CHAPTER 5

The drive stretched on in silence, the road twisting deeper into the woods. The trees grew taller, their branches curling overhead until the sky was little more than a gray ribbon above us.

I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t dare.

The older man in the passenger seat spoke once or twice to Alpha Mace in a low tone I couldn’t catch, and Alpha Mace would give a short nod, his eyes fixed on the road. The rest of the time, only the hum of the engine filled the space — steady, endless, heavy enough to drown my thoughts.

After what felt like hours, the forest began to thin, and I caught a flicker of light through the trees. Then the car turned onto a long, winding path of stone, and there it was.

A mansion — no, not just a mansion. It was something older, colder. Stone towers reached up against the gray sky, their tips fading into fog. The walls were draped with ivy, the windows glowing faintly gold in the gloom. A heavy gate stood open to let the car pass, and as we rolled through, I felt something shift in the air.

Power.

It was everywhere — in the ground, in the walls, in the silence that clung to the place. My wolf stirred uneasily, pressing against my skin, her instincts unsure whether to hide or bow.

The car stopped at the front steps. The older man got out first, his movements crisp and practiced. Alpha Mace followed, pushing the door open with one hand. He didn’t look at me when he said, “Out.”

I obeyed.

The cold air hit me first — sharp and biting. My bare feet met the stone, and I shivered. The coat hung heavy on me, brushing the ground.

Up close, the building was even more overwhelming. The front doors were carved with ancient symbols, their meaning long lost, but the weight of them made my chest tighten.

Alpha Mace turned to the older man. “Get Brenda to find her a room.”

“Yes, Alpha,” the man said, bowing his head before disappearing inside.

I stood there, clutching the bag to my chest, feeling small under the towering walls. Mace’s gaze shifted to me — unreadable, cold, the kind of stare that saw too much and said nothing.

“From now on,” he said quietly, “you’ll live here.”

Here.

The word sank into me like a stone in deep water.

I looked around again — at the high windows, the endless corridors I could glimpse through the open door, the faint glow of candlelight beyond. It was beautiful. And terrifying. A place that could either hide me or swallow me whole.

Alpha Mace turned and started up the steps, his voice trailing back over his shoulder.

“Come.”

I followed, my bare feet leaving faint prints on the cold stone.

As I crossed the threshold, something inside me shifted again. The air here was different — thicker, charged. The scent of ancient wood and iron filled my lungs.

For the first time since I could remember, I wasn’t surrounded by the pack that hated me. But the silence of this new place whispered one truth all the same:

Freedom wasn’t always safety.

And as the door shut behind me with a deep, echoing thud, I couldn’t tell if I had escaped my hell… or simply walked into another.

Alpha Mace didn’t say another word after instructing the old man. He simply turned on his heel, his tall frame disappearing down the dim hallway, leaving me standing there in the cold, cavernous space with my bag clutched against me. The heavy door shut behind him, and for a heartbeat I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow or just vanish into the shadows.

That’s when I saw her.

A girl — maybe a little older than me — with hair the color of midnight and electric blue streaks catching the light, rushing down the hallway like she’d been waiting for me. Her soft tank top clung to her shoulders and a small wolf pendant rested at her collarbone. Her eyes were bright, kind in a way I didn’t recognize, and for a second my chest tightened because no one ever looked at me like that.

She slowed as she reached me and offered a small, warm smile.

“Please forgive me for being late. Follow me.”

Her voice was light, almost a whisper, but in this stone place it carried. I hesitated, then moved after her. She led me down a narrower corridor lit by flickering sconces, until we reached a door at the very end.

She stopped, placed a hand on the handle, and looked back at me with that same gentle expression. Then she opened the door and flicked a switch on the wall.

Light spilled inside.

It wasn’t like any room I had ever been allowed into. The walls were stone, warm and golden under the glow of candles and a wrought-iron chandelier that hung from a wooden-beam ceiling. A small arched window let in a faint spill of gray morning light. Against one wall stood a sturdy wooden wardrobe; against the other, a bed — a real bed — with soft linen sheets, a thick blanket, and pillows that looked like clouds. The floor was polished wood with a woven rug, and the whole place smelled faintly of lavender and old wood.

“Go on,” she urged softly. “Get in.”

