Chapter 5

BLACKWOOD PACK

Hazel's POV

The room felt too still. Too silent. My fingers brushed the cold surface of the dresser as the air behind me shifted—soft, subtle, but enough to send every nerve in my body on alert.

Then came the whisper.

A voice so close it made my heartbeat stumble.

"My lady..."

I spun around so fast the towel clutched at my chest slipped. My pulse hammered, a wild rhythm against my ribs.

She stood there—no footsteps, no warning—just there.

A young woman in her late twenties, impossibly beautiful, her presence flowing into the room like she belonged to the shadows themselves.

I scanned the floors for broken glass, splintered wood, anything to explain the sound I heard earlier. Nothing. Not a single displaced object.

So how had she appeared behind me?

Fear crawled up my spine, cold and deliberate.

What was the sound I heard?

"Anything the problem, my lady?" she asked, offering a soft smile that somehow tightened the tension instead of easing it.

Her dark hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the light as if it had a life of its own. Her emerald gown clung elegantly to her waist, long sleeves embroidered with delicate threads that glimmered faintly—like they were woven with moonlight rather than fabric.

I couldn't look away.

She felt... ancient. Not in appearance, but in aura. Older than the body she wore.

For a moment, I simply stared. And then fear crashed over me. There was no one else in the room when I turned—how had she appeared behind me?

"Yeah, I—I thought I heard something..." I said, trying to sound calm and unbothered by her presence, but deep inside, something in her aura kept scraping against mine.

I shouldn't feel her aura; my wolf, weak as she was, somehow still did.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, eyes locked on hers. She didn't blink. Not even once.

"I was sent to dress you..."

I froze.

That was her duty, sure—but why now? After the humiliation? The degradation, being tossed aside like I meant nothing.

How could someone now... care? Why would they?

I hesitated; my gaze flicked to the clothes she had laid out neatly on the vanity. My mind spun with suspicion, but a small, exhausted part of me wanted relief. Not because of anything but her scent... it wasn't sharp and cloying like the dungeon Omegas'. It was softer. Clean. Strange.

Maybe I could let my guard down—just a little.

I sat down as she brushed my hair with deliberate grace, lifting the brush and letting it glide through my tangled hair.

Every stroke sent shivers down my spine. Not from comfort, but from unease. There was something in her presence—strong, sharp, almost electric.

Yet, she still reminded me of Elena. Oh, I've longed to see her; she was the only one that'd make me feel at ease with myself when everything seemed heavy.

And somehow I saw Elena in Lyrielle, as I later learned her name. I glanced up at her through the mirror. Her expression was serene and unreadable. Yet her gaze caught mine and held it, probing, assessing.

Goosebumps prickled my arms as I shivered, not from cold but from the intensity radiating off her.

"The last Luna was so fragile," she said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was almost melodic, smooth, certain.

"You're strong."

My throat tightened, unsure of what to say. Fragile? What did she mean? I knew that Sylus once had a fated mate, but rumors had it she fled from Sylus' torment, and since then, no she-wolf from any pack wanted to mate with him—even if she was his second-chance mate.

But Lyrielle's tone hinted at something darker.

"What happened to her?" The curiosity inside made me ask.

I shouldn't have, but was I bound to meet the same fate as her? Sylus wouldn't kill me, would he? The knot of caution in my chest refused to loosen.

"Alpha Sylus was mated to Luna Vixen by the Moon Goddess... but she couldn't live a day without torment from Aria and her mate."

Aria? Here I thought Aria hated me because I was an Omega, but I didn't know the hate was natural. I wasn't the only one she treated this way.

"You must have heard she fled for her life." She continuously lifted the brush, letting it glide through my hair gracefully.

I nodded slowly, my eyes instantly glued to the woman in the mirror behind me.

"But no—she was killed."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

What? My eyes widened in shock, not because the rumor was a lie but because the truth felt haunting.

Why would Sylus kill his own mate? I knew he was cruel and feared across all the packs in Florida—but not this cruel, to kill his own mate.

"Um... why?"

Lyrielle's brush slowed.

"She found out a little secret she shouldn't have." The touch on my hair grew cold and intense.

My breath hitched.

Should I trust Lyrielle? How did she know all this? Well, she's a maid, but no maid casually carried secrets like these.

I glanced at Lyrielle, whose expression was still unreadable. Why was she telling me all this? Should I be scared or feel safe?

I can't trust her. What if she's working for Aria or worse... Nyx?

"What do you mean..."

Suddenly, the maids appeared carrying a tray with simple food—bread, cheese, and water. My stomach growled again, loud and desperate. At some point, I became ashamed, but I couldn't help it.

As I pondered what Lyrielle said, I ate quickly, but I could feel her eyes on me the entire time. Every bite felt like an examination, a measurement of my weakness.

I kept my back straight, shoulders stiff, but my heart hammered with discomfort. Why was she watching me like that?

