CHAPTER 3: Shadows of The Past

Zaria woke with a start, her chest tight and pulse hammering like a drum. Moonlight spilled across the small cot, illuminating the pale gray walls of the servants’ quarters. The room smelled faintly of damp fabric and wax polish, but beneath that, there was something else—something faint and metallic. She froze, her hand instinctively rising to the crescent-shaped mark on her neck.

It throbbed. Warm. Alive. Unyielding.

She pressed her fingers against it, flinching as a shiver raced down her spine. The mark pulsed in rhythm with her own heartbeat, a constant reminder that she wasn’t just Zaria Blackwood anymore. She wasn’t just a girl wronged by the world. She was tethered to Lucien Wolfe, whether she wanted to be or not.

This is wrong, she thought, her stomach twisting. I hate him. I should run. I should leave.

And yet, the pull of the bond was undeniable. Even now, in the cold silence of her room, she could feel it tugging at her. It whispered faintly, coaxing her forward. A thread of instinct she couldn’t explain drew her to the East Wing, to the locked corridors, to the secrets she’d been warned not to touch.

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By mid-morning, she had dressed and forced herself to act as if nothing had changed. The uniform felt tight across her shoulders, heavy with dampness from the previous night’s rain, but she ignored it. Her senses were sharper than usual. Every creak of the wooden floorboards, every faint murmur from the kitchen staff, even the subtle shift in the wind through the tall windows reached her awareness.

The bond hummed beneath her skin as she moved down the corridors. She caught herself noticing the faint scent of Lucien’s cologne lingering in the hallways, long after he had passed. Her stomach churned with anger and something else—something she didn’t yet have words for.

As she passed a long, locked corridor near the East Wing, movement caught the corner of her eye. A shadow slipped between two tall, dusty curtains. Zaria froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

No. I can’t…

But the instinct was stronger than her fear. She pressed herself against the wall, eyes wide, and followed the shadow with her gaze. It vanished before she could reach it, leaving only silence and the faint echo of her own breathing.

The East Wing wasn’t supposed to be touched. Not by her, not by anyone. Yet something about it called to her, whispered her name, dared her to uncover what had been hidden for centuries.

⸻

By noon, Zaria found herself standing once more before the black double-door that held the glowing cabinet. Her fingers hovered above the keyhole, heart hammering. Every warning, every fearful thought, every logical argument in her mind told her to step away. But the bond—impossible to ignore—tugged her forward.

She slipped the hairpin from her bun and carefully worked it into the lock. The door groaned as it opened, revealing the dimly lit East Wing beyond. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that filtered through high windows, painting streaks of gold across the floor. Old furniture lay shrouded beneath gray sheets. The air smelled faintly of earth and iron, thick and heavy.

Something moved in the shadows, just beyond the light.

“Who’s there?” Zaria whispered, stepping inside.

No response. Only the creak of the floorboards beneath her shoes. She felt her pulse in her ears, loud and insistent. And then she saw it—the glowing cabinet, faint light radiating from the intricate symbols carved into its wood.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, she approached it. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the carved symbols. Heat radiated through her fingertips, and a low hum filled the room.

The bond is reacting, she thought, awe mingling with fear. It’s responding to me.

⸻

Her mind raced. What was this cabinet? What secrets had Lucien kept hidden here? She hesitated, breathing shallow, torn between curiosity and terror. Every instinct screamed to stop—but another, stronger, almost primal instinct, urged her to reach inside.

She pulled open one of the drawers and gasped. Ancient journals lay stacked neatly inside, their leather covers worn with age. Artifacts—strange, metallic objects etched with unfamiliar symbols—sat beside them. A small vial glowed faintly, emitting a soft hum that vibrated through her fingertips.

Zaria picked up a journal, feeling the weight of its history in her hands. She flipped it open, the yellowed pages brittle but intact. Scribbled entries in neat, looping handwriting filled the pages, chronicling the Wolfe family’s secrets: pacts, curses, and powers that spanned generations.

Her eyes widened. Lucien’s power wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just his strength or speed. It was something older. Something dangerous. Something… supernatural.

The bond pulsed in response to the journal, and Zaria felt a shiver run through her body. It was as if the estate itself recognized her, acknowledged her presence, and welcomed her into a history she had never wanted to inherit.

⸻

Suddenly, a movement behind her made her spin around. Lucien was standing in the doorway, his golden eyes blazing like molten metal.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low, rough, almost a growl. His presence filled the room, pressing against her chest like a physical weight.

“I—I had to know,” Zaria stammered. “I had to see what’s in here.”

“You have no idea what you’re touching,” he said, stepping closer. The bond pulsed violently beneath her skin, reacting to his nearness.

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need to understand—your power, this estate, why my father… why me.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his temple. His hand shot out, catching her wrist just as she reached for another artifact. A jolt of electricity surged through her, and she gasped, staggering back.

“You don’t know the consequences of this,” he hissed, eyes flaring with anger and something darker, almost fear. “The bond isn’t just a connection—it’s a tether. One wrong move, and everything changes.”

Zaria felt the bond pulling her toward him, stronger than ever. Her mark burned, responding to the surge of energy. She realized with dawning terror that she had triggered something irreversible.

The artifact she had touched began to glow brighter, humming with a resonance that vibrated through the floorboards and walls. Symbols on the cabinet shifted, faintly glowing in response to her presence.

Lucien’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost… vulnerable.

“You—don’t—understand,” he said, voice breaking slightly, his control slipping. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to—”

The hum of the artifact swelled, filling the room with a low, vibrating energy. The bond reacted violently, glowing through Zaria’s skin, searing her senses. She cried out, both in fear and awe, as her body trembled.

Something ancient stirred within the cabinet, something recognizing her. Something alive.

Lucien’s face hardened, his eyes flaring gold, but there was a flicker of something unreadable—anger, fear, and perhaps… admiration.

“You’ve done it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’ve awakened it. And now…” His gaze locked on hers. “…there’s no turning back.”

⸻

That night, Zaria couldn’t sleep. The mark pulsed relentlessly, whispering in a language she almost understood but couldn’t speak. Images flashed in her mind: golden eyes watching from dark corridors, her father kneeling in a candlelit room, and a shadowy figure moving silently through the East Wing.

The journals she had touched haunted her dreams, their words seared into her memory. Curses, pacts, and bonds intertwined with her father’s fate and her own. She realized that her life had been part of something far larger than she could have imagined.

By dawn, she was certain of one thing: she could never leave Vane Estate—not now, not ever. The bond, the mark, and the East Wing’s secrets had claimed her. And Lucien Wolfe… he wasn’t just a danger to her. He was part of her destiny.

⸻

💬 AUTHOR’S NOTE – CHAPTER THREE

🔥 Did your heart just stop when Zaria touched the artifact?!

The East Wing is alive, the bond is stronger, and secrets from Lucien’s past are finally surfacing. 👀

What do you think the journals reveal?

👉 Ancient curses?

👉 Family secrets?

👉 Something far worse?

Drop your guesses in the comments ⬇️

💖 Comment “Queen Zaria” if you’re ready to ride with her no matter what.

💀 Comment “Alpha Trash” if you’re ready to drag Lucien to hell and back.

✨ Don’t forget:

✅ Add to library ⭐

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✅ Comment 💬 so I know you’re loving it!

Chapter Four is coming, and trust me… the shadows of the past are only beginning to bite. 😈