Eve had never been inside a place that felt so alive with silence.
The lodge loomed at the heart of the forest clearing, its towering timbers stacked like the ribs of some ancient beast. Smoke curled from a stone chimney, carrying the sharp bite of burning pine. The night outside pressed heavy, but within these walls, shadows breathed with something more than darkness.
Kaelen's hand clamped around her arm as he led her through the threshold. His grip wasn't cruel, but it wasn't gentle either—it was ownership disguised as restraint, and the thought of that set fire beneath her skin. She wanted to yank free, to scream at him again, to remind him she was not his. But the echo of the bond thrummed through her blood, betraying every protest, tethering her where she stood.
The lodge swallowed her whole. A vaulted ceiling stretched overhead, rafters webbed with old beams blackened by smoke and age. Pelts draped along the walls, antlers mounted like trophies. Firelight danced across stone and fur, casting the room in a molten glow.
And they were there.
Wolves—no, people, though none of them looked ordinary—waited in the flicker of the flames. Men and women with eyes too sharp, movements too fluid, gazes that tracked her every step. They lounged along benches, stood in clusters, leaned against pillars, but in the stillness of their bodies there was tension, coiled like wire.
Eve's pulse quickened. She had walked into a den.
Kaelen's presence at her side filled the room with a weight all its own. The conversations that had hummed low fell to silence, and every eye turned toward them. Toward her.
"She's human," a voice muttered, not low enough to miss.
A ripple moved through the crowd—faint, but unmistakable. Disbelief. Scorn.
Kaelen's gaze snapped to the speaker, and the man fell quiet instantly, bowing his head in submission. But the damage was done. Whispers broke loose in the corners, threading sharp and thin.
Eve forced her chin up, though her legs trembled. She would not shrink beneath their stares. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing fear, even as the animal part of her brain screamed at her to run.
The fire crackled. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the low growl of Kaelen's voice.
"This is Eve."
Her name dropped into the air like a stone into water. The ripples it made were jagged. Some wolves shifted uneasily, some sneered, some narrowed their eyes as though measuring her worth with every breath she took.
A woman near the hearth leaned forward, golden eyes flashing. "The Moon chose her?"
"The Moon doesn't make mistakes," Kaelen said.
But doubt lingered, thick as smoke. Eve felt it pressing against her skin, a weight of judgment she couldn't shake. To them, she wasn't chosen—she was an intrusion. A weakness.
Another voice, sharp with disdain, cut through the room. "A human mate will break us."
Kaelen's snarl was immediate, vibrating the air. "Mind your tongue."
The wolf who had spoken bowed his head, but the mutters didn't stop. They slithered around her, carried in the flick of eyes and the curl of lips. Human. Weak. Prey.
Eve's stomach knotted. She had thought Kaelen himself was danger enough, but here, surrounded by his pack, she understood the truth: she was prey trapped among predators. Every instinct screamed that she didn't belong, that one wrong move would see her torn apart.
And yet, through it all, the bond burned hotter, binding her to the very man who had dragged her here.
Kaelen's hand tightened on her arm. His voice, low and commanding, carried over the restless murmurs. "She is mine."
The lodge fell silent again. But silence did not mean peace. It meant restraint, teeth hidden behind lips. And as Eve stood in the center of the pack's gaze, she knew the truth: she had just stepped into a new cage.
The silence that followed Kaelen's declaration wasn't acceptance. It was the kind of hush that came before a storm, a dangerous stillness that pressed against Eve's ears until she thought she might scream just to shatter it.
Every face in the room seemed cut from stone. Men with shoulders like carved oak, women with eyes that glinted too bright in the firelight—all of them were staring at her. Some with open suspicion, some with a hunger that made her skin crawl, and a very few with something softer, something she might have mistaken for pity if she'd trusted it.
But she trusted nothing here.
Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might bruise her ribs. She tried to breathe evenly, to stand tall, but her body betrayed her—sweat slicking her palms, knees quivering, a tremor that threatened to climb up her spine and expose her terror.
Kaelen still hadn't released her arm. His grip was firm, grounding, infuriating. She could feel the power in his fingers, the heat of his skin, and the strange thrum that pulsed between them like a second heartbeat. That damned bond. She hated it. She hated how it tethered her even when every rational thought screamed to run.
At the far side of the lodge, a tall wolf with scarred cheekbones stood. His eyes, pale and glacial, never left Eve as he spoke.
"She doesn't smell like us," he said. His voice was rough, a low scrape of stone. "She doesn't carry the blood."
"She carries the bond," Kaelen replied without hesitation. His voice was iron, the kind that brooked no challenge. "That is enough."
The scarred wolf's jaw clenched. He bowed his head slightly, but the tension in his shoulders never eased.
Whispers rippled again.
"She'll slow us down."
"She's fragile."
"She's dangerous."
The last word cut deeper than the others. Dangerous. Dangerous for whom? For her? Or for them?
Eve swallowed hard, her mouth dry. She wanted to scream at them that she wasn't some object to be discussed like a piece of defective equipment. She wanted to claw her way back through the door and into the night. But Kaelen's hand tightened, the silent reminder that she wasn't leaving—not yet.
A young woman near the fire rose from her bench. Her hair was black as crow feathers, her eyes molten gold, and her expression unreadable. She stepped closer, circling Eve like a hawk studying prey.
