Chapter 6

The three lug-heads continue to carry me through a narrow, dark hallway, filled with cells just like the one I was in. Except all the rest of them are empty... I'm guessing they don't really keep prisoners for long...

"Where are you taking me?!" I scream at them as I continue to fight them but I'm afraid to say I've been weakened by the silver, so I am unfortunately not at my full strength.

They carry me towards a staircase, ignoring all my commotion. Finally, we reach the top of the steps and the blonde man opens the door right at the top of the staircase. Light floods into the tunnel, momentarily blinding me and making me squint my eyes at the sensitivity.

I then feel them finally let me go, my feet hitting solid ground, wrenching my arm from their grip and ignoring the soreness that ripples through my shoulders from being dragged.

Finally, I adjust to the lighting and see that we are in the forest and it appears to be the afternoon, just like I had predicted.

"Don't try anything stupid. You'll be too slow to run anyways so straighten up," I hear the voice of the bald man say just as he shoves me forward, the two of them walking on either side of me, keeping a watching eye while one of them remains behind me.

Realising they're probably right, I lift my chin and exhale frustratedly to myself, having no choice but to walk forward.

Eventually, we reach our destination and it appears to be a large structure, a large house with wide open windows, black and dark grey stones and white accents... the Packhouse.

I've never seen anything this extravagant for a Packhouse, not even back home...

As we enter the house, I do my best to ignore the curious eyes of the pack wolves gathered around us. They're all watching me—strangers with wary eyes, their gazes sharp and judgmental as I walk past. I catch the whispers as they look me up and down, their murmurs barely concealed. "Is she a rogue? How is she still alive..." someone asks under their breath.

Others mutter things I can't make out, but I don't need to hear it all. The disdain on their faces is loud enough.

Inside the Packhouse is even more impressive. It is huge, and grand in a way I'd never expect for a place this remote. Stone walls stretch high above us, shadowing the main entryway, the heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron bands that gleam in the daylight. It's built like a fortress—sturdy, solid, unwelcoming. The kind of place meant to keep out unwanted visitors. Unwanted rogues like me...

The three imbeciles march me up the steps, their hands hovering just behind me, as if they're ready to drag me again if I try to resist. But I hold my head high and step inside, ignoring the hostile glances from pack members clustered near the doors. Inside, the walls are lined with dark wood, the air thick with the scent of pine and something sharper, more metallic—the scent of wolves, of territory claimed.

I keep my expression blank, my shoulders squared as I walk down the hallway. There are paintings on the walls—old portraits, landscapes of mountains and forests, all of it tasteful and intimidating, just like this pack. Every glance, every whisper feels like it's meant to remind me that I don't belong here. But I refuse to give them the satisfaction of looking uncomfortable.

Finally, we reach a set of double doors, the wood polished and gleaming in the low light. One of the men knocks, the sound echoing down the hallway, and after a moment, the door swings open. They push me forward, and I stumble slightly before catching myself. I straighten, shooting a glare over my shoulder before stepping inside.

The office is enormous, dominated by a massive oak desk in the centre, the surface clean and uncluttered except for a single stack of papers and a small metal box. Shelves line the walls, packed with books and objects I can't quite make out in the dim light. Behind the desk, a large window overlooks the forest, the trees stretching toward the horizon.

And there, seated in the leather chair.... is Alpha Octavius...

Seeing him in daylight, I am finally able to properly analyse him. He is standing in what I assume is his office, behind a desk with a few papers in hand. As he looks over at me, I feel my hard drop sharply. I hate to admit how intimidating he is.

He stands tall, his authority filling the room to the point where it almost feels suffocating.

His hair is pitch black, absorbing the light, falling just over his forehead in a way that looks loose but somehow controlled. His eyes are a startling, icy blue, so cold they look carved from winter itself, and they hold an intensity that seems to see everything and nothing all at once. His jaw is sharp, set in a way that suggests he's used to being obeyed without question, and there's a calm, deadly restraint in his movements, like he's more predator than man... and in reality, that's exactly what he is.

It's clear he's used to power, to control, and he wears it like a second skin. Too bad for him, he won't be getting any of that from me that easily.

His eyes are dark, cold as they settle on me, his expression curious. He doesn't say anything at first, just watches me with that same piercing gaze, as if he's trying to see straight through me. The silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, but I don't look away. I refuse to be the first to break.

"Kaida..." he finally says, my name rolling off his tongue with a strange mix of authority and disdain just as I prepare myself for whatever it is he wants to say to me...

One of the guards steps forward. "Did you harm her again?" Octavius's question is directed at them, his gaze flicking briefly to the men behind me.

"No but she was being difficult," the copper-skinned one mutters, sounding almost defensive.

Octavius's lips press into a thin line. "Leave us."

The guards exchange a glance, one of them hesitating before they all nod and step back, slipping out the door and closing it behind them. The soft click of the latch echoes in the silence, and suddenly, it's just the two of us.

Alpha and Rogue...