THE SHADOW IN THE HALL

Eltonia woke before dawn.

She had not slept. Her small room in the Omega quarters, usually a safe, quiet haven, had felt like a cell. Lyra’s words about being a "mouse" and Holly’s sneer about "kennels" had echoed in her head all night.

But worse than the insults was the silence.

The Alpha had not summoned her.

After Holly had thrown her out, Eltonia had waited, expecting a bell or a page to call her back. Nothing. He had faced the rest of his night, the pain of his migraine, and the fallout of the disastrous dinner... alone.

She had failed him.

Now, in the cold, blue light of morning, she was already at work. Her hands were already moving on autopilot. She was in the Alpha’s study, a place she was normally forbidden to be at this hour. But she knew he wouldn't be here. He'd be in the training yards, running off the anger of the previous night.

She used the quiet to restore order. She dusted the heavy bookshelves. She collected the mug Holly had stolen. It was cold, the tea untouched.

She was just finishing, polishing the dark wood of his desk, when she heard the whisper of the door.

Her head snapped up as her heart leapt into her throat.

Alpha Oreon stood in the doorway against the brighter hall. He was not in the training yards. He was still in yesterday’s black tunic, his hair was loose, and he looked... terrible.

His face was pale, drawn tight with pain. Dark circles, like bruises, pooled under his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a year.

He just stared at her, his eyes unblinking.

"I... Alpha," Eltonia stammered as she dropped into a low curtsy with her rag still in her hand. "My apologies. I did not know you were... I was just tidying. I will leave."

"Eltonia."

His voice was a low rasp. It stopped her one foot that was already moving toward the door.

She turned back slowly. He hadn't moved.

"You were dismissed," he said flatly.

It was a statement, not an accusation. But it still stung like a fresh slap of shame.

"Yes, Alpha," she whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I... I heard Lady Melissa was leaving this morning. I thought the room should be... ready. For your work."

He took a step into the room, and the scent of sandalwood, now mixed with the sour smell of exhaustion, hit her. He rubbed the back of his neck, the way he normally did to gesture his pain.

"She is gone," he confirmed. "Abram saw to it."

"That is good," Eltonia felt a tiny bit of relief easing the tightness in her chest.

"He has found a replacement," Oreon continued. "She arrives before noon."

The relief vanished instantly. "So... so soon?"

"He calls it 'accelerating the schedule.'" Oreon walked, almost staggered, to his high-backed chair and dropped into it. He didn't even bother to light the fire. He just sat in the cold and the dark, and closed his eyes.

He looked defeated.

Eltonia’s heart, the stupid, traitorous thing, broke for him. Duty, loyalty, and a deep, aching need to help him overrode everything else. It overrode Holly's threats. It overrode his own dismissal.

"Alpha," she said, quietly but firmly.

He opened his eyes, a little bit surprised.

"You are in pain," she stated. It wasn't a question. "Your migraine. It is still there."

He didn't deny it. He just watched her, his jaw tight.

"Lady Holly was... wrong," Eltonia said. Her own voice was shaking, but she pushed on. "I am not a dog from the kennels. I am your attendant. And my duty is to... to attend."

She took two small, brave steps toward him, her hands clasped. "Please, Alpha. Let me help. You cannot face... another one... like this."

Oreon stared at her. He saw the tremor in her hands. He saw the brave fear in her eyes. This was not the silent mouse from last night. This was... something else.

This was the girl he had pulled from the fire.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them. The only sound was the ticking of the grand clock in the hall.

Finally, he let out a long breath that sounded like a surrender.

"Just... for a moment," he grated. "Before the next... performance begins."

Eltonia’s shoulders sagged in relief. She moved quickly to fetch the small tin of balm from his desk drawer, the one she'd made herself from arnica and mint. She didn't light the lamps. She just stood behind his chair, the room still cloaked in the cold morning shadows.

As she uncapped the tin, the sharp scent cut through the staleness.

"I will be gentle, Alpha," she murmured.

She dipped her fingers into the balm and, with a deep breath, placed her hands on his shoulders.

He was a rock. A solid rock of stone and discomfort. Her thumbs found the puckered scar tissue at the base of his neck, the source of all his pain.

