Chapter Sixteen - Something More - Maya's POV

I take a deep breath, stand, and straighten my shirt. If Damian thinks I'll just stay in the dark, he's wrong. I don't know what I'm looking for, but the feeling that discovering the truth is the only way I'll ever regain control gnaws at me. I leave the dining hall and walk down the hallway, retracing my steps. The sunlight filtering through the tall windows does little to ease the unease creeping over me. The mansion feels too quiet, as if it's holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. When I reach the corner where I first heard the whine, I slow. My pulse quickens as I approach the door I opened earlier. It's shut now, just as Damian must have left it. I press my ear against the door, holding my breath, listening for any sound. Nothing. My hand hovers over the doorknob, trembling slightly. Part of me knows this is a bad idea. If Damian catches me, who knows how he'll react? But the need for answers overpowers my fear. I turn the knob slowly, the faint creak of the latch making my heart jump. The room is empty. The curtains are still drawn, and the dim light makes it hard to see the details, but the wolf is gone. The air is heavier here, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood. My gaze darts to the corner where the wolf had been, and I notice a dark stain on the rug. I step inside cautiously, my eyes scanning the room for any clues. The furniture is sparse. It's just a low sofa, a worn table, and a single chair. On the table, a folded cloth stained red confirms what I already suspect. The wolf had been injured. What is Damian hiding? A faint sound behind me makes me spin around, my heart leaping into my throat. The door is still ajar, but the hallway beyond is empty. I exhale shakily, but the sense of being watched doesn't fade. I turn back to the table, my fingers brushing over the stained cloth. My mind races with questions. Who or what was the wolf? I don't have the answers yet, but I'm going to find them. I leave the room and close the door softly behind me, my mind racing with questions I can't even begin to answer. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I force myself to stay calm. The last thing I need is to run into Damian, or anyone else, and let them see how shaken I am. But I can't stop thinking about that wolf. The way it looked at me, the intelligence in its eyes, and the blood on its fur. And now, the empty room with its faint metallic scent and the stained cloth left behind. It all points to something I'm not supposed to know. My footsteps echo down the hallway as I head toward the grand staircase. The mansion seems even larger in the daylight, the intricate woodwork and sprawling halls giving it an air of quiet power. But it's the kind of power that whispers secrets and lies. I pause near the staircase, gripping the polished banister as I glance around. The house is silent, but it's not empty. I feel the weight of unseen eyes and the quiet hum of something just out of reach, staring at me. 'Get a grip," I mutter under my breath, forcing myself to move. I descend the stairs quickly, the sound of my steps breaking the silence. As I reach the bottom, I spot Evelyn stepping out of the dining hall, carrying a tray with the remains of my untouched breakfast. She catches sight of me and raises an eyebrow. 'You didn't eat much," she says, her tone light but pointed. 'I wasn't very hungry," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. Evelyn doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press the issue. Instead, she gestures toward the hallway leading to the back of the house. 'If you're looking for something to do, the library's just down that way. Might help take your mind off things." I force a smile. 'Thanks. I might check it out." As she disappears into the kitchen, I hesitate, glancing toward the hallway she pointed out. The library sounds tempting, like an escape into something normal, but I can't shake the pull to keep digging. And I'll probably get in trouble doing so. Damian has made it clear there are things he doesn't want me to know. And now that I've stumbled onto one of them, it's impossible to let it go. I turn away from the library and head toward the east wing, the same direction Damian came from when he found me by the wolf's door. My gut tells me that whatever he's hiding, the answers are somewhere in that part of the house. The hallway grows darker as I walk, and the sconces on the wall grow farther apart. The air feels heavier here. I pass a series of closed doors, each one identical to the last. I reach out to touch one of the handles but stop myself, the memory of Damian's sharp voice cutting through my thoughts. 'Not a place for you." The warning rings in my ears, but it only fuels my curiosity. What isn't meant for me? What does he think I can't handle? I reach the end of the hallway and find myself in front of a double door that looks different from the rest. The wood is darker, the carvings along the frame more intricate, and the air around it seems colder. My hand hovers over the handle, hesitation warring with determination. If Damian catches me, there'll be a price to pay. But the pull is undeniable. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open. The room beyond is vast and dimly lit, with tall shelves lining the walls, filled with objects that look as old as the mansion itself. Books, relics, and strange artifacts clutter the space, the air thick with dust and something else. In the center of the room stands a large table, its surface covered in open books, maps, and symbols that look eerily familiar. I step closer, my heart pounding as I scan the table. One of the books catches my eye, its worn leather cover bearing a symbol I don't recognize but feel drawn to. I reach out, my fingers brushing against the pages. Before I can open it, a low growl rumbles from the shadows. I freeze, my hand hovering over the book as my eyes dart toward the sound. From the darkness at the far end of the room, something moves. It's a flash of dark fur, the glint of glowing amber eyes. The wolf. It's here. My breath hitches as the wolf steps into the faint light, its movements slow and deliberate. Its gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged. It doesn't attack or growl again. It only watches me. And as I stare back, a strange thought creeps into my mind. It knows me. I don't understand how or why, but in that moment, I feel it as clearly as the fear coursing through me. This wolf isn't just an animal. It's something more. Something connected to me in a way I can't explain.