Chapter 6 A Gilded Cage

• The SUV winds up a long, private driveway, gravel crunching beneath its tires. I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as manicured gardens and ornate fountains scroll past. After twenty minutes of driving through dense forest, this sudden display of wealth and refinement is jarring.
• The vehicle comes to a stop in front of what can only be described as a mansion. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the imposing structure. Three stories of elegant stone and gleaming windows rise before me, the architecture a perfect blend of modern design and classic grandeur. It makes our pack house back home look like a cottage in comparison.
• Home. The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest. Somewhere out there, my aunt is being held captive because of me, and here I am, arriving at what looks like something out of a fairytale.
• I step out of the SUV, my legs stiff from the long ride. Instinctively, my eyes search for Anton, but he's already disappeared. Of course he has. The rejection stings anew, even though I should be used to it by now. He'd spent the entire journey in a separate vehicle, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me.
• I bite my bottom lip, forcing my expression to remain neutral even as emotions churn inside me. Abandonment. Annoyance. A bone-deep weariness that has nothing to do with physical exhaustion. The mate bond pulses like an open wound, making everything feel sharper, more raw.
• "Welcome to Emerald Estate."
• The voice startles me from my thoughts. A tall man with friendly brown eyes is walking down the mansion's front steps toward me. He's wearing casual clothes – jeans and a henley – but there's no mistaking the air of authority he carries. A Beta, definitely.
• What happens next catches me completely off guard. The man raises his hands and begins to sign.
• "I'm Dan, Anton's Beta. It's nice to meet you, Evelina."
• I stare at him, dumbfounded. Not only does he know I'm mute, but he knows sign language? My hands move almost of their own accord, forming a response.
• "You know sign language?"
• Dan's smile widens, and there's genuine warmth in it. "My mate was deaf," he explains, his signing fluid and natural. "She taught me. Passed away five years ago, but I've kept up with it. Helps me feel connected to her memory."
• The personal admission catches me off guard, and I feel some of my wariness fade. Before I can respond, he adds, "Anton told me about your situation. He wanted to make sure you'd have someone you could communicate with easily."
• The mention of Anton sends conflicting emotions through me. On one hand, I'm touched that he thought to arrange this. On the other... why bother, if he wants nothing to do with me?
• As Dan leads me toward the mansion, I notice something odd. The place is eerily quiet. No pack members milling about, no sounds of daily life. It doesn't feel like a pack house at all.
• "Where is everyone?" I sign, my movements betraying my confusion. "Shouldn't we be going to the pack house?"
• Dan's expression turns slightly apologetic. "This isn't the pack house. This is Anton's private residence. He's not much for crowds. He's always preferred his space."
• The implication of his words hits me like a physical blow. I'm going to be living here. With Anton. Just the two of us (and apparently his sister) in this massive house.
• My hands fly up, signing rapidly. "I'd prefer to stay at the pack house."
• Dan catches my hands gently, his expression sympathetic but firm. "I'm sorry, but that's not your choice to make. The Alpha has insisted you stay here where he can ensure your safety." He pauses, then adds, "I'll talk to him about it, though. See if we can work something out."
• His genuine concern helps ease some of my panic, but not much. A thought occurs to me, and I sign hesitantly, "What about mind linking? Can't I communicate that way?"
• The question seems to sadden Dan. "Anton mentioned you might ask about that. Can you not...?"
• I shake my head, frustration welling up inside me. "Even in my mind, I can't speak," I explain. "It's like... like there's a wall. I can hear others through the pack bond, but I can't respond. I'm just as silent there as I am here."
• Dan nods thoughtfully. "That must be incredibly frustrating," he signs, and the simple acknowledgment of my struggle, free from pity or judgment, makes my throat tight with unexpected emotion.
• "You get used to it," I sign back, even though we both know it's not entirely true. You never really get used to silence, to being cut off from parts of yourself. You just learn to live with it.
