Chapter Six: The Door Between

Louisa

A few minutes later, there was a timid knock on the door. I opened it to find the Omega boy struggling under the weight of my suitcases.

“Thanks so much for bringing them up,” I said softly, helping him untangle himself from the straps of my backpack. He piled the other two cases at the end of the four-poster bed. “What’s your name?”

For a moment, he looked at me as though surprised by the question before his eyes slid back to the floor. “I am Freddy,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. “Frederick.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Freddy,” I said, extending my hand. I don’t know why I was so determined to shake someone’s hand that day. Maybe I was desperate for any kind of human connection in this strange, stifling place. He gaped at my offering as if he’d never seen a greeting like it in his life.

“Uh. Uh…” He took my hand in a weak grasp, shook it gingerly, then dropped it quickly. “I should go,” he mumbled. Before I could try to make conversation, he darted out the door and down the stairs.

I poked my head out into the hallway and watched him go. Two workers at the far end were wrestling a long rectangular box down the corridor. Otherwise, the floor was empty — nothing but dark blue carpeting, gleaming brass sconces, and a series of closed doors that seemed to stretch into infinity. The silence pressed in, heavy and watchful. I shrugged and went back inside.

To distract myself, I unpacked, poking around the room like a guest in a hotel. It had a decent bathroom and a generous closet, but nothing about the quarters felt personal. The air smelled faintly of polish and lavender, too clean to be lived in.

Then my attention caught on the door in the right-hand wall. It clearly connected my room to the Alpha’s. My fingers itched with curiosity. I could sense Kaelen was still downstairs — his energy was loud and sharp — and the room beyond was empty.

I crossed the carpet and turned the handle. I expected it to be locked. It wasn’t. The door creaked open easily, and I gasped when I saw the darkness within.

Blackout curtains smothered the light, casting everything in gloom. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a large king-sized bed, unmade and surrounded by sparse, battered furniture. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something faintly sweet and masculine — familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Something about it tugged at my chest, strange and intoxicating.

This wasn’t Kaelen’s room.

The realization hit me like a jolt of static. I took an involuntary step forward, drawn by that scent, my wolf stirring restlessly. I wanted — absurdly — to bury my face in the blankets, to breathe in that fading trace of warmth. Then it clicked.

This was the old Alpha’s room. Julian’s.

The air was heavy with grief and abandonment, the kind of silence that only death or heartbreak can leave behind. Why on earth had Kaelen placed me next to his stepfather’s suite? Was it deliberate? A cruel joke? No wonder Shawn and Elder Halfmoon had winced. I backed away, heart pounding, and shut the door firmly. Then I locked it — on my side.

This family was even stranger than I’d imagined.

“Okay,” I said aloud, sitting on the bed. “Rough start, but it can’t stay like this forever.”

I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t imagine ever being friends with Kaelen, but somehow, we’d need to make this arrangement functional — at least for the pack’s sake. We would be serving side by side.

My stomach twisted. Eventually, we’d have to think about heirs. The mental image of being intimate with that little Napoleon sent me sprinting to the bathroom to lose my lunch.

When I finally sat on the cold tile floor, trembling and hollow, my inner wolf stirred uneasily. She was not pleased. She’d been clear from the beginning — she wanted no partner but our fated mate. I had long since abandoned that fairytale, but she hadn’t. Now, that fragile ember of hope was about to be extinguished. Once Kaelen marked me, that would be the end of it.

Goodbye, love.

I rinsed my mouth, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked too bright, too angry. I couldn’t sit still. Obedience had never been my strong suit, and I wasn’t about to start now.

I slipped into the hallway, ignoring Kaelen’s order to stay put.

The house unfolded around me in long, echoing corridors. I found the kitchen buzzing with activity, the air warm and full of clattering dishes. Maids set tables in the dining room, glancing up curiously but saying nothing. Beyond that lay a ballroom — vast, empty, and coated in dust. The air was stale, as if it hadn’t been used since Annie’s death.

Another hallway led to the administrative wing. Behind heavy double doors, muffled male voices murmured — Kaelen’s tone cutting through even the thick wood. I moved on, uninterested in eavesdropping.

The next open doorway revealed a modern conference room with tall windows overlooking the gardens. Unlike the manicured front lawns, these gardens were wild and overgrown — roses climbing trellises, tiger lilies swaying in the breeze, life reclaiming order.

Movement caught my eye.

A shifting shadow stepped out from beneath an ornamental tree. A tall, thin man moved slowly along the path, every step labored. His shoulders slumped, and his hands trembled as he reached for a rosebud. His clothes hung loosely from his wasted frame.

Julian.

I barely recognized the haggard face of the former Alpha. His once-commanding presence had faded to a frail whisper. I didn’t think he could see me through the glass, but his eyes stayed fixed on the window — on me, perhaps, or maybe on his own reflection.

I couldn’t reconcile this ghost with the man I’d once admired from afar — the proud, noble Alpha who’d carried himself with quiet strength. Now he moved like a specter among the roses, his hand dropping from the bloom as if it weighed too much to hold.

An unexpected ache bloomed behind my ribs. Compassion — sharp and uninvited — pierced through my resentment. I wanted, irrationally, to step outside and tell him he wasn’t alone.

But what could I possibly say to a grieving Alpha?

Long after Julian disappeared from view, I stood there, staring at the empty path.

“There you are.”

Kaelen’s irritated voice snapped me back. I jumped. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs?”

He looked ready to snap, but then a wicked glint flashed in his eye — a silent promise of retribution. “Never mind. Dinner is ready. We need to put in an appearance.”

I took a steadying breath. “Yes, of course,” I said dully. “Appearances are so important.”

My stomach lurched at the thought of facing the pack, but I stole one last glance at the garden. Would Julian be there again tonight, haunting the roses?

Maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea after all.