Zara was still standing in the middle of the main room, staring at a house that didn't fit her image of a werewolf at all.
She'd expected Alaric's home to be filled with bones, blood, or something terrifying.
But the reality was the exact opposite.
The house was quiet.
Clean.
Warm.
There was even a faint coffee aroma lingering in the air.
Zara turned toward Alaric, who was sitting in a chair near the fireplace. He looked perfectly calm after the fight moments ago, as if three Grimclaw wolves hadn't been much of a threat.
Alaric cleaned the wound on his arm with a cloth.
Zara watched his movements.
“It's pretty deep.”
“No.”
“It looks deep.”
“No.”
Zara sighed.
“Are all your answers this short?”
Alaric looked up.
“You ask too many questions.”
Zara fell silent.
She turned her face away and puffed out her cheeks.
“Fine.”
Alaric went back to tending his wound.
Several seconds passed.
Silence.
Zara began to feel uncomfortable.
She looked around.
Her eyes stopped on the bookshelf that covered nearly the entire wall.
There were so many books.
Some of them looked ancient. Their covers were made of dark leather marked with strange symbols Zara had never seen before.
Zara rose from the sofa.
Alaric immediately turned toward her.
“Sit.”
Zara stopped.
“I just want to look at the books.”
“Sit.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
Zara stared at him in disbelief.
“Do you always order people around like that?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you live alone.”
Alaric fell silent.
Zara realized what she'd said.
She swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
There was no answer.
Instead, Alaric stared at her for a long moment.
Strange.
For some reason, that simple apology felt as if it had touched something he didn't want to remember.
He looked away.
“Sit.”
This time, Zara obeyed.
She returned to the sofa.
Alaric finished bandaging his arm, then stood.
“I'll prepare a room.”
Zara immediately turned toward him.
“A room?”
“You can't sleep on the sofa.”
“Then can I stay here?”
Alaric stopped.
His gaze turned cold.
“No.”
Zara blinked.
“But you just said I can't sleep on the sofa.”
“Because I don't want to hear you complain all night.”
“I won't complain.”
“You've already started.”
Zara opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
This man was seriously annoying.
Alaric walked toward the stairs.
Zara followed him.
“Then where am I supposed to sleep?”
“In the guest room.”
“Oh.”
Zara smiled in relief.
At least she wouldn't have to sleep outside.
But as she climbed the stairs, a question suddenly occurred to her.
“Alaric.”
The man didn't stop.
“Yes?”
“In a house this big, are you really the only one who lives here?”
Alaric's footsteps stopped.
“For now.”
“Why?”
“Because I like it.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Zara frowned.
“Don't you get lonely?”
Alaric turned around.
Their eyes met.
“No.”
His answer was so firm that Zara didn't dare continue.
And yet there was something in Alaric's eyes that made her feel the answer wasn't entirely true.
The guest room was on the second floor.
The room was simple, but comfortable.
A large bed stood in the middle of the room. There was a wooden wardrobe, a small table, and a large window overlooking the trees.
Zara walked toward the window.
The forest looked different from here.
Dark.
Silent.
And incredibly vast.
She took a deep breath.
Then touched her chest.
Her heart was still pounding whenever she thought about what had happened earlier.
Three wolves.
One of them had transformed into a man.
Then Alaric had appeared and defeated them.
Zara had never imagined that the world she'd always known concealed something like this.
“Don't open the window.”
Zara jumped.
She turned around.
Alaric stood in the doorway.
“Why?”
“Because the barrier around the house is unstable right now.”
Zara remembered something.
“You said earlier that your barrier was damaged?”
Alaric looked at her.
“Who told you that?”
“No one. I heard you talking to a man named Troy before everything happened.”
Alaric didn't answer.
Zara grew even more curious.
“Who is Troy?”
“Someone who works for me.”
“Is he a werewolf too?”
“Yes.”
“Moonforge?”
Alaric nodded.
Zara walked closer to him.
“So there are still a lot of werewolves in this forest?”
“Not many.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
Zara sighed.
“You really don't like answering questions, do you?”
“No.”
Zara snorted.
“Fine.”
Alaric was about to leave.
But Zara suddenly called out to him.
“Alaric.”
The man stopped.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
Alaric turned around.
Zara gave him a small smile.
“For saving me.”
Alaric didn't answer.
Instead, his gaze lingered on Zara's face.
That smile.
For some reason, it bothered him.
It was too warm.
Too bright for a house that had been filled with nothing but silence for years.
Alaric quickly looked away.
“Go to sleep.”
He closed the door.
Zara stared at it for a few moments.
Then she smiled to herself.
“So cold.”
On the other side of the door, Alaric stood motionless.
He could hear Zara's footsteps.
He could hear her heartbeat.
He could even smell the girl's scent through the door.
Alaric clenched his fists.
That scent stirred his instincts.
This wasn't normal.
He'd met plenty of humans.
Not one of them had ever smelled like Zara.
And worse—
his wolf liked that scent.
The night grew late.
Zara didn't go to sleep right away.
She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about her little brother.
That thin face appeared in her mind again.
The small body growing weaker by the day.
Her brother's hand, which had already become difficult to move.
Zara gripped the blanket.
“I have to find Emberrose.”
She couldn't forget her original purpose.
She hadn't come to this forest to meet werewolves.
She hadn't come to get to know Alaric.
She'd come for her little brother.
Zara stood.
She slowly opened the bedroom door.
The hallway outside was dark.
She followed the light from downstairs.
When she reached the main room, Zara saw Alaric sitting alone in front of the fireplace.
An open book rested in his hands.
A cup of coffee sat on the table.
Zara smiled faintly.
She came down the stairs.
Alaric didn't look up.
“Go back to your room.”
“I'm not sleepy yet.”
“Not my problem.”
Zara sat in the chair across from him.
“I want to ask you something.”
Alaric sighed.
“Again?”
“Where can I find Emberrose?”
Alaric's fingers stopped turning the page.
For the first time that night, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Zara noticed.
“You know?”
Alaric closed his book.
“Why are you looking for it?”
“For my little brother.”
“Is he sick?”
Zara nodded.
“He's been sick for a long time.”
“And you're sure that flower can cure him?”
“The doctors said it could.”
Alaric stared at her for a few moments.
Then stood.
“Go to sleep.”
Zara frowned.
“Answer me first.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because night isn't the right time to talk about the forest.”
Alaric walked away.
Zara stared at the man's back.
“Alaric.”
He stopped.
“Thank you for saving me.”
Alaric didn't turn around.
But this time, his voice sounded slightly lower.
“Don't make me save you a second time.”
Zara smiled faintly.
She didn't know that beneath his cold demeanor, Alaric had begun thinking about one thing.
Emberrose.
The flower did exist.
And Alaric knew exactly where it grew.
But he also knew something Zara didn't.
To reach that place, the human girl would have to pass through the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest.
A place that wasn't even safe for ordinary werewolves.
And if Grimclaw had truly managed to breach his barrier—
letting Zara go search for the flower alone would be no different from sending her to her death.