• Dan's about to respond when movement at the top of the stairs catches both our attention. And just like that, my momentary peace shatters.
• Because there, watching us with an unreadable expression, is Anton.
• Anton disappears inside before either Dan or I can acknowledge his presence, leaving behind only the lingering scent of pine and winter air. Dan pretends not to notice the awkward moment, gesturing for me to follow him into the mansion.
• The interior takes my breath away, though not entirely in a good way. Everything is pristine, expensive, and completely impersonal. Marble floors stretch out beneath my feet, their polished surface reflecting the light from crystal chandeliers above. The walls are adorned with abstract art pieces that probably cost more than my aunt's entire house.
• My aunt. The thought of her makes my chest ache. While I'm standing here in this palace, she could be anywhere, suffering who knows what at the hands of vampires. And it's all because of me.
• "Your room is upstairs," Dan signs, leading me toward a sweeping staircase. "We've already had your things brought up."
• My things? I didn't even know anyone had packed for me. The realization that others have been making decisions about my life without my input hits me again, and I have to fight back a wave of frustration.
• "EVELINA!"
• The excited shriek comes from above, and I look up to see Layla practically bouncing down the stairs. Her curly black hair is even wilder than I remember from this morning, and her gap-toothed smile is just as infectious.
• To my surprise, her hands start moving in familiar patterns. "I'm so happy you're here! Did you see the gardens? Aren't they pretty? Do you want to see your room? I helped pick out the colors!"
• I can't help but smile, remembering her mentioning her sign language classes earlier. Her signing is basic but enthusiastic, and the genuine warmth in her expression helps ease some of the tension in my shoulders.
• "Slow down, squirt," Dan signs and speaks simultaneously, chuckling. "Let her get settled first."
• But Layla is already grabbing my hand, tugging me up the stairs. "Come on! I want to show you everything!"
• I glance back at Dan, who just shrugs with an amused expression. "I'll leave you in Layla's capable hands," he signs. "She knows this place better than anyone."
• Layla leads me through the upper floor, chattering and signing about everything we pass. "This is Anton's office - we're not allowed in there. This is the library - you can read whatever you want! This is my room - see all my stuffed wolves? And this..." She throws open a door with a flourish. "This is your room!"
• The bedroom is beautiful, I have to admit. Soft cream walls, a king-sized bed with what looks like silk sheets, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. But like the rest of the house, it feels more like a hotel suite than a home.
• My new prison, no matter how gilded, is still a prison.
• "Do you like it?" Layla asks, her expression so hopeful that I can't bring myself to show my true feelings.
• I nod, signing, "It's beautiful. Thank you for helping choose the colors."
• Her face lights up. "Come on! I want to show you the living room. We can watch TV! Do you like cartoons? I love cartoons!"
• Before I can respond, she's pulling me back downstairs and into a spacious living room. The space is dominated by an enormous flat-screen TV and plush leather furniture. It's the first room I've seen that shows any signs of actual living - there are throw pillows scattered on the couch and a few toys tucked in the corner.
• "Please?" Layla begs, giving me puppy dog eyes that would put actual wolf pups to shame. "Just one show?"
• I should say no. I should be trying to figure out how to help my aunt, how to deal with Anton, how to handle this impossible situation I've found myself in. But Layla's innocent enthusiasm is like a balm to my frayed nerves, and I find myself nodding.
• We settle on the couch, Layla immediately curling up next to me like we've known each other forever. She puts on some animated show about magical wolves - the irony isn't lost on me - and begins a running commentary in a mix of speech and sign language.
• Despite my best efforts to stay alert and process everything that's happened, exhaustion begins to creep in. The events of the past twenty-four hours crash over me like a wave - the party, Kevin's betrayal, the vampire attack, meeting Anton, my aunt's kidnapping, the move here... it's all too much.
• My eyes grow heavy as Layla's chatter becomes a soothing background noise. The last thing I remember is thinking that at least one person in this house seems happy to have me here.