I stepped over the threshold like it might disappear beneath me.

“It’s already morning but not dawn yet,” she said, rubbing her arms like she was sleepy. “So… good night.”

She started to turn away but my hand shot out on instinct, fingers brushing hers. She blinked, surprised. I realized what I’d done and quickly drew back, stammering, “I—I’m sorry—”

She tilted her head. “It’s okay.”

I swallowed hard. “This… this room. What is this room?”

She smiled again. “It’s your room.”

The words didn’t make sense. I froze, my eyes darting from her face to the bed, to the wardrobe, back to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Won’t I… won’t I get in trouble?” My voice trembled.

Her brow furrowed, puzzled. “Why would you? The Beta told me to get you a room. Why? You don’t like it?”

“No!” I shook my head quickly, clutching the coat tighter around me. “No, it’s not that.”

She yawned softly. “Can we introduce ourselves properly in the morning? I really need to sleep. Just… sleep, okay? Nice to meet you, by the way. You can call me Brenda.”

Before I could answer she gave me a little wave and turned down the corridor, her blue hair swaying behind her. Her footsteps faded until I was alone again.

I turned back to the room. It felt unreal, like one of the dreams I used to have as a child before the pack had beaten the softness out of me. Slowly, I stepped further inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

I reached out and trailed my fingers across the bedspread. It was so soft it almost hurt.

Then I sat down.

“I have a room,” I whispered to myself. “I have a bed. I have a bed. I have a bed.”

And then — a voice, soft and warm in my head.

Yes, you do.

I froze. My wolf. My wolf’s voice. For the first time, she spoke back to me.

I knew Alpha Mace was different. She said.

Tears welled up in my eyes. For a long time I had forgotten what it felt like to cry — not from pain, but from something breaking open inside you. They slipped down my cheeks silently, one after another.

I had shifted. I had seen her — my wolf. And now I had a room. A bed. A voice in my head that wasn’t my tormentor’s.

For the first time in forever, I wasn’t nothing.

And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself cry.

---

The loud knock startled me so hard I jolted upright. My foot slammed into the edge of the bed, and I hissed through my teeth, clutching it as pain shot up my leg. My heart thudded like I’d been caught doing something wrong. The sunlight streaming through the small window told me it was already late morning — maybe even noon.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

I was dead. I’d slept too long. What kind of fool sleeps in the Alpha’s house?

I scrambled off the bed, tugging at the coat still wrapped around me, trying to make the room look neat before anyone saw—

The door swung open before I could reach it.

Brenda stood there, holding a neat pile of folded clothes in her arms. Her blue hair shimmered in the sunlight, messy and perfect at the same time. She smiled.

“Morning. Sorry—did I wake you up?”

“I—” I started stammering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake up on time, I didn’t—”

She blinked, then placed the clothes gently on the bed. “What happened to you?”

I froze.

“Why are you apologizing for waking up late? In fact,” she continued, hands on her hips, “last night you kept saying sorry for everything. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Her tone was firm, but not unkind. Then she softened again, picking up one of the shirts she’d brought. “Well, I just brought you some of my clothes. Hope they fit.”

I stared at her, confusion tangling with the fragile relief I felt. “Why… why would you give me your clothes?”

Brenda smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Because the Alpha asked me to. And because I wanted to.” She winked. “Sharing is caring, right?”

I didn’t know what to say. My chest tightened again, a strange, fragile ache. No one had ever given me anything.

She picked up the small plastic bag on the chair — my old clothes, torn and bloodstained. “He also said I should take these and burn them.”

My throat went dry. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

Brenda looked at me for a long moment, then tilted her head. “You’re a quiet girl, huh?”

I nodded slightly.

“I don’t like quiet people,” she said playfully, crossing her arms but smiling again. “So… what’s your name?”

The question hit me like a punch I didn’t expect. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I swallowed hard. “I… I don’t have a name.”

Her eyes widened a little. “You don’t—what?”

I shrugged weakly. “No one ever gave me one.”

Brenda’s expression softened again. Then she put a finger to her chin, thinking deeply. “Hmm… Well, we can’t have that, can we? Let’s fix it.”

She paced a little, muttering to herself. “Okay… what about Lira? Or Sera? Maybe Kaia? Hmm… or Nora? Oh! I like Janayah too.”

