Hades~
I stood over her, watching as she squird and mumbled incoherently in her sleep, her brows drawn in a disturbed expression. I lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The soft glow cast faint, wavering shadows over her face as I stood by the window, watching her. She was curled up on the small settee, looking far too fragile, clutching that damn sketchpad like it was her lifeline. Her lips moved, words slipping out in fragnts, tangled in whatever dreams or nightmares haunted her. The restless rise and fall of her chest, the small tremors of her body—it all betrayed a vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.
I took another drag, letting the smoke swirl and dissipate around , filling the silence with a faint, smoky haze. In the quiet of the room, with her soft breathing and occasional murmurs, I felt that old ache—that bitter, relentless mory of what I'd lost, of what she had stumbled into tonight without permission. She'd ripped open a wound I'd spent years burying, one that had scarred over but never fully healed. I touched the earring on my ear.
My gaze drifted to her sketchpad lying open on her lap, faint lines sketched across the page, barely visible in the dim light. A part of wanted to look closer, to see what she'd drawn or written in those frenzied strokes. But I stayed back, letting the cigarette burn low between my fingers, its embers flaring with each quiet drag.
I told myself it was simple anger that had pushed to grab her, to press her against that wall and show her the boundaries she'd so carelessly crossed. But watching her now, curled up like this, I felt sothing else—an uncomfortable, nagging sensation that tugged at the edges of my fury. It was a familiarity, a twisted reflection of my own pain, mirrored in the way she held herself, in the raw guilt and sha that had bled from her voice.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, and her hand moved instinctively, clutching the blanket tighter. She shivered, her face drawn and tense even in sleep. Her breathing hitched, a faint whimper escaping, and I knew her dreams were anything but gentle tonight, as usual.
The cigarette was down to its last bit, the ember glowing dangerously close to my fingers. I ground it out with a swift motion, eyes never leaving her as I took a step closer, drawn by sothing I didn't fully understand or want to acknowledge. She was suffering—or so I theorized. But I believed she had been for a long ti. There were too many signs. Yet, it could all be a part she played to serve a purpose for Silverpine. It was still a possibility. The truth was yet to be known.
My carefully laid plans had been disrupted by the occurrences surrounding her, and now I could say I knew nothing about her. No recorded phone calls, security caras compromised, phone itself decimated. And for the first ti since that fateful night five years ago, I wasn't sure what was going on.
She was an enigma in every sense of the word. I found myself asking again and again: who exactly was Ellen Valmont, and why was she nothing like I'd ever expected? Defiant, brave...kind. It made no sense.
On top of that, she was wolfless. So many unanswered questions, theory upon theory. I fancied puzzles, but this was another thing entirely. By this ti next year, Operation Eclipse would be completed. The aftermath would leave only Obsidian Pack standing while Silverpine would have to be erased. But that was only if the blessed twin awakened what I needed. Ellen had to be ready to be wielded like the weapon that she was.
But how could I handle a weapon that seed to have a will of its own, a mind that questioned and rebelled rather than yielded? Ellen was ant to be a pawn, a tool I could shape to suit my plans for Silverpine and Obsidian. She was supposed to be predictable, straightforward, malleable. Yet here she was, defying everything I thought I understood about her, slipping through my grasp like smoke.
I recalled the resignation in her eyes when I held her to the wall. There had been no upturned nose, no frown, no icy glare. Only hurt and acceptance.
The mory twisted sothing in my chest that I pushed away. I sighed, the irritation settling in my chest as I bent down, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. Her body tensed instinctively at the touch, but as I lifted her, her head lolled against my shoulder, her breathing deepening once more.
Her scent was overwhelming up close—a soft, warm blend of honey and lavender that lingered in the air, wrapping itself around like a subtle trap. It sank into my skin, clinging to even as I crossed the room with her in my arms. I could feel it in my lungs, threading itself through my thoughts, as though it were sohow imprinted into her very essence.
Ellen's head nestled against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. I cursed inwardly, feeling my control slip with each step toward the bed. I'd faced armies and storms, worlds of chaos and conquest, but nothing had prepared for the calm yet maddening weight of her in my arms. She was so small, so damn fragile. The sharp edge of my irritation softened, blunted by an ache I couldn't quite place.
I laid her down on the bed gently, careful not to wake her. She murmured sothing unintelligible, clutching at the blankets, her fingers curling around the fabric as if it were a lifeline. She looked almost peaceful, her features softened by the shadows that played across her face, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that belied the storm brewing in her mind.
But as I pulled the blanket over her, a faint crease appeared between her brows, and her hand reached out, grasping at the empty air as if searching for sothing. I hesitated, my hand hovering over hers, torn between the urge to pull away and the need to reassure her—an impulse I couldn't quite understand. I was a traitor, it seed, even more than Cain had been. It was a betrayal to Danielle's mory. It would all be worth it. It had to be.
The scent of her lingered, filling the quiet space between us. It was all-consuming, weaving into the cracks of my resolve, softening edges I'd honed over years of careful detachnt. I closed my eyes, taking a steadying breath before straightening, forcing myself to step back, putting space between us.
I watched her for a mont longer, my gaze lingering on the lines of her face, the faint flicker of her eyelids as she drifted deeper into sleep. I wanted to bla her, to lay the fault squarely at her feet for stirring sothing in I'd buried long ago. But in this mont, in the stillness of the room, I found myself unwilling to turn away.
My fingers brushed against the earring once more, a habit born of regret and mory, before I turned, letting the shadows swallow whole. Ellen would awaken in her own ti, and when she did, she would be a weapon forged, honed, and wielded at my will. That was the plan—one I would see through to the end, regardless of the quiet ache settling deep within .
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Eve~
Weeks passed by in a blur as I recuperated steadily. Painting took most of my ti, and journaling helped resist screaming in the dead of night because of the nightmares. So I believed were mories, others were just too outlandish to have ever happened.
Despite sleeping in the sa room, the distance between and Hades was as insurmountable as it should be. We barely spoke, and he spent most hours in his office. I hadn't seen Felicia, which was a relief, but it hurt not to see shy little Ellie.
One early morning, I was working on a piece, Hades already out of bed, when the door swung open. I turned to see soone who wasn't Mrs. Miller.
"Good morning, Your Highness," the girl, who couldn't have been more than five years older than , greeted with a wide smile. She was ginger like Mrs. Miller, a smattering of freckles on her face.
Her cheerful greeting startled from my morning haze, and I blinked at her, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I set down my brush. I wasn't used to seeing anyone here besides Mrs. Miller or the occasional guard, and this girl's warm smile seed so out of place in the somber walls of Hades' estate.
"Good morning," I replied, a bit hesitant. I wasn't sure who she was or why she was here, but she seed genuinely happy to see . Her deanor was refreshing—an open brightness that felt worlds apart from the cold formality I'd grown accustod to in this place.
She stepped further into the room. "I'm Jules," she introduced herself. "I am Mrs. Miller's niece, and while she's out, I'll be replacing her." Her smile didn't falter, and I began to doubt if she knew what I was.
"Hello," I greeted, getting up. I walked up to her and stretched out a hand for a handshake.
She grabbed my hand without a mont of hesitation, and before I could react, she pulled in for a hug, startling out of my wits. "It's lovely eting a werewolf in the flesh!" she exclaid.
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