Chapter 6: Silverpine Pack

Eve~

"I will miss you so much, my darling Ellen," my mother's feigned despair echoed as she held me, fake tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't mess this up," she whispered harshly into my ear.

My body still throbbed from what the deltas had done to erase the scars. The last thing I needed was someone touching me, but I sucked it up.

I just wanted to be done with this. I sighed deeply, readying myself for the journey I was about to take while my sister stayed in a castle. Sheltered.

"Come on, Miss Valmont," the chauffeur said, bowing slightly.

I made my way to the limousine, entering without taking a final look at Lunar Heights.

The moment I stepped inside, my skin prickled. My eyes went down immediately. There was a finality in the way the car door slammed closed.

There was no one else in the car except for *him*. The moment I stepped inside, I felt it—the suffocating weight of his presence. The car door slammed shut behind me with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. I kept my eyes down, trying to steady my breathing, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The silence between us was thick, oppressive. I didn't dare lift my gaze. There was no need; I could feel his eyes on me, cold and calculating, as if I were nothing more than an object to be assessed. My body trembled involuntarily, a response I couldn't control no matter how hard I tried.

I straightened my spine, forcing myself to channel Ellen—cold, unfeeling, and untouchable. I couldn't show weakness, not in front of him.

His gaze hadn't left me. The silence between us stretched on, oppressive and suffocating. Hades Stavros, the Lycan King, was the living embodiment of death. The air itself seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, thick with tension that bordered on unbearable.

"You look different," he finally spoke, his voice like ice—sharp and cutting. "Not as I imagined the daughter of Darius Valmont would."

There was no inflection, no curiosity—just a flat, indifferent observation. He didn't care how I looked; he only cared that something was off. My heart thudded in my chest, but I forced my face to remain impassive.

"I don't know what you expected," I replied, my voice hollow, devoid of any warmth. Ellen wouldn't care. Ellen wouldn't flinch. I had to be her.

He didn't respond immediately, but I felt his eyes on me, felt him dissecting every word, every breath I took. He shifted, the movement so subtle it barely made a sound, but I felt it like a ripple of energy through the confined space of the limousine.

"I expected a woman worthy of the Valmont name," he finally said, his tone colder than before, dripping with disdain. "Instead, I find… this."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, drawing blood. But I refused to react, refused to give him what he wanted. He was testing me. He had to be. I couldn't afford to break.

"I don't care about your expectations," I said quietly, the words barely louder than a whisper, but they cut through the air nonetheless.

His lips curled, not into a smile, but into something far more dangerous—a sneer, full of contempt and barely restrained cruelty. "Good. Because they're low."

Fangs. I noticed his elongated canines as he flashed his pristine teeth. My heart threatened to lodge in my throat, yet I didn't respond. I couldn't. My body screamed at me to react, to lash out, but I forced myself to remain still, to remain composed.

Hades shifted again, this time leaning forward, his presence suffocating as he drew closer, as if he wanted to crush me beneath the weight of his authority. "You can pretend all you want, Ellen," he whispered, his breath cold against my skin, "but I can smell your fear. You reek of it."

My heart pounded in my ears, my pulse quickening despite my attempts to calm it. He knew. He had to know. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

"You're trembling," he observed, his voice cruel, detached. It was a statement, not a question. He knew exactly what he was doing—he was toying with me, asserting his dominance without lifting a finger.

"I'm not," I lied, forcing the words out despite the tightness in my throat. But I could feel it in my bones—the tremor that betrayed me.

The silence that followed was worse than his words. It dragged on, endless and unbearable, until finally, he leaned back, satisfied with whatever game he was playing. He had gotten what he wanted—my fear, my weakness—and now he would use it against me.

"You'll need to be better than this, Ellen," he said quietly, his tone returning to that cold, indifferent calm. "Much better."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to lash out, to scream. But I couldn't. I had to survive this. I had to be her.

The rest of the drive was silent as we passed through the pack that used to be home. My body still ached with the aftermath of what the deltas had put me through, and I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a millennium, but I couldn't close my eyes. Not when he sat just across from me.

I kept my gaze fixed on the window as the limousine rolled away from the pack center, through the territories I thought I knew so well. Silverpine had always been a gleaming beacon—tall, imposing buildings, clean streets.

But as we moved further from the heart of the pack, the landscape shifted. I frowned as I took in the dilapidated houses and crumbling infrastructure. I leaned closer to the glass, my chest tightening. This couldn't be right.

