INICIAR SESIÓNThe music from the foyer faded into a dull hum as Penelope reached the top of the stairs.
The upstairs hallway was dim and quiet, lined with heavy closed doors and thick carpets that muffled her footsteps. Her bare feet sank into the plush fabric as she turned away from the main guest rooms and walked toward the west wing.
She didn't bother checking her old bedroom down the main corridor. She already knew someone else would be living there, and she didn't have the energy to look at her replaced furniture.
Her fractured ribs throbbed with a constant, burning ache. Every breath she took felt tight and restricted.
She just wanted to sit in the dirt for a few minutes.
At the very end of the hall was the glass door that led into the indoor greenhouse.
It used to be her sanctuary. Madeline had let her plant whatever she wanted in the long wooden planter boxes that lined the glass walls. They spent hours in there together when Penelope was little, pressing tiny seeds into the damp soil and separating medicinal herbs for the pack doctor.
Penelope rested her hand on the handle.
She pushed the door open, desperate for the rich scent of wet earth and crushed mint.
The sharp smell of turpentine and oil paint hit her instead.
Penelope stopped in the doorway and let her hand fall to her side.
The wooden planter boxes were gone. The dirt had been swept away, replaced by smooth white tiles that reflected the moonlight shining through the glass ceiling.
A sleek black piano sat in the corner where her favorite rose bushes used to grow. Canvases and wooden easels were scattered across the bright space, surrounded by expensive art supplies and cups filled with watercolor brushes.
Every single trace of the garden had been erased.
Penelope stood frozen. She stared at a half-finished painting of the pack house resting on a tall stand.
She had prepared herself to lose her title as an heiress. She even expected to lose her place at the dinner table tonight. But this room was the only thing that actually belonged to the private bond she shared with her mother.
"What are you doing down this end of the hall?"
Penelope didn't turn around.
Orion’s footsteps slowed behind her. He walked up to the open door and stopped when he realized what she was looking at.
The silence stretched between them for several seconds.
Orion looked at the easels, and then he looked at the dirt smudged on Penelope’s prison uniform. He remembered how Madeline used to scold her for tracking mud into the main house from this exact room.
He swallowed hard.
"Stella needed a place with natural light," Orion said, his voice dropping lower than before.
Penelope didn't say anything.
"Nobody was using it," he added, shifting his weight awkwardly. "The herbs were just dying anyway after you... well, after you left."
"It's fine, Alpha."
Orion winced at the formal title. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Look, I can have the staff set up a small box for you on the back patio," he started, sounding genuinely unsure for the first time. "If you want to plant some of your—"
"Orion, I can't find my silver hairpin for the banquet!"
Quick footsteps echoed down the corridor before he could finish his sentence. Stella hurried around the corner, holding the skirt of her pink dress up so she wouldn't trip over the fabric.
She stopped dead when she saw them standing outside the glass doors.
Stella looked at the bright art studio, and then her eyes snapped to Penelope’s bruised face. The panic set in instantly.
"Oh, Penelope," Stella gasped, pressing a hand over her heart.
Her eyes filled with tears in seconds. Her bottom lip trembled as she rushed forward and stood right next to Orion.
"I am so sorry," Stella cried, her voice cracking perfectly. "I had no idea this was your special place. Nobody told me you used to play in here."
Penelope looked at her. It was a massive greenhouse built onto the side of the main estate. Everyone in the pack knew what it used to be.
"I feel terrible," Stella continued, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I will have the staff move my things out right now. We can bring the dirt back in tomorrow morning and fix it."
Orion’s posture shifted immediately. The guilt he felt a minute ago vanished the second his sister started crying.
He wrapped his arm around Stella’s waist and pulled her close to his side.
"You aren't moving anything, Stella," Orion said firmly.
Stella looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. "But it is her room. I took her room, Orion, and she just got back."
"It is just a room," Orion insisted, rubbing her shoulder. "You need the space for your painting. Penelope doesn't even have any seeds right now anyway."
Penelope watched him comfort his sister. She felt absolutely numb.
Two years ago, she would have fought for this space. She would have cried and reminded him that Madeline gave it to her for her birthday.
"Keep it," Penelope said softly.
Stella sniffled and looked over Orion’s arm. "Are you sure? I really don't mind sharing with you, if you just want a corner for your pots—"
"I said keep it."
Orion glared at Penelope. "Don't speak to her like that. She is trying to be generous to you, and you are just throwing it back in her face."
"I am not throwing anything," Penelope said.
She finally turned away from the studio and looked Orion in the eyes. Her gaze was flat and hollow.
"You don't have to protect her from me," Penelope told him. "I didn't come back here to take her things. I don't want the room, and I don't want her apologies."
Orion crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what do you want? Because right now you are just acting like a martyr."
"I want to make sure the Luna is healthy," Penelope said.
Orion frowned. "Madeline is fine."
"She fainted twice before I went away, and you said in the car that she was sick again," Penelope replied quietly. "She raised me. I owe her for that."
Stella twisted her delicate hands together. "Madeline has me now, Penelope. I take care of her."
Penelope ignored Stella entirely. She kept her focus on the man who used to read her bedtime stories when she was afraid of storms.
