Sarah
We pass the main gates to the Shadowcrest territory. They fall away behind us, cloaked in frost covered vines.
It’s been a silent drive. Silent–and I’m terribly sick to my stomach. Alpha Sydney was right about the uphill drive being bumpy and dangerous, but his pack lives in one of the more remote territories surrounding Crescent City.
A stone wall runs alongside the truck as he continues driving uphill, turning with great effort around a sharp bend in the hillside. My view from the window gives way to a small, bustling city below, the roof tiles mingling with thick, snow covered trees, and in the distance?
The castle of Crescent Falls rises like a beacon overlooking a sprawling metropolis.
He turns onto a side road, and eventually, we meet a private gate that swings open for him automatically. No guards linger around the entrance to what I assume is a private driveway. A dense forest hugs the road on either side, not a building in sight.
I sit up a little straighter as the trees suddenly drop away, revealing a sweeping view below.
“All of that is Shadowcrest,” he says over the hum of the engine. His tone is even, impossible to decipher. He’s tense, that’s clear. Angry over something, which is why I haven’t pestered him with questions… yet.
A few narrow streets wind through the woods below us as he drives along a cliff edge. Beyond the guard rail, I see a few larger buildings–a school, perhaps, judging by the enormous playground, and a library. Townhomes hug the town center where people and wolves are nothing but little dots that move back and forth between stores and cafes.
Houses sprinkle the forest beyond. Some are larger than others, with lawns and parks between them.
It looks nothing like the choked, colorless streets of the NZ.
It’s beautiful here.
It feels… safe. Secure. A hidden treasure in a city where over a dozen packs bleed into one.
My gaze is still on the town below when Alpha Sydney presses the garage door opener on his sun vizor.
I nearly snap my neck to look through the windshield, and then I find it impossible to breathe.
A three story stone manor rises in front of us. The front yard is completely cloaked in snow and swirling ice fog that coats every tree in shimmering crystals that gleam in the sun. Smoke rises from four chimneys that tower above the dark tiles of the roof.
Pale blue shutters bring a pop of color to the manor, which has to be ancient.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
I gape out my window as he pulls around the house toward an attached garage, which is obviously an addition.
“Who lives here?” I can’t completely lose my mind now and get comfortable, despite the warmth and promise of safety for me and my son, who’s fast asleep in his new car seat. I could be walking into a room full of Alphas waiting to fight over whose pack gets to be the one to judge my fate.
This could be nothing more than a meeting house. A pack house, which would be even worse, but there’s so few of those left in Crescent Falls.
He pulls into the garage and shuts off the truck, the garage door rolling closed behind us.
Silence chokes the air between us. He grips the wheel, his eyes on the nondescript door I assume leads into the manor.
I sense tension. Serious tension. I stare at him, watching his eyes. Watching how the fluorescent overhead lights shining through the windshield give me a little glimpse behind those pools of blue.
He’s trying to decide something right now. I just don’t know what.
He gets out of the truck and walks around it to open my door.
He extends his hand to me, and I take it without thought, but when I try to step out of the truck, I’m stuck.
He leans over me and unbuckles my seatbelt, his shoulder brushing my chest.
He smells like…
“Alpha Sydney? What is–” A sharp, female voice rings through the air at the same moment I step out of the truck.
A middle-aged woman darkens the doorway, looking more than confused.
Her eyes are just as cutting as her tone, but when they rake over me, they soften.
“Your Grace?” she says slowly, hurrying down a short flight of steps.
“Cosette, get a guest room set up. The yellow room,” Sydney says, shutting the passenger side door. “She needs a hot meal and a bath.”
“Yes, of course, but–”
“I need Dalia to help with the baby.”
“The what?” Cosette is suddenly beside me, taking me by the hand.
With a grunt, Sydney lifts the entire car seat out of the truck and walks in our direction.
Cosette looks at me. I look at her, hoping she can see the silent pleas behind my eyes.
Why am I here? What does he want with me? What have I done?
Her grip on my hand tightens as Alpha Sydney walks past us. My baby is still fast asleep, his cheeks a ruddy pink and smooshed against the car seat straps.
He looks peaceful for the first time in his young life, and the sight of it rips me to my core.
Cosette watches Alpha Sydney disappear into the house before slowly turning back to me. Her eyes are deep brown fanned by golden stripes. She caresses my cheek, her thumb sliding down the bridge of my nose, and pauses at the kink from an old, poorly mended break.
“Is that your baby?”
“Yes.”
She smiles tightly, her eyes searching mine. For what, I don’t know, but she nods to herself and guides me into the house.
The gray walls and polished concrete of the garage give way to sprays of color. Warm reds. Deep purples. Dark hardwood floors and matching paneling. Art hangs in sleek frames throughout the foyer, and thick curtains are drawn against the bitter cold and blinding sun.
But it’s warm here. So, so warm. The walls don’t drip with condensation, and it smells fresh, like clean laundry, instead of mildew and smoke.
When we reach the foyer, where Alpha Sydney stands with the car seat, his eyes scanning mine… I burst into tears, unable to hold them back.
