Chapter 5: The House Of Three Thrones.

The massive doors of the pack house opened slowly, Not made with wood rather with Black marble veined with silver ran up the towering entrance, carved with ancient symbols of war, moon cycles, and blood oaths. The building itself looked like a fortress with a palace combined, high vaulted ceilings, iron chandeliers burning with blue flame, long red banners with the crest on them.

You could feel the old Power in the air.

The moment Ares and Dante stepped in the entire hall came to life.

Maids lined on both sides of the grand corridor, with heads bowed deeply.

“Welcome home, my Lords.” they said in perfect unison.

Maria walked a step behind the twins, her bare feet making no sound on the polished obsidian floor. Her storm-grey eyes lifted slowly, studying everything.

The wealth.

The authority.

The control.

This wasn’t just a pack house.

It was a throne kingdom.

At the far right side of the hall stood a separate elevated section — a wide double door carved from dark oak reinforced with silver steel. Moon symbols and claw engravings framed it like a warning.

Above it was carved a single phrase:

Power is Taken. Not Given.

The doors were closed.

But even from where she stood, Maria could feel it.

The throne room.

On the doors three thrones were carved from black stone, Two identical, sharp-edged and imposing. The third is slightly taller, centered between them — ancient, older than the rest.

Reserved.

Waiting.

She didn’t know how she knew.

She just did.

Ares’ voice cut through the hall calmly.

“Prepare the chamber closest to ours.”

A maid stepped forward immediately. “Yes, my Lord.”

Dante added lazily, “Make it comfortable.”

His golden eyes flicked toward Maria.

“For now.”

The maids scattered quickly.

Maria remained still.

Observing.

Memorizing exits. Guards. Staircases. Balconies. Distances.

She didn’t notice when Dante stepped closer.

Not until his voice brushed her ear.

“What are you looking at?”

Her heart jumped violently.

She turned too fast.

Too close.

Their lips nearly touched.

A breath apart.

His golden eyes locked onto hers.

Warm.

Dangerous.

Her breath caught.

Heat rushed through her chest — unwanted. Confusing.

She stepped back immediately.

“Nothing,” she said coldly.

Dante’s gaze lingered on her lips a second too long before he straightened.

Ares had not moved.

But his eyes had darkened slightly.

Maria forced herself to look away.

This place felt too big.

Too powerful.

Like it was swallowing her.

She folded her arms slightly and asked, voice steady,

“What am I going to be doing here?”

Silence stretched.

Ares finally stepped forward.

“You will stay,” he said simply.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Dante smirked faintly.

“I admire that tone. Keep it.”

Maria’s jaw tightened.

“I am not a pet. Or decoration.”

Ares’ gaze sharpened.

“No.”

He stepped closer.

Close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.

“You are under our protection.”

The word felt heavy.

Restrictive.

Dante circled behind her slowly.

Predatory.

“And protection,” he murmured near her ear again, “comes with proximity.”

The heat returned.

Stronger.

Her pulse betrayed her.

She hated it.

“Answer me,” she demanded. “What do you expect from me?”

Ares’ expression did not change.

“Nothing.”

That unsettled her more than anything.

Dante stopped in front of her now.

Golden eyes thoughtful.

“We want to see what you are.”

The words hung in the air.

Not who.

What.

A chill ran down her spine.

From the side of the hall, the heavy throne room doors creaked faintly — just enough to remind her they existed.

Closed.

Watching.

Waiting.

Maria followed the sound unconsciously.

Dante noticed.

A slow smile curved his lips.

“You felt that too, didn’t you?”

Her storm-grey eyes flickered.

For just a second—

They flashed brighter.

Ares saw it.

The air thickened.

Something ancient stirred in the walls.

Then the doors stilled.

Silence returned.

A maid hurried back nervously.

“My Lords, the chamber is ready.”

Ares nodded once.

Dante gestured toward the staircase.

“After you, storm girl.”

Maria didn’t move immediately.