My mind trailed. Why would Sylus kill his own mate, and what little secret did she find out about him or the pack? I was feeling more disturbed and at the same time worried about who Lyrielle really was.

I was done eating, and the maids carried the tray out. My stomach still ached, my muscles were sore, and yet a quiet tension settled in my chest. Something had shifted here, though I didn't know what.

"I think you should rest, my lady. The night will be long," she said calmly.

Night?

But daylight still streamed faintly through the curtains.

What was she talking about? I watched her step out of the room, elegant, commanding—yet... dangerous.

A presence I couldn't name, a weight I couldn't measure, but one my instincts screamed I should respect and perhaps fear.

---

Later in the evening

As I lay awake in my bed, sleep teased me but never came.

Lyrielle's words wrapped around my mind like vines. Yet, something in me wanted to uncover the truth behind why Sylus had her killed and lied she fled from the pack.

Finally, the quiet atmosphere was broken by a guard at the door—a messenger sent by Sylus.

"Luna, the Alpha sent for you," he said as he turned to leave. The subtle shift in the room made my muscles tense.

My heart lurched.

I wasn't ready to see Sylus—not with this new fear simmering in my gut.

I climbed down from the bed as I followed the guard to Sylus' chamber. To whatever fate awaited me tonight.

We got to his chamber and the guard left.

When I pushed the door open, I froze.

Two naked she-wolves—gigging, moaning—were sprawled across Sylus as they rode him greedily. Their scents of heat and lust choked the air.

Sylus lifted his head the moment the door cracked open.

"You weren't taught how to knock in that shallow pack you came from?"

Anger simmered beneath his voice.

"My offense. I should have known better," I murmured, my eyes dropping instantly.

"You could join us, you know... it'll be so much fun," one of the girls purred, and I recognized her as the heir to the Redmoon Pack.

Pathetic.

I scoffed under my breath.

"That will be another time, ladies." His voice darkened.

Sylus' eyes were filled with lust and a thirst for something... blood?

"Go, leave us."

They grabbed their clothes and scrambled out.

Sylus rose, tying his robe loosely around his waist. He poured himself a drink—relaxed, unbothered.

"My sister must have been a little bit hard on you," he said, sipping his drink.

A little bit??

"But you seem quite fine. Better than I thought."

I finally lifted my eyes to look at him. He smirked, passing me his drink.

"I'm good..."

"I never asked... drink it!"

His voice cracked like a whip. I swallowed hard and took a sip.

"Finish it."

I hesitated before I swallowed the rest. My throat burned. The drink hit me instantly—hot, dizzying, spreading through my veins like wildfire.

Sylus lit a cigarette. Smoke curled through the room, sharp and intoxicating.

"You know—the only way to survive is to be obedient and stick to what you know."

"What do you mean?" I coughed, waving away the smoke.

"You would live if you learn to stay out of trouble and mind your business."

Was it about the slaughter room? The captive and possibly his mate?

Lyrielle's voice instantly clawed back:

"She found out a little secret she shouldn't have."

Or was it about his late Luna? As I gazed at Sylus, trying to solve the puzzle, he crossed the room, closing the distance between us with quiet, predatory steps.

At first, I was caught unawares, but I had to hide the uneasy feeling around me. Sylus' hand touched my face—gentle, deceptively soft.

"Since you interrupted my pleasure earlier..."

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ears.

"I want you to continue from where they stopped."

"What...?" My voice cracked with terror.

"You heard me... please me." His hands roughly caressed my arms.

I stepped back, but he grabbed me and tossed me onto the bed so violently my head slammed against the bedstand. Warm blood trickled down my skin.

Pain flared bright and blinding.

Sylus let out a mocking sound. His robe hit the floor, revealing his strong, brutal physique—built for dominance, power, war.

His hands trailed my thighs, caressing every inch. His lips followed, sucking, licking, claiming every inch of my body.

I shouldn't have felt aroused. I shouldn't have felt anything. I shouldn't have reacted.

But here I was, begging him not to stop... my body betrayed me.

I was in my heat.

And the heat didn't care about pain. Or fear. Or pride. It just wanted to be satisfied.

I shouldn't let Sylus have his way with me as he did before, but I couldn't help but give in to his pleasure.

His thrusts felt desperate, hard, and painful, but my body still found a way to suppress the pain that washed across my body.

"You want this, right?" His voice was a dark growl.

No.

No, I didn't.

I wanted to scream, to shove him away, to run.

But my voice failed me.

My body shook, and I nodded.

"The night would be long..."

Lyrielle's warning echoed in my mind.

And it was.

He took what he wanted—again and again.

---

2 weeks later

Two weeks crawled by like wounded beasts, dragging their weight across my bones.

Every morning, I woke with a dull ache behind my eyes and a throbbing heaviness in my belly that refused to fade.

