The Locked Door

The Locked Door
Chapter 46:

Ivy’s POV

Morning came slowly, the sunlight bleeding through the linen curtains in soft streaks of gold. For a few seconds, I forgot where I was. The scent of pine and smoke clung to the air instead of city exhaust, and when I sat up, the weight of the silence pressed against my chest.

Right. The packhouse. Damian’s home.

I exhaled, sitting up slowly and dragged a hand through my hair. The room looked too perfect, the bed too perfect, the sheets too straightened. Nothing seemed out of place, not even the blanket I’d kicked off sometime in the night. It felt like living inside a museum exhibit labeled ‘The Alpha’s Human Mate, Do Not Touch.’

A hot shower did little to fix the knot in my stomach. So I just braided my hair back and dressed up in the clothes that had been laid out for me folded neatly on a chair: jeans, a soft black sweater, and boots that were exactly my size. Probably by the steel-eyed woman.

My phone was on the nightstand, no messages from Damian, of course. Typical.

I glanced at the clock. If I hurried, I could still make it to class. Pretending life was normal sounded a lot better than sitting here waiting for him to decide whether I could breathe too.

I found my bag exactly where it was and grabbed it, slinging it over my shoulder and marched to the door. Because I still had class. A life. Homework. Friends who’d probably texted to ask why I’d vanished again.

Jason was waiting in the hall. Of course he was. The man stood like a statue, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. He looked like he'd been carved from concrete and programmed to ruin mornings.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice overly bright as I forced a smile on my face. “Could you tell Damian I’ll be back later? I’m heading to class.”

“I’m heading to class. I’ll be back later.”

He didn’t even blink. “You’re not leaving the property.”

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. “Excuse me?”

“Alpha’s orders,” he said evenly. “Until he returns and gives clearance, you stay inside.”

“Clearance!?” I blinked, “Jason, I have school. A life. Responsibilities. You can’t seriously expect me to sit around here all day doing what? Watching the trees grow?”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re under protection, Ms. Ivy. The situation outside isn’t stable, and until then you'll remain inside until the Alpha says otherwise.” The calm way he spoke, only served to make things worse.

“Protection,” I repeated, my voice rising. “That’s what he calls this? Because where I’m from, when you keep someone behind locked doors, it’s called ‘captivity.’ ”

Jason didn’t bother responding. If possible, his expression only got stonier. So, I tried a different tactic, softening my tone. “Look, I get that you’re doing your job, but I can’t just disappear off the map. People are going to start asking questions.”

“That’s not my concern.”

“Maybe it should be.”

He looked down at me then, one brow raised. “Are you done trying to plead your case?”

The hope in my chest turned to anger. “No, I’m not fucking done! I want to speak to Damian.” I said, folding my arms.

He looked down at me, clearly unimpressed. “You’re free to look for him in the house and air your complaints.” He replied, gesturing down the hallway.

My mouth fell open. “That’s not helpful.”

He didn’t seem to care. “Then I suggest you get used to the disappointment.” And with that, he turned and walked away, boots clicking against the floor, leaving me fuming in the doorway.

I stood there, glaring after him. “Unbelievable,” I muttered, clutching the strap of my bag. “They act like this is a military base.”

I reached for the door handle, just to see if they left it open at least, it didn’t budge. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” I tried again, harder. Nothing. The door didn’t even budge an inch.

“Seriously?” I twisted it again, shaking it. “He did not just lock me in.”

FYI, He absolutely did.

I stood there for a full ten seconds, breathing through my teeth before finally speaking, “Great,” I said aloud. “Fantastic. I’ve officially been upgraded from ‘under protection’ to ‘house arrest.’ ”

My pulse thudded in my temples. I tossed my bag onto the floor and started pacing. This wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t just sit here like some grounded teenager waiting for their mummy to forgive them.

“Fine,” I muttered. “If you won’t bring Damian to me, I’ll find him myself.”

I turned and started down the hallway, not caring that my boots thudded against the polished wood. The house was huge, with too many turns, too many identical doors, every corridor lined with portraits of past Alphas whose eyes followed you when you walked. 

Somewhere, faintly, I heard voices. They stopped when I turned the corner. Because of course they did.

I kept walking, ignoring the uneasy feeling that I was going in circles. Every corridor led to another. I passed what looked like a study, then a sitting room, then a staircase that spiraled up toward shadow.

I passed rooms filled with old books, weapons mounted on walls, doors slightly ajar revealing glimpses of velvet-draped furniture and maps scattered on tables.

But one thing remained the same, the deeper I went, the quieter it got.

“Damian!” I called once, the word bouncing uselessly off the walls. No answer. No sign of life at all.

It was official. He wasn’t here. “Brilliant,” I muttered. “Kidnapped by a control freak with a flair for interior design.”

I stopped before a heavy door at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t like the others. Taller, carved with symbols I didn’t recognize.

Curiosity prickled, pushing past reason. Maybe he was in there. Maybe someone was.

I hesitated, glancing behind me. Silence. “Alright, mystery door,” I whispered. “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.”

I pressed my hand against the handle, the door giving way easily.