Chapter 27 Whispers in the Shadows
The following day brought gray skies and a biting wind that howled around the estate like a warning. I skipped breakfast entirely, slipping into the kitchen for a quick mug of coffee while Clara bustled around preparing trays. She gave me a small, sympathetic smile as I leaned against the counter, but said nothing. I was grateful for the silence.
Winter break meant no mandatory classes, but I’d arranged a half-day group project session on campus with Clara and Sophia, something voluntary to keep my grades sharp and my mind off the mansion’s tension. We met in the school library, surrounded by drawing boards, textbooks and coffee cups as usual. For a few hours, everything felt normal: laughter, eye-rolling over bad ideas, the familiar rhythm of collaboration. It was a lifeline.
By early afternoon, the sky had darkened further, heavy clouds threatening snow. I drove back with the heater blasting, the bond tugging gently, a quiet reminder of Alexander somewhere inside the house. Ben’s car was absent from the driveway. The house felt unusually quiet. I wandered toward the west wing, drawn by instinct more than decision, and paused outside Alexander’s study. The door was closed, but low voices filtered through, deep, serious tones that carried the weight of authority.
I lingered in the hallway, pretending to study landscape painting while I listened. My heightened hearing caught fragments clearly.
"...Silver Pack remnants? Impossible. Wiped out twenty-five years ago."
"Scouts picked up unusual scents near the northern border. Faint, but unmistakable. Could be stragglers testing our defenses."
Alexander’s voice cut in, calm and commanding: "Double the patrols. Quietly. If it’s survivors, we contain it before it becomes a problem. No risks to the pack."
A pause. "And if they’re organized?"
"Then we handle it the old way. But I want confirmation first."
The conversation shifted to logistics, patrol rotations, border markers. Nothing more about the Silver Pack. Just routine security for a world I was only beginning to understand.
Footsteps approached from inside; I hurried away before anyone emerged, heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t name. The Silver Pack, wiped out twenty-five years ago. A distant tragedy. Just another piece of Alexander’s hidden life.
I retreated to my room for the rest of the afternoon, curling up with a textbook I didn’t really read. The wind rattled the French doors, and the gray light made everything feel heavier.
Clara brought dinner on a tray at seven, roast chicken, buttered vegetables, warm bread, saying Ben had requested a "quiet evening" and Mr. Alexander was occupied. I ate alone at the small table by the window, grateful to avoid the dining room charade. The food was delicious, but I barely tasted it.
Afterward, I changed into soft pajamas and settled on the bed with my laptop. It was time to check in with the one person who always grounded me.
Lily answered the video call on the second ring, her face filling the screen with that bright, mischievous smile I’d missed so much. She was in her dorm lounge, wearing an oversized university hoodie, hair twisted up in a messy bun.
"Mads!" she squealed. "Finally! I thought married life had swallowed you whole."
I laughed, the sound easing some of the tightness in my chest. "Not quite. Just busy. How’s business school treating you?"
"Brutal," she groaned dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "Corporate finance is trying to murder me. But I aced my last presentation, so there’s that. Professor said my valuation model was 'impressively thorough.'" She grinned. "Translation: I stayed up three nights straight."
"That’s my girl," I said proudly.
“How is mum doing?” she asked.
"Mum is getting better every day. Physical therapy’s going well, she walked the full hallway last week without the cane. And the new meds are helping. I briefly explained to her so she won't think too much about mum and focus on her studies.
“Hope you're enjoying the big mansion” Lily enthusiastically asked
I forced a smile. "Things are... complicated here."
Lily’s eyes narrowed. "Complicated how? You look tired, Mads. And not just studying tired."
I hesitated. I couldn’t tell her about werewolves or mate bonds. "Just adjusting. Big house, new routines. Ben’s... intense about work."
She made a face. "He always was. But you’re okay? Really?"
"I’m okay," I promised. "Just miss you, yeah? And study hard, but sleep sometimes."
"Yes, Mom," she teased. We talked for another half hour, about her roommate drama, my group project, holiday plans we both knew might not happen. When we finally hung up, the room felt a little less empty.
I turned off the lights and crawled under the covers, exhaustion pulling at me. The wind still howled outside, branches scraping against the glass like fingers. Sleep came quickly, but it wasn’t peaceful.
The nightmare began in darkness.
I stood in a forest under a blood-red moon, the air thick with smoke and the copper tang of blood. Howls echoed all around, agonized, furious. Shadows moved between trees: massive wolves tearing into each other with savage violence. Flashes of silver fur against black. Snarls. Screams that sounded almost human.
Fire raged in the distance, illuminating bodies strewn across the ground, some human, some halfway shifted, frozen in agony. A woman with silver-streaked hair clutched a child to her chest, running, terror in her eyes. Behind her, dark wolves pursued, eyes glowing with merciless hunger.
I tried to move, to help, but my feet were rooted. The woman looked back, directly at me, her face contorted in grief. "Run," she whispered, voice carrying on the wind. "Don’t let them find you."
Then the pursuing wolves turned their heads. Their eyes fixed on me. They charged.
I jolted awake with a gasp, heart pounding, sheets tangled around my legs. The room was dark, the wind still rattling the windows, but the clock glowed at 1:17 a.m. Just a dream. A horrible, vivid dream.
I pulled the covers to my chin, breathing slowly until my pulse calmed. The images lingered, the blood, the fire, the woman’s desperate face. Just my subconscious processing Alexander’s world, I told myself. Nothing more.
Outside, the wind howled on, carrying secrets I wasn’t ready to hear.
I closed my eyes, willing to sleep to return without monsters. Eventually it did, dreamless this time.
But deep inside, something stirred restlessly, as if the wolves in my nightmare had followed me into the waking world.