005

The door closed softly behind her, but the sound echoed in Elowen’s head longer than it should have.

She stood just inside the room, not moving at first.

Then she looked up. And froze.

The space was massive. Not just large—excessive. High ceilings stretched above her, detailed with carved patterns she couldn’t even fully take in at once. The walls were lined with dark wood and gold accents, polished to a shine that reflected the light from the chandeliers overhead. The bed alone was bigger than the entire sleeping quarters at the Forge, draped in thick fabrics that looked too expensive to even touch.

Her throat tightened slightly.

In her former life—before the war, before the cages—this would have been something out of a story. Something she would have admired from a distance, never expecting to stand in the middle of it.

Now she was here. Not as a guest. Not by choice.

“This is…” she muttered under her breath, her voice trailing off.

She didn’t finish it.

Because what was there to say?

This was what power looked like.

This was what House Damaris could afford.

And she as standing in it like something they had just picked up and placed here.

The door opened again before she could think further.

Several maids entered, quiet but efficient, each carrying something—cloths, trays, bottles. Behind them came the elderly woman from before, her posture straight despite her age, her presence commanding in a quieter way.

“Get everything ready,” she instructed, her voice calm but firm. “We don’t have time to waste.”

The maids moved immediately.

Elowen frowned, stepping back slightly. “What are they doing?”

No one answered her at first.

One of the maids approached with a bowl, reaching for her arm.

Elowen pulled back sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

The room stilled for half a second.

The elderly woman looked at her, not irritated—just… patient.

“You are to be prepared to meet the elders,” she said simply.

“I can prepare myself,” Elowen shot back. “I don’t need—this.”

“You don’t have that option.”

“I do,” Elowen insisted, her voice tightening. “I’m not a doll you can just…”

“You are under the authority of House Damaris,” the woman cut in, not raising her voice, but making it clear enough. “And their orders are not suggestions.”

Elowen’s jaw clenched.

For a moment, it looked like she might argue again.

But then she exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping just slightly.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Do whatever you want.”

The woman nodded once. “Good.”

She stepped closer, her gaze softening just a fraction. “My name is Maureen.”

Elowen didn’t respond.

Maureen didn’t seem to expect her to.

“Now,” she said, turning slightly to the others, “be gentle. She’s not used to this.”

Elowen almost scoffed. Just wow.

The bath came first. Warm.

Too warm.

Elowen sat stiffly in the large tub as the maids worked around her, pouring the liquid over her skin. It wasn’t water.

Milk.

She frowned slightly, watching it run down her arms. “What is this?”

“Milk bath,” one of the maids said softly. “It softens the skin.”

Elowen didn’t reply.

She let them work, her mind elsewhere.

The five brothers.

Her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the tub.

Zevrian is calm, controlled, watching everything like he already knew the outcome.

Draven is sharp, restless, dangerous in a more obvious way.

And then Sorrian.

Her jaw tightened instantly. No.

There was nothing kind about him. Nothing real.

He would be the hardest to deal with because she knew him. Or at least—she thought she did.

Ellion…

Her expression shifted just slightly.

He had looked… different. Kinder.

Or maybe just less cold.

Lysara’s voice echoed in her mind. ‘I heard the fifth one is nice.’

Elowen’s chest tightened.

Lysara.

She swallowed hard, her vision blurring slightly.

Lysara was right after all. She was.

“Turn please,” a maid said gently.

Elowen obeyed without thinking, her thoughts still tangled.

If she had to survive here, she needed to be smart.

She needed to choose carefully. Who to trust and who to avoid.

Who to use.

Her lips pressed together.

Ellion would be the easiest. That much was clear.

While Sorrian…

She almost laughed under her breath.

Sorrian would be her biggest enemy. But she might be able to use him in some way.

“Hold still.” The voice pulled her back.

She blinked, realizing she was no longer in the bath.

She sat in front of a mirror now, wrapped in soft fabric as the maids worked on her white hair.

When had that happened?

Her reflection stared back at her. She looked like the female version of her father. Same grey eyes, same pale blond hair.

Different. Too clean. Too put together.

Elowen blinked quickly, forcing the tears back.

“Careful,” Maureen said, stepping closer. “You’ll ruin the makeup.”

Elowen exhaled slowly, lifting her chin slightly as the final touches were applied.