• I don't mean to fall asleep, but my body has other plans. The world fades away, and for a brief moment, I find peace in the darkness.
• Until the sound of the front door opening jolts me awake.
• His scent hits me first - pine and winter air, now tinged with something sharper. Anger? Frustration? I'm not sure, but it makes my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin.
• Before I can think better of it, I'm on my feet and walking toward the entrance. The mate bond pulls at me like a physical force, drawing me toward him even as my mind screams at me to turn around, to protect myself from more pain.
• Anton stands at the bottom of the stairs, his broad frame filling the space. Even in the dim light of the foyer, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his jaw. His cold blue eyes lock onto mine, and the intensity of his gaze steals my breath.
• My hands move instinctively, starting to form words, but I catch myself. He wouldn't understand them anyway. Instead, I force a smile, trying to be polite despite everything. We have to live together now, after all. Maybe we can at least be civil.
• His response shatters that hope instantly.
• "What are you doing awake, waiting for me?" His voice is arctic, sharp enough to cut. Each word drips with disdain, as if my mere presence offends him.
• I blink, taken aback by his hostility. My hands flutter uselessly at my sides as he takes another step closer. His scent envelops me, making it hard to think clearly. How can someone who's supposed to be my other half make me feel so small, so unwanted?
• "Let's get something straight," he continues, his tone hard as granite. "Being mates means nothing to me. I don't believe in mates, never have, never will."
• The words hit me like physical blows, each one precisely aimed to wound. My chest tightens until it's hard to breathe. The mate bond between us pulses with pain, as if it too is being rejected, denied, crushed under the weight of his declaration.
• Desperation makes me bold. I reach out and grab his phone from his hand - he's so surprised he doesn't stop me. The Face ID recognizes him as I hold it up, and I quickly open the notepad app, my fingers flying across the keyboard.
• "Do you want to reject me?" I type, turning the screen toward him. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
• His lips curl into a smile that holds no warmth, no kindness. "No, I'm not rejecting you." His voice drops lower, becoming almost venomous. "But you're going to wish I had."
• The tears spill over despite my best efforts. They trail down my cheeks as I stare at him, trying to understand how the universe could be so cruel. How could my mate, the person who's supposed to complete me, want to cause me pain?
• The silence between us stretches, heavy with all the words I can't say, all the questions I can't ask. I want to scream, to rage at him, to demand answers. Why is he doing this? What did I do to deserve such contempt? But I'm trapped in my silence, forced to stand there as he systematically tears down any hope I might have had.
• He steps past me, his presence leaving a cold void in its wake. My body trembles, though whether from pain or anger, I'm not sure anymore. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, trying to keep my silent sobs contained.
• His footsteps echo on the marble floor as he walks away, each one feeling like another nail in the coffin of what could have been. The darkness in his voice lingers in the air like poison, seeping into my skin, my bones, my heart.
• But as I stand there, tears falling freely now, something else stirs inside me. A spark of defiance, small but fierce. I may be mute, but I'm not powerless. I may be hurt, but I'm not broken. Not yet.
• I lift my chin, squaring my shoulders despite the pain radiating through my chest. Anton might not believe in mates, might want me to wish he'd rejected me, but I refuse to let him destroy me completely.
• The mate bond throbs between us like an open wound, raw and painful. But maybe that pain can be fuel, can be transformed into something stronger. Because I have bigger problems than a mate who doesn't want me. My aunt is still out there, somewhere, needing my help.
• And no matter what Anton thinks of me, no matter how much he tries to push me away, I won't let myself be reduced to nothing but an unwanted mate. I am more than that. I have to be.
• As I climb the stairs to my new room, each step feels heavy with resolution. I may be trapped here in this gilded cage with a mate who despises me, but I won't let it break me. I can't.
• Because somewhere out there, vampires are hunting me. My aunt is in danger because of me. And mate bond or not, I need to find a way to fix this mess.
• Even if I have to do it alone.