MARKED FOR PRETEND - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading MARKED FOR PRETEND, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of MARKED FOR PRETEND.
Not a single word was uttered when the gates of Duskveil creaked open.
Everyone was waiting for him;that much was obvious
Guards stood at attention in disciplined rows and the palace staff straightened in uniform. Even the Elders assembled on the front steps, cloaked in ceremonial gray robes, their expression unreadable. They all anticipated the Alpha’s return
What they had not anticipated… was her.
As Chelsea stepped down from the carriage, the air shifted, snapping like a long-held secret breaking loose.
The whispers didn’t creep—they burst.
“Is that—?”
“But he’s never brought anyone—”
“He claimed her?”
“She has no scent…”
“Is she even a wolf?”
Chelsea lifted her chin, standing tall even as their eyes sliced into her like blades. She didn’t falter. Not even when one of the Elders instinctively stepped back.
She was not adorned in silk or precious metals, nor did she gleam like the polished image of a Luna.
But her presence,her very mark,resonated louder than any title.
And Kaden?
He remained silent.
No words.
No introduction.
No explanation.
He just walked.
And she followed, because Chelsea couldn’t tell if this place was about to devour her completely or finally answer why it had calling her name all her life.
Stepping into Duskveil felt like crossing a line no one ever came back from.
The air wasn’t colder, it was just heavier,laden with something more: Memory
Chelsea’s boots echoed behind him along the long corridor. No guards. No council. No Luna.
Just her and the Alpha.
This wasn’t just a pack house;It was a stronghold.
And it was watching her.
She could feel it in the flickering torches, the crooked tilt of the paintings,and the marble floors seemes almost..alive
“You will stay in the East Wing,” Kaden said, without so much as a glance.
That was all. No greeting. No rules.
Just cold hard facts.
Claimed, but still a stranger; still an outsider .
“Do your halls always stare back at people?” she asked under her breath.
Kaden paused but didn’t turn.
“They remember things.”
“Things like me?”
“Older things.”
By the time they reached the East Wing, a maid was waiting.
Not bright-eyed or cheerful. No, this woman looked like she had once taken down a rogue with a candlestick and would not hesitate to do it again.
“This way,” she said flatly.
Chelsea hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder.
Kaden was still there, watching her with that same icy, unreadable gaze.
Not warmth. Not pride.
Not affection.
A warning.
Then he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Her new quarters were unusual.
Elegant? Yes.
Spacious? Certainly.
But cold.
Muted tones. A bed arranged too precisely. A mirror that bent her reflection ever so slightly.
There was a study door..locked.
And a silver wolf crest on the wall… split straight down the middle.
She touched the mark on her arm beneath her sleeve. It hadn’t burned since the ride in the carriage, but now it tingled.
That night, she tried to sleep.But at 2:17 a.m., she heard it.
A whisper.
Not from outside, Not in a dream, But from within the wall.
“Chelsea.”
She jolted upright.
“Who’s there?” No reply.
Just the whisper of wind… and the faint groan of the locked door behind her.
You don’t belong here, the air seemed to whisper.
But you were always meant to come.
Everyone was waiting for him;that much was obvious
Guards stood at attention in disciplined rows and the palace staff straightened in uniform. Even the Elders assembled on the front steps, cloaked in ceremonial gray robes, their expression unreadable. They all anticipated the Alpha’s return
What they had not anticipated… was her.
As Chelsea stepped down from the carriage, the air shifted, snapping like a long-held secret breaking loose.
The whispers didn’t creep—they burst.
“Is that—?”
“But he’s never brought anyone—”
“He claimed her?”
“She has no scent…”
“Is she even a wolf?”
Chelsea lifted her chin, standing tall even as their eyes sliced into her like blades. She didn’t falter. Not even when one of the Elders instinctively stepped back.
She was not adorned in silk or precious metals, nor did she gleam like the polished image of a Luna.
But her presence,her very mark,resonated louder than any title.
And Kaden?
He remained silent.
No words.
No introduction.
No explanation.
He just walked.
And she followed, because Chelsea couldn’t tell if this place was about to devour her completely or finally answer why it had calling her name all her life.
Stepping into Duskveil felt like crossing a line no one ever came back from.
The air wasn’t colder, it was just heavier,laden with something more: Memory
Chelsea’s boots echoed behind him along the long corridor. No guards. No council. No Luna.
Just her and the Alpha.
This wasn’t just a pack house;It was a stronghold.
And it was watching her.
She could feel it in the flickering torches, the crooked tilt of the paintings,and the marble floors seemes almost..alive
“You will stay in the East Wing,” Kaden said, without so much as a glance.
That was all. No greeting. No rules.
Just cold hard facts.
Claimed, but still a stranger; still an outsider .
“Do your halls always stare back at people?” she asked under her breath.
Kaden paused but didn’t turn.
“They remember things.”
“Things like me?”
“Older things.”
By the time they reached the East Wing, a maid was waiting.
Not bright-eyed or cheerful. No, this woman looked like she had once taken down a rogue with a candlestick and would not hesitate to do it again.
“This way,” she said flatly.
Chelsea hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder.
Kaden was still there, watching her with that same icy, unreadable gaze.
Not warmth. Not pride.
Not affection.
A warning.
Then he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Her new quarters were unusual.
Elegant? Yes.
Spacious? Certainly.
But cold.
Muted tones. A bed arranged too precisely. A mirror that bent her reflection ever so slightly.
There was a study door..locked.
And a silver wolf crest on the wall… split straight down the middle.
She touched the mark on her arm beneath her sleeve. It hadn’t burned since the ride in the carriage, but now it tingled.
That night, she tried to sleep.But at 2:17 a.m., she heard it.
A whisper.
Not from outside, Not in a dream, But from within the wall.
“Chelsea.”
She jolted upright.
“Who’s there?” No reply.
Just the whisper of wind… and the faint groan of the locked door behind her.
You don’t belong here, the air seemed to whisper.
But you were always meant to come.
End of MARKED FOR PRETEND Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to MARKED FOR PRETEND book page.