"She's small," the woman murmured, tilting her head. "But her eyes… there's fight in her."
Eve flinched when the woman reached out, fingertips grazing her jaw as if she were inspecting a strange animal.
"Enough," Kaelen growled, and the woman withdrew instantly.
Still, Eve's heart stuttered. Her skin burned where the woman's touch had lingered. She had never in her life felt so stripped bare, so vulnerable, so clearly other.
Another wolf, younger still, spoke from the shadows. "What if the Moon is testing us?" His tone carried awe, not disdain. "What if she gave us a human to teach us humility?"
Laughter broke out at that, sharp and cutting. Eve's stomach dropped.
Humility. As if her existence here were some divine punishment.
Kaelen's growl silenced them again. The sound was primal, low, vibrating the very floor beneath Eve's feet. It was a sound that reminded her—if she'd somehow forgotten—that he was not merely a man.
"Enough," he said again, louder this time, command woven into every syllable. The air seemed to bow beneath the weight of it.
The pack quieted, though the tension didn't vanish. It curled in the corners, in the narrowing of eyes and the way claws tapped against wood.
Kaelen turned, finally facing her fully. For the first time since stepping into the lodge, his grip eased, though he didn't let her go completely. His silver eyes pinned hers, unreadable.
"You wanted truth," he said, voice low but carrying. "This is it. You are mine. And they will accept it—or they will answer to me."
A shiver rippled through the pack at that, but Eve barely heard them. Her chest ached with the weight of his words. You are mine. Again. Always that same brutal claim. She wanted to scream that she belonged to no one, that she would never accept this, but the bond throbbed through her veins, treacherous and undeniable.
"I'm not staying here," she whispered, though her voice shook. "I don't care what you or your… your people think. I'm not—"
"You have no choice." His words cut sharp as glass, not cruel but absolute. "The bond has been set. If you leave, it will tear you apart."
Her breath caught. She wanted to call him a liar, but something deep inside her knew he wasn't. She had already felt it—the ache in her chest when she tried to deny it, the pull in her bones that dragged her toward him.
"Why me?" The question tore from her throat before she could stop it. "Why would your… your Moon Goddess choose me? I don't belong here. I don't belong to you."
Kaelen's eyes softened, barely, but his voice was still edged with steel. "I ask myself the same every day."
The words should have comforted her. Instead, they hollowed her out.
Around them, the pack stirred restlessly. Some averted their eyes, unwilling to challenge their Alpha openly. Others exchanged glances that said more than words ever could—doubt, anger, suspicion.
Finally, the scarred wolf spoke again. "If she is truly yours, prove it. Let us see the bond."
Kaelen's growl was low, dangerous, but the demand hung in the air like baited breath.
Eve's blood ran cold. The bond? What did they mean—what would they make her do?
Kaelen stepped forward, placing himself between her and the pack, his broad shoulders blocking their view. "You will see enough in time. For now, trust my word."
Murmurs rose again. Some voices angry, others resigned.
Eve couldn't stand it—the weight of their stares, the judgment, the whispers. Her chest tightened until she thought she might break apart. She wanted out. She wanted air.
Kaelen's hand shifted from her arm to her back, steadying her. It was a small gesture, but the heat of it seared through her sweater, both comfort and cage.
"You'll stay here tonight," he said quietly, though the words carried for all to hear. "She is under my protection."
The statement silenced the room once more. Protection. Possession. The line blurred too easily.
Eve's throat worked, but no words came. She wanted to argue, to tell him she didn't need protecting, but surrounded by eyes that gleamed with hunger and disdain, she couldn't summon the lie.
Kaelen guided her toward a stairwell at the side of the lodge. Every step was agony, the weight of dozens of gazes burning into her back. She didn't dare look over her shoulder, afraid of what she might see—fangs bared, claws flexing, hatred unmasked.
At the top of the stairs, Kaelen paused. He glanced back, silver eyes sweeping over his pack, and when he spoke, his voice was low thunder.
"Any hand raised against her is a hand raised against me."
The words cracked through the lodge like lightning. No one spoke after that.
But Eve knew better. Silence didn't mean safety. Silence meant waiting.
Kaelen led her into a small chamber tucked beneath the rafters. A bed of furs filled one corner, a narrow window let in a shaft of moonlight, and the air smelled of pine and smoke. He released her at last, stepping back, though his presence filled the room as if he hadn't moved at all.
Eve backed away until her shoulders hit the wall. Her knees threatened to buckle.
"You can't keep me here," she whispered.
Kaelen's gaze held hers, steady and unyielding. "I can. And I will. Until you understand."
She shook her head, fists clenched at her sides. "I'll never understand this. I'll never accept it."
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or anger, or both.
"Sleep," he said, turning toward the door. "You'll need your strength."
The door shut behind him, and the lock clicked into place.
Eve slid down the wall to the floor, her whole body trembling.
She had thought the crash, the silver eyes, the bond were the worst of it. She had been wrong.
This was worse.
Because now she was trapped—not just by walls or locks or even Kaelen's power, but by the pack itself. A hundred eyes in the dark, waiting, watching. Judging.
And the terrifying truth she couldn't silence whispered in the back of her mind, no matter how she fought it:
Part of her already belonged here.