Two days.
At least, she thought it was two days. Hard to tell without her phone, without a clock, with only the light through the windows to mark time. The sun rose. The sun set. She slept lightly , waking at every sound, every creak of the old house settling around her.
She'd eaten.
Not the first tray. That one sat untouched until the silent woman came back and took it away without a word. But by the second tray, her stomach was cramping so hard she couldn't think, and pride meant nothing if she starved to death in a locked room.
The food was good. Better than anything she'd ever made for herself. Roasted chicken, vegetables that actually tasted like something, bread that was soft and warm. She hated that it was good. Hated that she felt stronger after eating, like they were doing her a favor instead of keeping her alive for whatever came next.
She paced.
Twelve steps from the bed to the window. Eight steps from the window to the bathroom door. Fifteen steps along the wall with the dresser. She counted them over and over, wearing a path into the plush carpet, burning off the energy that had nowhere else to go.
Her mind wouldn't stop.
Werewolves. He said werewolves.
It's real. All of it. It's real.
The thought kept circling back, no matter how many times she tried to push it away.
The lock clicked at what she guessed was noon.
Cora stopped pacing. Positioned herself near the window, as far from the door as she could get while still watching it.
The woman entered with another tray. Same blank expression,Same unsettling silence.
Today, Cora was ready.
"What's your name?"
Nothing. The woman crossed to the small table near the door, set the tray down.
"You come here three times a day. You bring me food..You never say a word." Cora took a step closer. "I'm not asking for your life story. Just a name."
The woman straightened. For a moment, their eyes met.
Dark brown. Almost black. Empty in a way that made Cora's skin prickle.Like whoever this woman had been, she'd been hollowed out and filled with something else.
"Do you even speak?"
The woman turned toward the door.
"Wait. Please." Cora moved without thinking, putting herself between the woman and the exit. Stupid. She knew it was stupid , but desperation made people do stupid things. "I just want to understand what's happening. Where I am. Why I'm here. Anything."
The woman looked at her.
Then she moved.
One hand caught Cora's shoulder, not rough, but firm enough to make resistance pointless. She guided her aside and stepped through the door, and pulled it shut behind her.
Cora stared at the closed door.
The food sat untouched.
Not because she wasn't hungry. She was. But the frustration burning through her chest left no room for anything else.
She was trapped. Completely, utterly trapped. No information. No allies. No way out. Just this room with its expensive furniture and its locked door and its windows that looked out onto miles of nothing.
Cora grabbed the glass of water from the tray and threw it.
It shattered against the wall. Water splashed across the wallpaper, dripped down onto the carpet. Shards of glass scattered across the floor, glittering in the afternoon light.
She stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides.
Stupid. That was stupid. Now you don't have water.
She pressed her palms against her eyes. Tried to slow her breathing. Tried to think.
The lights flickered.
Cora's hands dropped. She looked up at the chandelier. The crystals swayed slightly, catching light that stuttered and jumped.
Then it steadied. The flickering stopped. Everything was still.
A knock at the door made her jump.
"Hello?" A male voice. Unfamiliar. Warm. "I'm coming in. Please don't throw anything at my head."
The door opened.
He wasn't what she expected.
Younger than Damien, maybe mid-twenties if she had to guess. Taller than her but not towering, with a lean build and an easy way of holding himself. Dark hair pushed back from a face that was almost pretty, sharp cheekbones and full mouth, the kind of features that probably got him whatever he wanted. His eyes were warm brown, crinkled at the corners like he smiled often.
He was smiling now.
"You must be the mystery guest everyone's whispering about." He leaned against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. Casual. Unthreatening. "I'm Viktor."
Cora didn't move from her spot by the window. "Everyone's whispering about me?"
"A human girl locked in the west wing? Of course they are." He glanced around the room, taking in the shattered glass, the water stain on the wall. "Redecorating?"
"The glass slipped."
"Right into the wall. Impressive."
She felt her mouth twitch despite herself. Fought it down.
"What do you want?"
"Honestly? I was curious." He stepped into the room, though he kept his distance. Giving her space. "And I thought you might be bored out of your mind. So I brought these."
He pulled something from behind his back. Books. Three of them, paperbacks with worn spines.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I grabbed a mix. Thriller, romance, fantasy." He set them on the dresser. "The romance is actually pretty good, but I'll deny saying that if you tell anyone."
Cora stared at the books. Then at him.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because you're stuck in a room with no one to talk to and nothing to do." He shrugged. "And contrary to what you might think, not everyone here is a monster."
Cora didn't touch the books. Not yet. She wasn't ready to accept anything from anyone in this place.
But she didn't tell him to leave either.
"You said west wing," she said. "West wing of what?"
Viktor settled against the dresser, arms crossed, relaxed. Like they were two friends having a conversation.
"The Volkov estate. About three hours outside the city, deep in the mountains. The nearest town is forty minutes by car." He tilted his head. "In case you were thinking about running."
"I wasn't."
"Liar." But he said it lightly, almost teasing. "Everyone thinks about running at first. It's natural."
"And what happens to the ones who try?"
"Depends on who catches them." His smile dimmed slightly. "My advice? Don't let it be Damien."
The name landed like a stone in her chest.
"That's his name? The one who—"
"Took you. Yes." Viktor's expression shifted into something more careful. "Damien Volkov. Alpha of this pack. The most powerful wolf in the northern territories, possibly the continent." A pause. "Not someone you want as an enemy."
"He kidnapped me. I think we're past friendly terms."
Viktor laughed."Fair point."
Cora filed the information away. Volkov. Alpha. Northern territories. Most powerful. None of it meant anything to her yet.
"Why does he want me here?"
The question landed differently. Viktor's smile faded, replaced by something harder to read.
"That's not really my place to say."
"But you know."
"I know some things." He pushed off the dresser, moving toward the door. "And I know that Damien doesn't do anything without a reason. If you're here, it's because you matter somehow. He just hasn't figured out how yet."
He paused at the threshold, looking back at her.
"Read the books. Get some rest. And try not to throw anything else at the walls." That easy smile returned. "I'll check on you again soon."
The door closed behind him.
The lock didn't click.
Cora stared at it. Waited. One second ,
Two.
Still unlocked.
She crossed the room slowly. Wrapped her fingers around the handle and Pulled the handle of the door
It opened.
The hallway stretched out before her, empty and dim.
An invitation. Or a test.
She stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, mind racing.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. This was it. This was her chance. Maybe her only chance.
Don't let it be Damien.
Viktor's words echoed in her head.
FUCK him
Then she ran.