“Get her upstairs, now,” he says sharply, and Cosette hurries me through the foyer.
“But, wait–my–” I reach for Alpha Sydney, for the car seat.
“He’s fine, honey,” Cosette says, gripping my wrist.
What can I possibly do? I can’t fight her and run back to my son. I can’t force the Alpha to let him go.
I’m weak right now. My mind is a tangled mess of emotion. I’m barely healed from giving birth, and I haven’t eaten a real, hot meal in weeks.
Maybe months.
My body revolts against my mind, and I relax, letting Cosette guide me up the grand staircase. My worn boots leave a trail of damp on the crimson carpet runner covering what looks like pure black marble.
I keep my eyes on my boots until Cosette turns us into a room on the second floor.
The yellow room. It’s aptly named. Sprays of muted yellow wallpaper hug each wall. A four poster bed bigger than my apartment invites me in.
“I’ll have some flowers brought up to warm the place up a bit,” Cosette says absently as she lets go of my wrist and disappears into an ensuite bathroom.
The sound of water running shocks my system. More tears flow freely down my cheeks. A chill–not one brought on by the cold, finally–licks up my spine.
Cosette peaks around the doorframe, steam wrapping around her ankles as she wipes her hands on her apron. “Ready? I’m sure this will feel great. I keep Alpha Sydney’s cabinets well stocked with the best oils and shampoos the kingdom has to offer.”
She’s obviously trying to tempt me into following her into the bathroom. As someone who can readily admit to loving stuff, I’m considering it.
But I glance toward the door we just came through.
“The baby is perfectly safe with His Grace,” she says softly. “I promise.”
I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat, and follow her into the bathroom.
I’ve lost all feeling of self-consciousness after having a baby. I don’t squirm or flinch when Cosette peels my sweater from my skin and tosses it outside of the bathroom. But I know she’s looking me over with a critic’s eye as I take off the rest of my clothes and lower myself into the bath, wincing at the hot temperature.
But it’s divine. Fragrant water laps over every inch of my body, and I melt into it, choking back a grateful sob.
“How old is your baby?” she asks, kneeling beside the claw-foot tub to unbraid my hair.
“A week.”
She stands still for a moment before starting up again. She runs a comb through my hair, gently working through each knot. “How are you feeling?”
Awful. Terrified.
“I’m all right.”
“He’s a beautiful baby,” she says before pouring hot water over my head. I tilt my face to the ceiling on instinct, closing my eyes as she rubs shampoo over each strand. I hear her murmur, “Poor thing,” and I know she’s not talking about him.
She’s talking about me.
My heart quakes. No one has taken care of me like this in a very long time, and I’ve forgotten how to convey my thanks.
She says nothing further. I’m sure she has questions. I have them too, but the water and her touch has me calming to the point I’m nearly falling asleep.
But soon I’m standing in a fluffy robe in the center of the guest room, my hair wrapped in a towel, watching Cosette flutter around gathering something for me to wear.
“We don’t have women’s clothing lying around,” she says with some annoyance.
For whatever reason, this eases some of the anxiety clouding my senses. It sounds like Sydney lives here alone.
Cosette obviously runs the house.
A young woman appears in the doorway just as Cosette walks toward me with a pair of soft, cotton pajamas that probably belong to Alpha Sydney.
The woman’s bright red hair catches the sunlight coming through the windows. She’s pretty. She must be young. No more than eighteen.
“Oh, good. Dalia, I need you to call that boutique in town and have them send some clothing up to us. Shirts, pants, underthings–” She waves a hand to the ceiling. “Practically everything Sarah will need.”
I wonder how she knows my name. I must have told her while I was slowly falling asleep in the bath.
I wonder what else I told her as Dahlia nods along to Cosette's requests.
But my chest is in knots.
“Where is my baby?” I ask, turning to Dalia.
“He’s asleep.” She points to a door on the opposite side of the room to the ensuite. “Just through there.”
“Alpha Sydney has a nursery?” I ask before I can stop myself.
It would make sense. He knew what to buy and how to install a car seat. He has some skill in the art of holding newborns.
My stomach sinks.
“Oh, no,” Cosette says in a pinched voice. “But his last maid had a few young children who came here while she worked, so we have what we need, for now.”
I nod, but my head is spinning.
“Where–Where is Alpha Sydney? I need to talk to him.”
Both women look at me. I wait for their soft, concerned expressions to shift to something cold and disgusted because I’m a prisoner, right? He must think I killed Ms. Eloise. He must have seen the conditions I was living in and decided I was an unfit mother, and is going to have my son taken from me.
I square my shoulders in preparation for my fate.
“He went back into Crescent City to track down that shameful slumlord who allowed you and an infant to live in squalor and cold,” Cosette says hotly, her cheeks flaming with fury. “Don’t worry yourself, honey. You’re safe. That man can’t hurt you again. He’ll be caught and tried for murder for the death of your poor elderly neighbor. Now, let’s get you dressed and go downstairs to have something hot to eat. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to cook a real meal for.” She smiles wistfully. “What would you like? Chicken pot pie? Roast beef? Stew?”
My mouth pops open in shock.