"Once I know she is stable, my debt to this family is paid," Penelope said.
Orion let out a harsh laugh and shook his head. "Right. So you are just going to skulk around the halls until you feel like you have proven some sort of point?"
He assumed it was an empty threat. He thought she was just angry and wanted them to beg her to stay.
Penelope took a step back, putting more distance between them.
"You don't need to worry about me being in your way, Alpha," Penelope said calmly. "I do not plan to stay in this family forever."
The steady sound of Russell’s boots echoed against the stone floor as he walked down the quiet corridor of the administrative wing. He had spent the entire morning listening to the visiting nobles whisper. Stella's rumors had spread through the estate with calculated precision. Everywhere he went, he heard hushed conversations about Penelope’s supposed madness, her barren womb, and her violent tendencies.He knew exactly where the poison originated. Stella was terrified of losing control of her narrative.Russell stopped near a tall window and looked out over the frost-covered gardens. He should have been preparing for the treaty negotiations. He should have been reviewing the trade agreements Langford wanted him to sign. Instead, his mind kept returning to the library. He kept seeing Penelope’s hollow eyes and the stark white bandages wrapped around her bleeding hands.He turned away from the window and continued down the hall. He needed to find Alpha Langford to finalize the afterno
Orion was incredibly protective, but he was also exhausted. If Penelope pushed hard enough, Orion might actually sign those papers just to make the headache go away. Once the applications reached the regional registry, visiting Alphas would see Penelope's lineage. Despite her criminal record, Visconti blood was highly valuable. Someone would undoubtedly accept the match.Unless nobody wanted her.Stella smoothed the front of her dress and left her bedroom. She navigated the quiet corridors and headed straight for the sunroom on the first floor.The sunroom was warm and bright, filled with plush seating and small tables. A few of the visiting nobles who preferred an early start were already awake. Stella spotted Elder Vance from the northern territories and Alpha Thorne, a young, ambitious leader from a neighboring pack. They were sitting near a large fern, drinking coffee and discussing trade routes.Stella adjusted her expression, letting a soft, troubled look pull at her features. S
Stella sat perfectly still at the vanity, watching her own reflection in the mirror.The morning light spilled through the large windows of her bedroom, catching the pale blonde curls resting over her shoulders. Her personal maid, Clara, stood behind her, running a brush through her hair with slow, careful strokes.The estate was quiet following the massive gathering the night before. Most of the visiting nobles and Alphas were still asleep, recovering from the wine and the rich food. But the servant quarters were already awake, and the servants were always talking."The clerk was very upset about it," Clara murmured, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "He said someone went behind his desk and took the official forms right out of his sorting tray."Stella met the maid’s eyes in the mirror. "And they think Penelope took them?"Clara nodded, her hands pausing on the brush. "Evelyn saw her walking out of the administrative wing late last night. She had a stack of papers tucked under
The music from the ballroom was a distant, muffled hum by the time Penelope reached the administrative wing. The corridors were quiet, stripped of the elaborate decorations and floral arrangements that filled the guest areas. She preferred it this way. The silence was predictable.She walked into her assigned room and turned on the small lamp beside the bed. The harsh light illuminated the sparse space. There was nothing on the walls and nothing on the dresser. She had lived out of a small bag since returning from the labor camp, never unpacking more than she needed for the day. She had always known this was not a home.Penelope pulled a folded stack of papers from the bottom of her bag. She had taken the blank forms from the pack clerk’s sorting tray days ago. She smoothed out the creases on the mattress and looked at the black ink filling the designated boxes.She felt a profound sense of calm settling into her chest.There was no anger left in her. The burning injustice that had co
The ballroom felt suffocating. Russell needed air, or at least a reprieve from the endless parade of smiling faces and practiced laughter. He left Grant to handle the regional elders and slipped out through the side exit, leaving the noise of the gathering behind.He walked down the dim corridors of the Visconti estate. The architecture was grand, full of tall archways and shadowed alcoves, but it felt hollow. He wasn't just walking to stretch his legs. He was looking for the gray uniform.He checked the dining room first. Empty. He bypassed the kitchens, knowing there would be too many servants bustling around to have a quiet conversation.He found her on the second floor, in the library.The door was propped open. Russell paused in the entryway, keeping to the shadows. The library was vast, lined with towering bookshelves that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. A few lamps cast pools of warm light across the floor, leaving the upper shelves draped in darkness.Penelope stood on a
The music from the ballroom played lightly in the background, a lively tune that felt entirely out of place against the cold reality of the Visconti pack.Russell stood in the corridor, a glass of bourbon resting loosely in his hand. Stella had already hurried back to her guests, her manufactured smile failing to hide the genuine panic he had seen in her eyes. The heiress had expected admiration for her public charity. Instead, she had received silent rejection from the servant she had tried to use as a prop.Footsteps approached from the ballroom entrance. Russell did not turn his head, but he recognized the heavy, aggressive stride.Augustus stepped into the corridor. The guard captain’s jaw was set in a hard line. He glanced toward the kitchen boundary where Penelope had disappeared, then looked directly at the visiting Alpha."She does this all the time," Augustus said, his voice tight with frustration.Russell took a slow sip of his drink. "Does what?""Plays the martyr," Augustu