Her gaze remained fixed on the throne room doors.

Three thrones.

Two claimed.

One empty.

And something deep in her chest whispered—

Not empty.

Reserved.

************************

The corridor leading to her chamber was quieter than the grand hall below. Tall arched windows lined one side, moonlight spilling across black floors. Silver lanterns hung between carved pillars shaped like twisting wolves frozen mid-howl. Two maids walked slightly ahead of Maria, heads lowered.

“My Lady,” one of them said softly, “this will be your chamber.”

The doors were double-paneled oak, carved with delicate storm patterns and crescent moons. When they opened the door warm golden light spilled out. Maria stepped inside, and stopped. The room was enormous, painted like a midnight sky with stars traced in sliver leaf. The ceiling was arched high up with a crystal chandelier and dark iron hung at its center, shining softly with enchanted flame.

A massive four-poster bed stood against the far wall, draped in deep charcoal silk with silver embroidery threading the edges like lightning across clouds. Plush fur rugs covered the stone floor, soft beneath bare feet. A marble fireplace was already lit at the right side of the room, with carvings of Lycan symbols on it. To the left, a tall glass door was opened onto a balcony overlooking the forest territory below.

There was a seating area with chairs in made in wine red, a low obsidian table polished to mirror shine. A wardrobe stood open twice the size she had ever seen, revealing rows of gowns, fitted riding leathers, cloaks trimmed in silver thread. On the bed lay fresh garments, soft dark fabric, elegant yet simple. Near the end of the room you can see a bath through an arch. made of white stone steamed up With rose petals floating on the water and special oils around the edge.

Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

“Your bath is ready, my Lady,” the maid said gently. “Supper will be prepared shortly. Is there anything you require?”

Maria slowly turned in place, taking it all in.

Luxury.

Warmth she was no longer used to.

Comfort she yearns for but not anymore.

Everything felt wrong.

Like being wrapped in silk while still bleeding.

She looked at the maid.

“Where are the maid quarters?”

The girl blinked, clearly confused. “My Lady?”

“The maid quarters,” Maria repeated calmly. “I want a room there.”

The air in the chamber shifted.

The maid’s face drained of color.

“W-why would you wish to stay there?”

Maria’s voice was steady. “Because this is not my place.”

The words had barely left her mouth when the maid dropped to her knees.

Hard.

“My Lady, please!” she cried, bowing deeply until her forehead touched the floor. “Do not say such things! If the Lords believe we have failed in our duty— if they think you are displeased— I will lose my position! I could lose my head!”

Maria froze.

“What?”

Tears welled in the maid’s eyes. “They ordered the chamber closest to theirs prepared immediately. If you refuse it… it will be seen as our incompetence. Please… I beg you… stay here.”

Maria stared at her.

Lose her head?

For a room?

This place was more ruthless than she thought.

She stepped forward quickly and crouched down, gripping the maid’s shoulders.

“Stop,” she said firmly. “Get up.”

The girl hesitated.

“I will not put you in trouble,” Maria added. “I asked out of preference. Not complaints.”

Slowly, trembling, the maid rose.

Maria released her gently.

“You may leave,” she said quietly.

The maid bowed deeply. “Thank you, my Lady.”

And then she fled.

The chamber fell silent again, Maria stood alone in the center of the big room.

The fire cracked softly, the bath steamed.

The balcony curtains shifted with a gentle breeze.

She walked toward the bed and pressed her fingers into the silk sheets, Soft, Warm, a queen’s bed, not a slaves.

Her jaw tightened.

“This changes nothing,” she whispered to herself, It was still a cage, just gilded. Her gaze drifted toward the balcony and the dark forest, beyond. out there the rogue who destroyed her life was breathing.

Living.

Unpunished.

Her storm-grey eyes hardened.

Let them think she was comfortable.

Let them think she was safe.

She would rest.

She would watch.

And when the time came—

She would leave this palace the same way she left every other place she had been sold to.

Without permission.