Chapter 20: Chapter Twenty - Let's Get Serious

They continued walking in silence until they reached a set of massive double doors carved with intricate designs of wolves and moons and forests. Balfour pushed them open with casual strength, revealing the library.

Carter could barely breathe, amazed at the sight of it.

It was enormous. Three stories tall with a spiral staircase connecting the levels, floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with thousands upon thousands of books.

There were reading nooks tucked into corners, comfortable-looking leather chairs positioned near fireplaces, and tall windows that let in natural light.

But as Carter moved closer to examine the collection, his initial wonder faded into disappointment.

There was only book after book of werewolf law, werewolf ancestry, werewolf history, werewolf mythology.

Pack politics and moon cycles and their effects on shifting abilities. What the hell did any of that even mean?

Nothing useful for escape planning, nor was there anything that would help him contact the outside world.

He was about to grow even more frustrated when he spotted something out of the corner of his eyes.

It was an old, empty journal tucked between two massive tomes about pack genealogy or some other werewolf nonsense.

The leather was worn but still intact, and when Carter opened it, the pages were blank.

"Can I keep this?" he asked Balfour.

"Of course," Balfour said easily, settling into one of the leather chairs with a contented sigh.

“This entire building belongs to the Alpha, as do the grounds it stands on and the people within. And since the Alpha is your mate, whatever belongs to him also belongs to you."

Carter took the journal, found a pen in a nearby desk drawer, and made up his mind to just write his journals by hand instead, like a caveman.

Or like someone trapped in a cult compound with no access to technology, since Dallas wouldn’t let him have a phone or a laptop or anything.

Someone had to document all this, and who better to do that than Carter himself?

He chuckled to himself, despite how ridiculous this all was.

Maybe in the future, after he finally got out, he could do a documentary about this strange cluster of weird rich people with delusions of being werewolves.

Then he would get a deal with Netflix or something. "Escape from the Wolf Pack: A True Story."

Then he'd be rich and successful, and he wouldn't need to marry some obscenely wealthy woman just to take care of his family's financial problems.

Though Dallas may have already ruined him for women forever.

Carter hated admitting it, but all those years he'd spent with girlfriends had felt more like close buddy-buddy friendships than actual romantic or sexual relationships.

He'd never been able to figure out why he couldn't get himself turned on by them, had always chalked it up to being a late bloomer.

He thought maybe he just had a slower-than-usual sex drive or maybe had not met the right person yet, and that eventually he would grow out of it.

Maybe that was why it had been so easy for those girls to leave him the moment someone else showed deeper interest. Someone else being that bastard Dallas, of course.

Sophie had been the first woman he'd ever been genuinely attracted to in that way.

But even that felt difficult now, comparing the dull, ordinary, way they'd been together with the wild sparks and electric excitement he felt with Dallas.

The way Dallas made him feel completely consumed, completely alive, completely—

No. Stop it. That's the Stockholm syndrome talking, Carter.

"I seem to have lost you again."

Carter blinked, looking up to find Balfour watching him with shrewd eyes. "I'm sorry, that was rude. What were you saying?"

"I was asking," Balfour said slowly, his friendly demeanour growing cold as ice, though the smile never went away, "about your thoughts on the younger wolves' behaviour. I mentioned that although they lacked respect and will be punished for their insolence—"

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Carter interrupted quickly. "They were just curious. I don't mind it at all."

"Perhaps not," Balfour continued, leaning forward in his chair. "But I have to admit that they did have a valid point, didn't they?”

Carter’s stomach dropped. Balfour’s eyes had gone from warm brown to cold yellow, and there was nothing jolly about his expression now.

“What do you mean?”

“You are an outsider.” Balfour accused. “And judging by the observations I've made of you in the past hour; constantly scanning your surroundings, checking for exits, and looking at security cameras when you think I'm not paying attention… I consider you to be highly suspicious."

Carter felt a cold sweat starting to bead on his forehead, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in fear.

He had never had anyone look at him like that before, with nothing but black death and murderous intent in their eyes.

"Tell me, Carter Whitfield," Balfour said, his voice dropping to a deadly tone. "Who exactly are you? What rival pack sent you here? And what have you done to our Alpha to make him lose his mind so completely over a human?"