kael takes a breath, slow and controlled. “Then the pack stops being a home and becomes a battlefield.”

I stare at him.

The Alpha mask is back in place. Calm face. Hard voice. But something under it feels strained, like he’s holding a door shut with his bare hands.

“Did you mean it?” I ask quietly.

“What?”

“In there. When you said I was the biggest threat you’ve ever faced.” His expression doesn’t change. That somehow makes it worse. “Yes.” The honesty cuts deeper than if he’d lied. I nod once. “Good. At least one of us is telling the truth tonight.” I move around him before he can stop me.

This time he doesn’t grab me. “Serena.” I keep walking. “Stop.” I do. Not because he ordered it. Because there’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before.

I turn back.

He’s still standing in front of Marcus’s study, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on me as if he looks away for one second and something bad will happen.

“When I smelled blood in the forest,” he says, “I thought I was too late.”

The words hit harder than they should.

He looks almost angry after saying them. Like the truth slipped out, and he hates himself for it. “I forgot every reason to stay away from you.” His mouth tightens. “That’s the problem.” For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then footsteps sound from the far end of the hall. Wolves passing by. Voices. The mansion is breathing again.

Kael steps back first. “Go to your room,” he says. There it is. The wall. The order. The distance. I fold my arms. “No.” His eyes narrow.

“I’m done hiding in that room while people decide what to do with me.” My voice shakes once. I steady it. “If someone inside this house helped those wolves, then I want to know who.”

“You’re not ready.” “You don’t get to decide that.” “I do if it keeps you breathing.” I hate that part of me warms at that. I hate it more because he sees it. His gaze drops to my mouth for one brief second. Then back to my eyes. “We do this my way,” he says. “For now.”

The words should make me furious. Instead, I hear the strain under them. The fear he keeps trying to bury under command, so I ask the one thing I shouldn’t. “If I really am that dangerous,” I swallow. “Why haven’t you walked away?”

Kael looks at me for a long moment. When he answers, his voice is quiet. “You know why.” He turns and walks off before I can stop him, and I stand there hating that he’s right.

Maya finds me ten minutes later in the east wing, scrubbing dirt off my hands in a washroom sink.

“You look terrible,” she says gently. “Thank you.” She comes closer and takes one of my wrists before I can pull away. Her fingers are warm, careful, and healer-steady. “Sit.” I sit on the edge of a low bench while she cleans the scrapes on my palms. It stings. I don’t flinch.

Maya glances up at me once. “That bad?” I laugh, but no sound comes out. “Marcus says I might destroy the pack. Kael looks at me like he wants to kiss me or kill me. I’m not sure which one would be worse.”

Maya’s hands pause. Then she goes back to wrapping my palm. “Only one of those sounds like Kael.” I look at her sharply. “Which one?”

She ties the cloth and gives me a dry smile. “Exactly.” That should make me feel better. It doesn’t. “How long until the next full moon?” I ask. Her eyes flick to mine. Too fast. Too telling.

“Twelve days,” she says. My stomach drops.

Marcus’s words come back in a rush. If Kael claims you before the next full moon, I stand too quickly.

Maya catches my arm. “Serena?”

“I need to be alone.” “Are you sure?” No. Not even close, but I nod anyway. My room feels different when I step inside. Still, quiet, wrong. I stop just past the door.

The window is closed, but the curtain is moving slightly, as if someone touched it recently. A cold thread slips down my spine. Slowly, I cross the room.

The latch on the window is scratched. not old marks, fresh ones. My throat goes dry. Someone was here, inside. I back away one step, then see it.

A folded piece of paper on the floor beside the bed. I didn’t leave that there; I crouch and pick it up with unsteady fingers. There are only five words written inside.