Sunlight spilled across the unfamiliar room, warm and golden, casting long streaks across the wooden floor. The scent of pine and something faintly smoky filled the air. The space was massive—vaulted ceilings, stone fireplace, thick furs, and dark timber beams that made it feel more like a hidden lodge than a home.
It was beautiful.
But Andrea wasn't admiring the view.
She sat up slowly, her body stiff, muscles aching from the night before. Every breath came with a sharp tug—like her ribs had been reshaped in her sleep. And then she felt it: fabric brushing against her skin.
She looked down.
Her clothes were different. A soft, nightgown she didn't recognize.
Her heart slammed into her chest.
They had changed her.
She clutched the blanket to her chest, shame and fury rising all at once. Her cheeks burned, and her stomach twisted.
Did they see me?
The idea made her want to scream. Or throw something. Or vanish.
She curled into herself, pulling the blanket tighter, eyes scanning the room for anything familiar. There was nothing—just the quiet hum of distant voices on the other side of the thick wooden door.
Those men. The ones from the forest.
The ones who'd said the word mate like it was sacred.
Andrea pressed a trembling hand to her chest. Everything in her still felt... wrong. Different. But not weak. Something simmered beneath her skin now, like power warming just under the surface, waiting.
But she couldn't think about that now.
She felt violated. Exposed. Helpless.
And that made her angry.
Furious, even.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood, still gripping the blanket around her. The moment her bare feet touched the floor, a jolt ran through her—like her body remembered the forest. The pain. The pull.
And them. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, steadying herself.
Then her eyes snapped open. They owe me answers.
The air outside the bedroom was thick with pressure. Three powerful Alpha sons, one fierce Queen Mother, and a sister who saw everything—waiting.
But before any of them could speak…
Click.
The door swung open.
All heads turned as Andrea stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and barefoot, wearing a silk nightgown that clung delicately to her frame. Her gaze darted between the three brothers and the unfamiliar faces outside. Her posture was tense—defensive—but unshaken.
"It's you," she said flatly, eyes locked on the three men who had changed her life in a single night.
She took one step forward, saw the Queen Mother, Ashley, Amalia, and the Beta standing beside them, and immediately backed up.
Then, without another word, she turned and shut the door with a firm snap.
Inside the room, she pressed her back to the door, heart racing.
Where am I? Who the hell are these people? That wasn't just the woods... and why are there so many of them?
Then she glanced down.
A soft, luxurious nightgown—barely mid-thigh.
She cursed under her breath. I can't escape in this. What the hell kind of cult kidnaps you and dresses you like a bride in a perfume ad?
Outside the door, the Queen Mother took a sharp breath, but Lionel raised a hand.
"We'll talk soon, Mother," he said, calm but firm. "Give us a moment. We'll answer your questions."
She gave him a long, unreadable stare before nodding once. "You'd better."
Lionel pushed the door open gently and stepped inside, followed by Joseph and Matthew. They closed it behind them, leaving the outside world—and its growing storm—at bay.
Andrea spun toward them, startled. "Stay right there! Don't come any closer!"
The Alphas froze.
Andrea's cheeks were flushed with color, a mix of embarrassment, anger, and anxiety sharpening her voice. "Who gave you the right to change me? Where are my clothes?"
Joseph lifted his hands, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "It wasn't us. One of the maids changed you."
"Oh." Andrea blinked, flustered. "Right. That makes it less weird."
"But for the record," Joseph added with a playful glint, "you look adorable."
Andrea groaned. "Great. Fantastic."
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and shot them a look. "Where am I? This isn't the forest."
Matthew stepped forward slightly, but not close enough to alarm her. "You're in the Pack Palace."
"The what?" Andrea stared.
"Our home," Lionel clarified gently. "This is our world."
Andrea raised her brows, eyes narrowing. "Your... pack?"
"Yes," Matthew said. "And you're safe here."
Lionel nodded toward the nearby sofa. "Can we sit and talk? You don't have to, but maybe—"
"Nope," Andrea said quickly. "I'll stand too. Thanks."
Joseph grinned. "As you wish."
Andrea drew in a breath and narrowed her eyes. "I want answers. Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?"
There was fire in her voice now. Bravery beneath the fear.
"And those eyes of yours," she added, waving a finger at them, "they don't exactly scream 'rescue team.' They say dark, twisted... possibly organ-stealing."
Joseph blinked. "I—what?"
"Yeah," Andrea said, deadly serious. "Mother Theresa used to say if I ever escaped the orphanage, people would capture me and sell my organs."
She took a step back, her voice cracking slightly. "I don't want to die. Please don't harvest anything, okay?"
There was a beat of silence.
Then Joseph burst out laughing.
Matthew chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Lionel's lips curved in a rare, amused smile.
Andrea frowned. "Why are you laughing?! This isn't funny!"
"We're not kidnappers," Lionel said gently. "Or black-market surgeons."
"I'm Lionel," he added, tone softening as he looked into her eyes.
"I'm Matthew," came the quiet second voice.
"And I'm Joseph," said the last, still grinning like he was trying not to enjoy this too much.
Andrea hesitated, then gave a cautious nod. "Andrea."
The sound of her name felt different when they said it, like it echoed inside them. A ripple across the bond that none of them fully understood yet.
And as she looked at them—really looked—she saw it.
The way they stood was just a bit too close. The way their eyes followed her every movement. The way desire flickered just beneath the surface.
They wanted her. And not just physically. But something deeper.
And that scared her more than the nightgown, the other people, or the pack palace ever could.