Chapter 5 – The Broken Alpha
We reached the last hall. I slowed at Edward’s door and put a hand on the knob. Then I looked at her, really looked. Fear in the skin...steel in the voice...eyes like a secret. Trouble. Maybe useful trouble.
“Last chance to run,” I said, half-light, half-dark.
“Open the door,” she said. Her voice shook on the first word...but it came back for the second.
I turned the knob.
Inside, Edward pressed his hands against the rims of the wheels until his fingers ached. The taste of rage sat under his tongue...copper and old. He hated the chair...but he hated the room more. It knew him too well. It had learned his silence and now tried to sing it back at him.
The latch clicked. My head snapped toward the sound.
“I said no one comes in–”
The door opened before my bite finished. Two shapes entered with the hall light on their backs—Damien’s lazy shadow...and the girl maid I requested to see.
For a heartbeat, time did its ugly trick...it stretched. My blanket had slipped crooked across my knees. My shirt clung with sweat, my hair uncombed. It was a picture I would never allow anyone to see.
They saw it.
Damien’s smirk sat easy on his mouth. “Sir...your new maid.”
The girl’s eyes caught mine and could not decide whether to look away. Her fingers flexed on the strap of her bag. She wasn’t dressed like the polished ones who came to collect stories about sleeping with an Alpha. She looked like someone who knew what hunger did to a day.
Heat climbed my neck. Anger tried to put its mask back on my face.
“Who told you to bring her in?” I said, low.
“House rules,” Damien answered. “All staff report to you on day one.”
“My rules say knock and wait.”
“I knocked,” he said. “You told everyone to walk away. I made a judgment call.”
I rolled the chair forward two inches. The small sound of rubber against the rug wool felt too loud. “And you judged wrong.”
Damien’s eyes slid to the side wall for a second as if he were reading words there. He was playing his small games. He had been playing them more often...testing the fence for loose boards.
The girl shifted her weight. The move was small...but my eyes caught everything now. Her throat worked once. She took a breath that wanted to be steady. I caught the scent of fear...the kind that belongs to people who don’t want to show it because fear has already taken enough from them.
“What’s your name?” I asked her, hard.
She hesitated, and in that half-second something flickered in her eyes...a thought...a shield. “Elara,” she said.
“Ela...what.”
“Elara, Sir.”
'Sir'. The word had weight and emptiness at the same time.
“You’re late,” I said.
“I came as soon as I was called.”
“Called?” I looked at Damien.
He lifted a shoulder. “We needed help today. “There’s been…disruption. The kitchen’s understaffed, schedules are out of order…little chaos everywhere.”
“I did not call for help,” I cut in, my voice rising slightly before I forced it down. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. “And I do not tolerate interference in my house.”
“I handle my own affairs without interference.”
“I’m not here to interfere Sir,” Elara said, quiet…yet firm, not small.
Damien’s lips twitched. He was clearly enjoying this.
I shifted the chair slightly; the blanket scraped against my knees, fueling my anger hotter at the sound alone. “Look at me,” I ordered.
She did.
“Listen carefully,” I said. “This house is not kind. I am not kind. Waste my time, and you are gone. Lie to me, and you are gone. Touch what is not yours, and you are gone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say it.”
“I understand, Sir.”
Damien made a soft sound—half laugh, half purr—hiding behind his teeth. “She learns fast.”
I ignored him. “Tasks begin at dawn. You will be assigned a room…not this one. You do not enter unless called.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. A question tried to climb out, then died on her tongue. Good. Questions cost too much.
“Leave.”
She turned towards the door, and walked out.
Elara’s footsteps faded down the hall. The door clicked shut, and silence stretched, heavy and expectant. I didn’t move immediately, letting the quiet settle around Damien like a cage.
“Damn girl’s fearless,” Damien said finally, his voice low, casual...but not entirely without edge.
I ignored the jab. “We have work to do,” I said. My fingers flexed on the armrest. “Start with the schedule. The pack needs order, not chaos.”
He leaned back against the doorway, arms crossed. “Order, huh? That’s one word for it. You’re asking a lot, Edward.”
“I’m asking what’s necessary,” I said. “Half the guards are distracted. Supplies are mismanaged. Someone isn’t pulling their weight, and I intend to find out who.”
Damien smirked, the way he always did when he knew more than he was letting on. “You always find out. That’s why they keep coming back, isn’t it? They think they can get one over on you, then—bam—you catch them.”
“Catch them and what?” I pressed. “Punish? Exile? Or just watch as they squirm?”
“Depends,” he said smoothly. “Sometimes watching is punishment enough. Sometimes…” he paused, letting the thought hang. “…sometimes you need to remind them who’s alpha in more ways than one.”
I felt the room tighten around us. His eyes glinted, like he knew something I didn’t, and part of me hated the fact that I wanted to ask. I forced the question anyway. “The pack. Are they still loyal?”
Damien’s smirk softened into something unreadable. “Loyal? Some of them. Others…they wait for the cracks. They’re like wolves circling a wounded stag. You’re strong, Edward, but even the strongest bleed.”
“Then we make sure they don’t,” I said, flat, final. “The next moonrise, I want every detail on the rotations, the guards, the supply lines. Nothing left unchecked.”
He chuckled softly, a low sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re relentless. I like that. But you tire yourself, you know. You can’t hold every string. That’s what the pack is for. That’s why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here,” I said, voice colder now. “And I know your limits, Damien. Don’t test me.”
He leaned forward, just slightly, enough to erase some of the distance. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Sir. Not unless you ask me to.”
I sat back, letting the moment pass, but my mind was already on the next steps. Orders, rotations, checks. The pack may follow, or they may falter–but I would not. Not while I had the choice.
Damien’s eyes lingered on me a second longer, then he turned, moving toward the hall. “I’ll get started. Dawn isn’t far.”
I watched him go, the quiet settling again. The weight of responsibility pressed down, heavier than any conversation, heavier than any threat.