A sharp pounding jolts me from sleep, echoing through my room like a battering ram against the door.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I'm already scrambling out of bed before my groggy mind can register what's happening.
The pounding grows more insistent, and I stumble toward the door, still half-asleep.
"Who is it?" I call out, my voice hoarse from sleep. The scratchy sound of it is uncomfortable, and it makes me clear my throat to ease the feeling.
There's no response, just another round of banging. I twist the handle, opening the door, and before I can even see who it is, a small hand latches onto my arm and yanks me forward with surprising force.
"What the—" I start to protest, but I'm cut off by the sight of a petite girl, younger than me, her wild eyes burning with urgency.
Her grip is iron-clad, far too strong for someone of her size, and I wince as her fingers dig into my wrist.
"Hey! What's going on?" I demand, stumbling as she pulls me down the hallway.
She doesn't answer. She's smaller than me, but there's no mistaking the strength of a wolf in her veins. I might as well be a rag doll in her grasp.
"I said, let go!" I shout, trying to wrench my arm free, but it's no use.
Her silence is infuriating, and my frustration only grows as I become painfully aware of my state.
The thin nightdress I'd changed into after Caspian walked me to my room clings to my skin, fluttering lightly with the breeze from the hallways.
The fabric barely covers me, and as we move through the estate, I catch the stares of other pack members.
Some look at me with concern, others with open curiosity. My cheeks burn under their scrutiny.
"What are you doing?" I hiss at her. "Do you even realize what I'm wearing?"
At that, a tall woman steps into our path suddenly, and we both almost run into her before we slow down. She has a stern expression as she takes in my state.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asks the girl leading me. "She's practically naked! And dragging her like that along the halls? Goodness, I've seen more than I should. You need to get her something to cover up."
Heat crawls up my cheeks. She said she's seen more than she should. No doubt she's referring to the parts of me that the dress does very little to cover.
Chest and thighs for example.
The girl pauses, glancing at me for the first time. Her eyes widen for a split second as she takes in my disheveled appearance, but then her lips press into a firm line.
"I can't," she shakes her head. "The council's orders were clear. I'm to bring her immediately, as she is without delay. Doing that would delay and I have strict orders to deliver."
The woman hesitates, her gaze flicking between the girl and me. "You can't just—"
"I have my instructions," she snaps, with a note of finality.
The woman sighs but steps aside, muttering something under her breath.
I reason, if the girl, an omega can snap at the highborn looking lady like that, then it means two things.
The council is frightening enough to make her do something outrageous, or the lady isn't as highborn as I think.
But what does the council want with me?
The girl doesn't resume dragging me but keeps her bruising grip on my wrist, leading me toward the massive double doors of the throne room.
My heart pounds in my chest as I realize where we're headed.
"What does the council want with me?" I find the voice to ask.
She doesn't answer.
By the time we reach the doors, my wrist feels like it's been through a vice. She lets go abruptly, disappearing as quickly as she came.
I barely have a moment to catch my breath before one of the guards by the door grabs my arm—exactly where the girl had held it—and pulls me forward with just as much force.
"Wait!" I cry, trying to pull back. "What's going on?"
He doesn't answer either, his grip unyielding as he drags me into the throne room. There's a low hum of conversation inside that cuts off the moment I step through the doors.
All eyes turn to me.
I feel my blood run cold as I'm pulled to the center of the room. The weight of their gazes bears down on me, and I fight the urge to shrink into myself.
"Delilah?" Caspian's sharp, gray eyes lock onto mine from where he stands near the council table. There's a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly replaced by something harder. "What is she doing here?"
He glances around to everyone, puzzled. So he's not the one who sent for me, huh?
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Ethan steps forward. His voice carries through the room, calm but cutting.
"I sent for her."
Caspian's head snaps toward Ethan, and his eyes narrow. "You sent for her?"
"Yes," Ethan replies, unbothered by Caspian's growing anger.
Caspian takes a step toward him, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. "You don't make decisions like this without consulting me."
The tension in the room thickens, and one of the council members clears his throat. "Ethan, you've been overstepping your bounds lately," the man imputes in mild disapproval. "You may be the queen's nephew, but that doesn't give you the authority to act as if you're in charge here."
Ethan's jaw tightens, but he doesn't respond to the accusation. Instead, he turns his attention back to me.
"We need to question her," he shrugs, going on casually like Caspian isn't seconds away from ripping his head off his neck.
I feel my stomach drop. Question me? About what?
Caspian's gaze shifts back to me, and for a moment, his expression softens. Then his eyes flick downward, and his face hardens again.
"Do we not have clothes in this fucking estate? Get her something to wear!" he barks.
The guards scurry around and a jacket is quickly brought to me. I clutch it around myself like my life depends on it, trying to hide as much of my exposed skin as possible.
My face burns with humiliation, but I'm grateful for the cover.
Caspian turns back to Ethan, his voice cold. "What exactly do you want to question her about?"
Ethan steps closer to the council table. He flicks his hair over his shoulders and crosses his arms in front of him. "Goldencrest has never had a break-in before. Not until she showed up."
The room falls silent, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
"What?" I whisper, barely able to get the word out.
Ethan doesn't look at me still. His gaze is fixed on the council. "I want to know why she was awake at that time. Perhaps she had something to do with the rogues breaching the hedge. Afterall, she's a rogue."
Gasps ripple through the room, and I feel their eyes on me again, this time sharper, more accusing.
I try to speak, to defend myself, but my voice won't come. My throat feels tight, and the weight of their stares is suffocating.
I glance at Caspian, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but his attention is fixed on Ethan. His jaw is clenched, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Answer the question," Ethan urges, finally looking at me. His tone is detached, like I'm nothing more than a suspect to him.
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. My mind is a whirlwind of fear and confusion.
I look to Caspian again, desperate for something, anything, to ground me.
But when our eyes meet, I let out a sharp gasp.
He's staring at me with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs. His molten silver eyes pierce through me, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away.
What is he thinking?
What does he see when he looks at me like that?
A rogue? An omega? Or a pathetic human?