The grand hall of Ironfang Keep was nothing short of a dark marvel.
Torchlight flickered off stone-carved walls, casting dancing shadows across velvet-draped columns and iron banners etched with ancient glyphs. The air was thick with incense and whispers, the scent of power heavy and intoxicating. And at the center of it all stood Fenris.
His presence was unyielding — a shadow among shadows, standing tall at the far end of the hall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his silver eyes locked on Seraphina as if daring her to speak.
She didn't. Not yet.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she stepped forward, heart pounding like war drums. Her gown brushed against the black marble floor, the soft swish sounding louder than it should in the tense silence.
"I want answers," she said finally, her voice carrying strength she didn't quite feel. "Why did you protect me in the woods? Why bring me here like some honored guest instead of—what? A threat?"
Fenris didn't move, but his gaze burned. "Because killing you would be easy. But keeping you alive… that's far more interesting."
Her jaw clenched. "You think I'm a game?"
"No," he said smoothly. "But you're part of one. Whether you know it or not."
Seraphina's spine stiffened. She hated how calm he was, how every word rolled off his tongue like silk hiding blades. She wanted to tear that smug, mysterious look off his face — and yet some traitorous part of her wanted to unravel what lay behind it.
"You're hiding something," she muttered.
He finally moved, descending the stone dais step by step until he stood directly before her — too close, too still.
"So are you," he whispered.
A shiver chased down her spine. She told herself it was from the chill of the hall. Not the way his voice brushed against her skin like velvet soaked in danger.
"Why not just throw me into the dungeons?" she asked, lifting her chin. "You're Alpha, aren't you? That's what Alphas do."
Fenris tilted his head. "Maybe you're not the only one who hates that title."
Silence pulsed between them. And then he stepped back.
"You'll stay here, in the eastern tower," he said, voice clipped. "You're under my protection. But if you try to run again…" his eyes darkened, "the woods won't be so kind."
"Is that a threat?" she challenged.
"A warning," he replied. "And a promise."
Seraphina scowled, but before she could fire back, the large doors creaked open behind her. A woman — tall, robed in silver — stepped in, her face sharp as a hawk's.
"My lord," she said, bowing slightly to Fenris. "The council awaits."
He didn't look away from Seraphina. "Show her to her chambers. Guarded."
Seraphina's nostrils flared. "I'm not a prisoner."
"No," Fenris said. "You're something far more dangerous."
She stared at him, her pulse racing — not from fear, but fury.
Or so she told herself.
Her room was nothing like she expected.
No chains. No stone floors. Instead, it was lavish — silken sheets, carved furniture, a balcony overlooking the mist-draped mountains.
But comfort couldn't hide the tension coiling in her chest.
Why her? Why bring her here and dress it up in velvet and threats?
She paced the room until the moon rose high, then slipped out onto the balcony, staring at the stars like they held answers.
But she wasn't alone.
Fenris stood below in the courtyard, head tilted toward the sky, silver hair shining under the moonlight. As if he could feel her gaze, he looked up.
Their eyes locked — a thread pulled tight between them, invisible but undeniable.
Seraphina stepped back, heart lurching.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He was her enemy. A mystery. A threat.
So why did she feel like she was already falling into something she couldn't control?
Something bound by blood… and fate.