Some days it felt like my body wasn’t mine — like something inside me was shifting, growing, rearranging my very core. Other days I felt sick the moment I woke, the metallic taste of bile coating my tongue.

I told no one.

Because in the Blackwood Pack, weakness was blood in the water… and I was already drowning.

The castle was colder these days. The stone halls always felt cruel, but now the chill sank deeper, settling beneath my skin. Every sound echoed — footsteps, creaking doors, distant howls from wolves patrolling the borders. Everything felt sharper.

And yet, somehow, I felt softer. Fragile. Exposed.

I hated it.

My thoughts kept drifting back to the night Sylus had taken me — the violence, the desperation, the way my body betrayed me under the force of my heat.

Some nights I woke shaking, my skin burning with the memory of being pinned, claimed, used. And still… part of me feared that night wasn’t done with me.

That something from it had stayed.

I was lost in that spiral when Lyrielle slipped silently into my room, her presence unsettling and graceful as always. She moved like shadows bowed to her — quiet, fluid, unannounced.

“My lady…” Her voice was soft as she approached.

I sat at the edge of the bed, pressing my palm to my stomach as another wave of nausea hit me.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, brows knitting in concern. She knelt beside me and placed two fingers gently against the back of my hand.

The moment her skin brushed mine, her eyes widened — just barely — but enough to make my breath hitch. I pulled away immediately, avoiding both her gaze and her touch.

Her eyes lifted to mine anyway, probing, searching, calculating.

A chill crawled up my spine.

“You… feel warm,” she murmured.

“It’s nothing,” I muttered, pulling my hand back. “Just tired.”

But Lyrielle didn’t move. Her gaze flicked to my stomach, then to my face again — unreadable, unnerving.

“You’re carrying a life inside you, my lady,” she said bluntly.

I scoffed softly and stood, striding past her to my dresser. I hadn’t expected that — not even close — but what?

I looked at her through the mirror’s reflection. Calm. Certain. Convincing.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just know.” She walked closer. “Shouldn’t that be a thing of joy?”

I turned, staring at her directly. How sure was she? Why did she sound so confident? I only nodded, though my mind reeled. How would that even be possible? I couldn’t feel my wolf at all.

“You look so pale,” she murmured. “Let me get you something.”

Lyrielle slipped out.

Who in the world is Lyrielle?

A seer? But seers were rare — almost extinct.

A witch? Impossible. She’d be executed the moment anyone found out.

A sudden knock at the door snapped me from my thoughts.

Aria.

Of all the creatures in this gods-forsaken castle, she was the one whose presence made the air curdle. She stormed into my room like she owned every inch of stone beneath our feet.

My eyes narrowed the moment I saw her.

“Shouldn’t you be scrubbing floors somewhere?” Aria hissed.

She crossed her arms, gaze dripping with contempt.

“You look terrible,” she said bluntly. “Guess being Luna doesn’t suit everyone.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest. “Aria, I don’t want trouble.”

“Trouble?” She snorted. “You’re trouble.”

She stepped closer, crowding my space. Her perfume hit me first — sharp, floral, suffocating. Her breath brushed my cheek as she leaned in.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “When Sylus touches you… does he think of her?”

Her?

The first Luna?

The one Lyrielle said never fled?

The air thinned around me.

“You’re insane,” I spat. “Why? Do you want him to think about you instead?”

Aria’s hand snapped around my neck, choking me.

“Oh, you think you’re special because Sylus hasn’t gotten rid of me?”

“Rid of you? Like you did with Vixen?” I snarled, yanking her hand off my throat.

“Talking back, huh?” She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me from the bed. “Come. I’ll teach you a lesson.”

As I stood, my knees trembled. Everything inside me felt wrong — the room spinning, Aria’s voice fading, my heartbeat racing in my ears. A violent wave of dizziness washed over me, consuming everything.

Aria’s smirk faltered.

“Get up!”

But her voice dissolved into a blur as my legs buckled.

The last thing I felt was cold stone rushing up to swallow me.

Then darkness.

---

Later

Voices dragged me back from the void.

My eyelids were heavy. My head throbbed. The scent of herbs and antiseptic filled the air — the pack infirmary. Papers rustled. Someone paced. My ears rang.

Then —

A male voice cleared his throat.

The family doctor.

“Alpha Sylus… there’s something you need to hear.”

“What’s so important that my presence was needed here?” Sylus roared.

Silence.

Cold, volatile silence.

“Speak!”

Even unconscious, my pulse quickened — as if my body sensed the danger before my mind could.

The doctor exhaled shakily.

“Your Luna… she’s—”

His words hovered.

Suspended.

Then they fell:

“She’s pregnant.”

The room froze.

“Is that so?” Sylus said, voice low and lethal.

“Find a way to get rid of that thing. I don’t need an heir to rule after me.”

He stormed out.

Even though my eyes were closed, even though I was suspended in darkness, I felt it — the shift in him.

A storm awakening.