She turned back to me, eyes glimmering. “So? Which one do you like?”

I hesitated, feeling something tight coil in my chest. “I… I don’t know. You can pick for me.”

Brenda smiled, like she’d been waiting for that answer. “Then Janayah it is.”

The name fell into the room like a drop of sunlight. For a moment, it felt strange — unfamiliar, but soft. It didn’t hurt to hear it.

She stepped closer, grinning. “Nice to meet you, Janahah. Welcome to the Blue Moon Pack.”

The word “welcome” twisted something inside me. My lips parted, and I barely managed a whisper. “Thank you… Brenda.”

Her grin widened. Then, to my surprise, she pulled me into a hug — quick and warm. I froze again, arms stiff at my sides, because no one had ever hugged me like that before. But she didn’t seem to mind.

When she pulled away, she said, “Alright. These rooms don’t have bathrooms inside. We all use the one outside — fourth white door down the hall. Go take a shower, get dressed, and come upstairs for breakfast. You’ll meet the rest of the pack there.”

I nodded, still a little stunned.

Brenda gave me a final smile and turned to leave. Her blue hair shimmered as she stepped into the hall, and when the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again.

“Janayah,” I whispered to myself.

It didn’t sound wrong. It didn’t sound borrowed. It sounded like… me.

When the door clicked shut, silence filled the room again. It pressed against me, soft and strange. I stood there for a moment, staring at the space Brenda had just left — her scent still hung in the air, sweet and calm, like something alive.

Then my gaze shifted back to the folded clothes on the bed. A soft cream blouse, simple pants, and a towel. My fingers brushed over them, trembling. They were clean. Warm. New.

Mine.

I whispered the name under my breath again, tasting it like a forbidden thing.

“Janayah.”

It felt foreign. But it didn’t hurt.

It didn’t sting the way every name ever thrown at me had.

I grabbed the towel and stepped out quietly, following Brenda’s directions down the hall. The air was cool and still, sunlight spilling through the narrow windows in pale ribbons. My bare feet padded softly against the floorboards.

When I reached the fourth white door, I hesitated. The handle was cold beneath my fingers. For a moment, I just stood there — afraid that if I opened it, I’d wake up back in that dark, filthy corner at the Blood Moon pack, and all of this would vanish like a dream.

But I turned the handle.

The bathroom was simple — stone walls, a narrow window, and a small wooden shelf lined with soaps and folded towels. Steam rose faintly from the tub, already filled with warm water. Brenda must have done it.

My throat tightened again.

I set the towel down, then slowly slipped out of Mace’s coat, careful like I was handling something sacred. His scent — sharp, dark, something wild and cold — wrapped around me one last time before fading into the air.

For a second, I almost missed it.

When I stepped into the tub, the heat hit me all at once. It seeped into my skin, melting away the grime, the bruises, the ghosts of hands that once hurt me. I sank deeper until the water reached my shoulders.

The mirror on the opposite wall caught my reflection — pale, gaunt, the dark circles under my eyes lighter than before. I stared at myself for a long time.

Then something happened.

The faintest shimmer passed beneath my skin, like gold dust threading through my veins. My wolf stirred. I could feel her — that quiet warmth in the back of my mind, breathing with me.

“You’re safe now,” her voice whispered.

A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.

Safe. I didn’t even know what that word truly meant. But I wanted to believe it. I wanted to hold it and never let go.

Tears fell into the water, mixing with the ripples, and I didn’t bother to stop them. For the first time, I wasn’t crying because of pain.

I was crying because something inside me — something that had been dead for so long — was finally waking up.

When I finished, I dried myself carefully and put on the clothes Brenda had given me. They were a little loose, but they felt soft, clean. They smelled faintly of honey.

Before I left, I glanced at the mirror again.

I looked… different. Not beautiful, not yet. But alive.

I picked up Mace’s coat and folded it neatly over my arm, though part of me wanted to keep it close — to breathe in that cold, wild scent that somehow made me feel grounded.

When I stepped back into the hallway, sunlight hit my face. My wolf hummed quietly in my mind, low and steady.

“Janayah,” she said softly.

And for the first time in my life, it didn’t feel like I was alone inside my own head.