He hissed in a sharp breath as she made contact, his entire body tensing.

"Relax, Alpha," she whispered in the familiar, soothing cadence of their nightly ritual. "Just... breathe."

She began to work as her small, strong hands kneaded the iron-hard muscle. She felt the moment he gave in. A low groan, half-pain, half-relief, rumbled deep in his chest. The sound vibrated through her palms, up her arms, and settled deep in her stomach, making her blush in the darkness.

This was different.

This was not their usual, end-of-day massage. This was... more. It was desperate. He was relying on her, his head dropping forward, giving her access, trusting her. She was in his study, unsummoned, touching her Alpha in the dark morning light.

She could feel the heat of his skin, the fine hairs at his nape. Her heart was beating stupidly against her ribs.

"You are..." he mumbled, "the only one... who does not lie."

Eltonia’s hands stilled. "Alpha?"

"Holly," he said, as if the name was a bad taste. "Abram. Melissa. They all... want. They want the title. The power. The lands."

He shifted in his chair, and her hands dropped, startled. But he just reached back, his own large, calloused hand closing over her small wrist. His skin was fire against hers.

Her breathing paused.

"You," his voice was still muffled, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. "What do you want, Eltonia?"

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was going to explode. He was touching her. Not as an Alpha, not as a master. His hand was on her, and he was asking her a question.

I want you. I want this to be real. I want you to see me.

"I... I want you to be well, Alpha," she finally whispered the honest, stupid truth. "I want... your pain to stop."

His grip on her wrist tightened, just for a second. He was about to speak. He turned his head so his dark and tired eyes found hers in the gloom—

A sharp rap-rap-rap came from the door.

Oreon released her wrist as if he'd been burned. Eltonia snatched her hand back, her skin tingling and her entire body hot with a blush.

"Alpha! Alpha Oreon!" It was a young Beta guard who sounded panicked. "Lord Abram sent me! The new candidate... she's here! She's in the foyer!"

Oreon was on his feet in an instant. His Alpha aura had returned to its place. The vulnerable man from the shadows was gone. In his place was the leader.

"I will be down," he commanded.

He looked at Eltonia. She was still standing there, her hand holding her chest, her face pale.

"Eltonia," he said curtly. "Come. You are my attendant."

He strode out of the room. He wasn't asking. He was telling. He was taking her with him which was a clear message to Holly, to Abram... to everyone.

She hurried after him even as her heart felt a confusing terror and a soaring pride.

They reached the grand foyer. Abram was standing by the main doors, looking politely frustrated. Holly was there, too, standing near the fireplace with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

But the foyer was empty.

"Where is she, Abram?" Oreon’s voice bounced off the stone. "You said she was here."

"She is, Alpha," Abram’s smile looked strained. "She is... not like the other one."

Abram gestured, not to the front door, but to the shadowed archway that led to the library.

Eltonia looked. At first, she saw nothing. Just shadows.

Then, a piece of the shadow moved.

A woman stepped forward. Or rather, she floated, making no sound on the stone floor.

She was the exact opposite of Melissa. Where Melissa was loud color, this woman was a void. She was small, slender, and wrapped in a simple, dark-grey dress. Her hair was the color of a raven's wing, pulled back in a tight braid. Her skin was pale as milk.

She stopped ten feet from Oreon, her hands clasped in front of her. She didn't look up. She just sank into a deep, flawless curtsy.

"Lady Radinah, of the Shadow Creek Pack," Abram announced into the silence.

Radinah rose slowly, moving fluidly, and finally lifted her head.

Her eyes.

They were huge, the color of night, and they held an unsettling stillness. She didn't look at Oreon. She didn't look at Abram, or the furious Holly.

Her gaze swept past them all and landed... directly... on Eltonia.

Her eyes flicked down, just for a second, to Eltonia's hands, the hands that still smelled faintly of arnica balm and the Alpha's skin.

And then, a tiny, slow smile, a smile that held no warmth, no humor, and no life, touched the corner of Lady Radinah's lips.

Eltonia felt a chill so profound, it went straight to her bones.

Lyra was wrong. This woman wasn't a viper.

She was a spider. And she had just arrived in the center of the web.