Where I expected to see more cities, I found ruin. Rows of ramshackle shacks lined the streets, barely standing. The roads were cracked, littered with debris, and the people—there were so many of them—looked hollow, their faces gaunt, eyes vacant and desperate. Children ran barefoot, their clothes mere rags, while others lingered on street corners, staring listlessly at the passing cars.

A knot formed in my stomach, tightening with every mile. This couldn't be Silverpine. This couldn't be the same pack I had lived in.

My fingers dug into the leather seat as we passed seedy bars, where women in scant clothing stood, their eyes empty, gesturing to passing men. Fights erupted in broad daylight, but no one intervened. It was a world of its own, one no one ever spoke about.

A boy, no older than ten, ran to the window, his face smeared with dirt, eyes wide and hollow. He knocked on the glass, his mouth forming silent words. "Please," he mouthed. "Please, food."

Bile rose in my throat, the necklace around my neck weighing more than it had just a second ago. It would help. I took it off.

I was still unable to make sense of it, but I swallowed my fear and attempted to lower the window. But it wouldn't lower.

A cold laugh made my stomach lurch, and I tentatively turned to see Hades. I had not just imagined the sound. "You pity them now?" He raised a brow.

"I—"

I turned back. The boy was already out of view, just a small speck now. "I wanted to help."

Hades' cold laughter echoed in the enclosed space, low and mocking. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain as if the very word disgusted him. "Do you think a handful of pity will change anything here?"

I turned slowly, my pulse pounding in my ears as I met his gaze. His eyes, dark and void of any warmth, held me captive, trapping me in place as the weight of his presence pressed down on me like iron. There was nothing but cold calculation behind those eyes, an empty void where empathy should have been.

"I…" My voice faltered, my throat tightening as I struggled to form words. "I wanted to—"

"Don't," he cut me off sharply, his voice as chilling as a blade. He leaned forward, and I could feel the suffocating weight of his dominance fill the air between us again. "Don't awaken some misguided sense of righteousness now. It doesn't suit you."

I bit my lip.

"And anyway, what did you think would happen if you gave a child a gold necklace in these streets?"

That, I could answer. "He could buy food. He could share with his siblings, or his parents."

"He would be killed for it," Hades continued, his voice a flat, emotionless declaration of fact. "And the adults would rip your necklace out of his cold, lifeless hands."

The thought chilled me to the bone, freezing my heart in my chest. The necklace, which had seemed like such a small gesture, now weighed like a stone around my neck. I turned my head away from Hades, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, staring blankly at the passing ruins of what was once my home.

Thud.

The car jerked suddenly, hitting something with enough force to throw me forward slightly. I braced myself, my pulse spiking with a new kind of dread.

A soft mechanical whirring filled the car as a small window separating the front and back of the limousine slid down. The chauffeur's calm voice cut through the tension. "We have company," he informed Hades.

My eyes darted toward the front, my heart pounding in my chest. The air seemed to thicken with an entirely different kind of danger, one that crawled over my skin and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I leaned slightly to the side to catch a glimpse out the front windshield—and my blood ran cold.

Through the cracked and crumbling streets, shadows began to emerge. Figures—huge men, their eyes filled with murder and hunger—surrounded the car. Each one was armed, their weapons ranging from long, jagged blades to blunt, rusted clubs. Their clothes were tattered, but their faces were set in cold, brutal intent.

They proceeded towards us, their eyes locked on the limousine as if it were a meal they had been waiting for, starved and ravenous.

I couldn't move, my entire body frozen as the realization of what was happening crashed into me like a wave.

"They're surrounding the car," I whispered, my voice barely audible, fear tightening its grip around my throat.

Hades didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained locked on the men closing in around us, his expression unreadable, as though this kind of threat was as ordinary to him as breathing. He was the king—kings didn't fight. But this king looked poised for a battle.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice a low growl, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand reached toward the door handle, and for the first time since I'd stepped into the car, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze—a deadly readiness, as if he was welcoming the impending violence.

"Hades—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Stay." His tone left no room for argument, the raw authority in his voice rooting me to the seat.

The men outside started moving faster, closing the circle around the limousine. One of them raised a massive club, his eyes gleaming.

I swallowed hard, my palms clammy. My mind screamed at me to do something, to fight or flee, but I was pinned under the weight of fear and Hades' command.

Suddenly, Hades' eyes flickered toward me. "Don't even think of running, unless you want to be hunted down." His voice was calm, eerily so, considering the imminent danger.

Without another word, Hades opened the car door.