“I was just thinking about a friend,” she said quietly.

Maureen just nodded and didn’t press further.

The dress was black.

Simple—but not really.

It fit perfectly, hugging her in ways that felt intentional. The fabric was heavier than the one from the Manor, richer.

Everything about it screamed value.

Elowen stood in front of the mirror again, staring at herself.

For a moment, she didn’t recognize the girl looking back.

Her hair framed her face neatly. Her skin glowed faintly under the light. Her features looked sharper, more defined.

She looked… beautiful.

The thought came uninvited and she frowned slightly, her lips pressing together.

“No,” she muttered.

Because that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t for her. This was for them.

Just like the Manor. Just like before.

Her stomach tightened.

“The elders will be expecting you shortly,” Maureen said.

The words hit her harder than expected.

“El—elders?” Elowen repeated, her voice betraying a flicker of unease.

Why didn't she ask this before?

“Yes.”

Her chest tightened again.

“Who are they?”

Maureen hesitated just slightly. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

That didn’t help. Not at all.

Elowen’s breathing picked up slightly.

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act?

She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for any of this.

A knock interrupted the moment.

One of the maids moved quickly to the door, opening it just enough to speak with whoever was outside.

She turned back.

“Sir Sorrian wishes to see you, my lady.”

Elowen went still and her expression hardened instantly.

“I’m not…”

“The choice is yours,” Maureen said calmly, cutting in before she could finish. “This is your room.”

Elowen blinked.

Her room.

The words settled slowly. Something shifted in her chest.

A small realization.

She wasn’t completely powerless here.

Not entirely.

Her chin lifted slightly. “Send him in.”

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment he stepped inside, his presence filled the room in a way that made her skin crawl.

“Out,” he said sharply, not even looking at the maids.

Maureen didn’t argue. None of them did.

They filed out quickly, the door closing behind them.

Elowen didn’t wait.

She walked straight up to him. And slapped him.

Hard. Right across the face.

The sound echoed in the room.

Sorrian’s head snapped to the side, his expression frozen for a second in pure shock.

Then, he turned back slowly.

“Elowen…”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare say my name like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “You don’t understand…”

“Then explain it,” she shot back. “Explain why you lied.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Because I had to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Had to?”

“You’re in Grimhowl Bay,” he said, his tone tightening. “Werewolves don’t like humans. Especially not my brothers. If I told the truth…”

“No,” she cut in, her voice rising. “Not now. Before. Before the war. Before everything. Why did you lie to me then?”

He hesitated just for a second. “I fell in love with you,” he said finally. “And I needed to know it was real. That you loved me for me—not for what I was.”

Elowen stared at him, disbelief flickered across her face. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, it’s not.” Her voice broke slightly. “I hate you.”

The words came out sharper than she intended.

“I hate you,” she repeated. “I mourned you. Every single day. I thought you were dead. I thought they killed you.” Her chest tightened, her breathing uneven now.

“And all this time…” she whispered. “You were alive.”

Sorrian stepped closer, his voice softening. “Elowen…”

“You didn’t even look for me,” she said, her voice cracking. “Not once.”

“I couldn’t…”

“You didn’t,” she cut in. “And for that, I will never forgive you.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She turned away, her shoulders shaking.

Sorrian reached for her. “Please…”

“Don’t touch me!”

He froze.

Silence stretched between them.

“What do you remember from that night?” he asked quietly.

Elowen stiffened. “I don’t,” she said quickly. “I lost my memory.”

A lie. A complete lie.

Because she remembered everything.

The screams. The blood. The howls.

The fangs sinking into her skin.

The fucking wolf that gave her the scar on her shoulder. She remembered the eyes. And his furs. She felt his face because she faded and woke up in the Cellars.

She swallowed hard. She will never, ever forget it. Never.

“One thing I do remember,” she added, her voice colder now. “Is that you lied to me. For months.”

She turned back to him, her expression hard again. “Get out.”

“Elowen…”

“Get out!”

He hesitated first and then left.

The door closed behind him.

And she broke.

Her knees buckled, her body folding in on itself as the sobs finally tore through her chest.

She remembered every single detail and she would never forget.

She barely registered the door opening again.

Barely felt the arms catching her before she hit the floor.

“Elowen—” Ellion’s voice.