Chapter 6: Whispers of Rebellion

Clara's POV

The Shadowclaw territory is nothing like what I expected. Instead of caves or rustic cabins in the woods, Kael leads me through a gated community that screams wealth and privacy. Massive houses sit on perfectly manicured lots, separated by tall hedges and iron fences. It looks like any upscale neighborhood, except for the subtle wrongness I can't quite name.

Maybe it's the way everyone we pass stops what they're doing to stare. Or how their eyes seem to glow in the early morning light. Or the fact that even from inside Kael's SUV, I can feel their hostility like a physical weight.

"This is where your pack lives?" I ask, pressing closer to the window as we drive past a Tudor mansion with rose bushes that look too perfect to be real.

"Part of it." Kael's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "The main territory covers about fifty square miles, but the residential area is concentrated here. Easier to maintain our cover this way."

Cover. Right. Because they're not just wealthy neighbors, they're predators masquerading as human.

We pull into the circular driveway of a house that puts the others to shame. Three stories of gray stone and gleaming windows, with ivy climbing the walls and a front door that looks like it belongs on a castle. Money can't buy taste, but apparently it can buy intimidation.

"Kael, I can't stay here. I have work, patients…"

"Your clinic will be fine for a few days." He turns off the engine and looks at me with those silver eyes that see too much. "Until we figure out what the Bloodfangs want with you, this is the safest place for you to be."

Safe. The word feels hollow when everyone here looks at me like I'm diseased.

Inside, the house is even more impressive. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, artwork that probably costs more than I make in a year. It's beautiful and cold and completely foreign to everything I know.

"The guest wing is upstairs," Kael says, leading me toward a sweeping staircase. "You'll have privacy there. My room is in the east wing if you need anything."

His room. Not our room. The distance in his words stings more than it should. Last night felt like a beginning, but apparently morning brings reality checks.

"Will I see you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, making me sound needy and pathetic.

Something flickers in his eyes… regret, or longing. "I have pack business to attend to. Damon will check on you, make sure you have everything you need."

Pack business. Code for 'dealing with the human problem I've created,' I'm sure.

He shows me to a guest room that's bigger than my entire apartment, complete with a sitting area and a bathroom that belongs in a magazine. Everything is tasteful and expensive and utterly impersonal.

"Rest," he says from the doorway. "We'll talk later."

Then he's gone, leaving me alone in this beautiful prison.

I try to sleep, but my mind won't stop racing. Every sound in the house makes me jump…footsteps in the hallway, doors closing, muffled voices from downstairs. I feel like an intruder, as if I don't belong here.

Because I don't.

By noon, hunger drives me from the room. The guest wing has a small kitchenette, but it's bare except for a coffee maker and some generic snacks. If I want real food, I'll have to venture into the main part of the house.

The kitchen is on the first floor, a massive space with granite countertops and professional-grade appliances. I'm digging through the refrigerator, trying to find something that doesn't require a culinary degree to prepare, when I hear voices from the adjoining dining room.

"...complete disaster," a woman is saying. Her voice is cultured, refined, and dripping with disdain. "Bringing a human here, of all things."

I freeze, a carton of eggs halfway to the counter.

"Helena's right," a man agrees. "What was he thinking? The girl doesn't belong in our world."

"She's weak," another woman adds. "I can smell it on her… fear, confusion. She'll never survive what's coming."

"Assuming she lives long enough to try," the first woman, Helenasays with a bitter laugh. "Three of his previous... attempts... didn't fare so well."

Previous attempts. My blood runs cold. Kael had other women? Other humans who tried to be part of this world?

"The curse will kill her just like it killed the others," the man says matter-of-factly. "Mark my words, we'll be planning another funeral within the month."

"If we're lucky," Helena replies. "If we're not, she'll linger like the last one did. Wasting away slowly while Kael tears himself apart watching."

I sink against the refrigerator, the eggs forgotten. They're talking about me dying like it's a certainty. As if I'm already dead and just haven't figured it out yet.

"The pack is losing faith in his leadership," another voice joins in, older, male, with authority that commands attention. "This human obsession makes him look weak. Desperate."

"Elder Thorne is right," Helena says. "How can we follow an Alpha who puts his personal desires above the pack's welfare? She's a liability, a distraction we can't afford."

"Something needs to be done," the elder Thorne continues. "Before she destroys everything we've built."

"What are you suggesting?" the younger man asks.

"I'm suggesting the problem might solve itself," Thorne replies coolly. "Humans are so... fragile. Accidents happen."

The casual way he says it, like discussing the weather, makes my stomach lurch. They're talking about killing me. Not in anger or passion, but as a practical solution to an inconvenient problem.

I back away from the voices, abandoning any thought of food. My hands shake as I make my way back toward the guest wing, their words echoing in my head.

Weak. Liability. Won't survive.

The girl doesn't belong in our world.

They're right, of course. I'm a human doctor from the city who drives a Honda and shops at Target. What am I doing in a mansion full of werewolves who see me as a disease to be cured?

But it's not just that I don't belong, it's that they actively want me gone. Possibly dead. And from the sound of it, they're not planning to wait for the mysterious curse to do their work for them.

I lock the guest room door and sink onto the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees. The bond with Kael pulses steadily in my chest, a reminder of what drew me into this world in the first place. I wonder if that connection is worth dying for.

Because according to his pack, that's exactly what's going to happen.

My only curiosity is whether the curse kills me first, or if they decide to speed up the process.

Either way, it seems my days are numbered.