The Ravenguard Packhouse was a fortress of stone and shadow, humming with secrets Lyra couldn't quite grasp. From the outside, it looked like a modern estate built into the forest edge, sleek but ominous, guarded by high walls and ever-watchful warriors. But inside, it pulsed with something deeper than just strength or tradition. There were stories buried in these walls, stories no one was willing to tell her.
Lyra stood at the edge of the third-floor hallway, watching the patrols shift below in the courtyard. Her hand brushed the scar on her collarbone, a souvenir from the night she was first captured. Every instinct told her she wasn't just here to survive anymore. She needed to understand this place or it would swallow her whole.
She'd been exploring small corners of the packhouse in secret, learning its layout. Every door she wasn't supposed to open just made her want to move. There was a constant tension, a hum in the air like something was just beneath the surface, waiting to crack open.
Today was no different.
A door near the west wing had been locked since she arrived. It was thick and reinforced with metal bands that didn't match the rustic aesthetic of the rest of the estate. Guards rarely walked this hallway unless they were summoned. It was the only place in the entire house where Lyra never heard footsteps, only silence.
Naturally, she was drawn to it.
She approached it again, her footsteps light on the stone floor. The door stood untouched, but the scent near it was different. Older. A mix of rusted iron and something earthy, like moss and blood. Her hand hovered over the knob when a voice cut through the air.
"You shouldn't be here."
Lyra turned sharply, already on guard. It was Evander the Beta. His voice was quiet, but his presence filled the hallway like a threat.
"I was just walking," she replied, casual but defiant.
Evander's eyes darkened. "This part of the house is restricted for a reason."
"Why?" she asked, folding her arms. "Because the Alpha said so, or because there's something behind that door you don't want me to see?"
He stepped closer, his gaze unflinching. "Not everything in Ravenguard is your concern."
Lyra didn't back down. "Maybe it should be, considering I've been Bloodbonded to your Alpha."
Evander flinched, barely but it was enough to tell her she'd struck a nerve.
"Don't mistake the bond for belonging," he said. "You may wear his mark, but loyalty isn't earned overnight. And trust…" He leaned in, voice colder. "Trust can be shattered the moment you step too far."
Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving her alone once again with the locked door and her rising questions.
Later that evening, the packhouse was quieter than usual. Warriors were on high alert, preparing for another patrol to the southern borders where rogue sightings had increased. Tension ran thick in the air. But inside, the focus had shifted to her.
Lyra sat in the training room, wrapping her knuckles. Alaric had ordered private combat sessions for her, claiming it was to prepare her for the Luna Court's scrutiny. But she suspected he had another reason to test her limits, or maybe to watch her break.
He hadn't shown up yet. Just as she finished tightening the wrap on her right hand, the heavy doors opened.
Alaric stepped inside, flanked by two guards who stayed behind as he walked forward alone. His shirt was dusted with dirt, his jaw tight from a long day. Even exhausted, he carried power in every step.
"Training without me?" he asked.
"I thought I'd get a head start," Lyra said, standing.
"Eager," he said, then tossed her a wooden blade. "Good. You'll need to be."
They faced each other, circling. Lyra watched the way he moved, calculated, restrained. Like he was holding back, studying her reactions more than her form.
"Why is that hallway locked?" she asked mid-swing.
He blocked her blade with ease, not missing a beat. "Which hallway?"
"You know which one."
He pushed forward, forcing her to retreat three steps. "You're asking questions that aren't yours to ask."
Lyra met his blade again, harder this time. "You keep saying that, but you forget I didn't ask for this bond. You made me part of your world, Alaric. I have a right to know what I walked into."
He stepped in close, their blades locked. His eyes burned gold.
"You walked into a kingdom built on sacrifice and blood," he said. "Behind those walls are ghosts. Mistakes. Things I buried to keep this pack alive."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Then maybe you should've let them stay buried instead of binding someone to them."
Their locked blades shook between them. Then Alaric pulled back, breaking the tension. He looked at her and for a second, she saw something under the cold exterior.
Not softness. But pain.
He spoke quietly. "That wing holds the cells. It's where traitors go. Rogues we capture. Enemies who come too close."
"You keep them in the house?" she asked, stunned.
He nodded. "Under constant guard. It's not just a prison. It's a message."
Lyra felt a chill crawl down her spine.
"A message to who?" she asked.
"To everyone," Alaric replied. "That betrayal doesn't end with death. It lives in chains. It reminds everyone what's at stake."
That night, Lyra couldn't sleep.
Alaric's words echoed in her mind. She understood punishment. She understood war. But this was something darker. Something that twisted loyalty into fear. She'd lived among rogues her whole life. She'd seen what desperation did to people. But this... this was the kind of silence that broke wolves from the inside.
She walked the halls quietly, passing by warriors who bowed their heads but never smiled. She could feel the cracks behind the pack's polished surface, the tension, the paranoia, the fear of stepping out of line.
And suddenly, she understood something.
This pack wasn't unified. It was controlled.
The Ravenguard Pack had power, yes. But it was splintering. Fear held them together. And fear... could only last so long before something or someone snapped.
As Lyra turned to head back to her room, she passed by the west wing again.
The metal door stood silent and shut.
But this time, it was different.
From behind it, she heard a sound.
A voice. Soft. Raspy. Barely there.
"Help…"
Lyra froze.
The whisper was gone as quickly as it came.
But she knew what she heard.
Someone was still alive there.