Chapter 7: A Web of Secrets
Celia couldn't sleep.
Even as she lay in the massive bed that had become her prison, her mother's warning echoed in her mind.
"Run before he finds you."
But wasn't it already too late?
Damon had already claimed her as his mate.
The bond between them was undeniable, a force pulling her toward him even when every instinct screamed at her to run.
She clenched the letter in her hand, her heart pounding as she debated her next move.
She needed answers, but Damon was a dangerous man.
A predator masked in charm.
And yet, when he had looked at her tonight, there had been no deception in his eyes when he said he knew nothing of the letter.
Either he was a master liar… or he truly didn't know the full extent of the secrets surrounding her.
Celia sat up, her gaze darting toward the wooden chest.
There were more papers inside, documents that could reveal the truth about her past.
She had barely scratched the surface.
Glancing toward the door, she strained her ears.
The pack house was quiet, the deep stillness of the night settling in.
If she wanted to uncover more, now was her chance.
Slipping from the bed, she padded across the room and knelt before the chest.
Carefully, she untied the fragile ribbon and spread the documents before her.
One caught her eye immediately—a faded parchment bearing an unfamiliar crest.
She traced the emblem with her fingers, a strange sensation washing over her.
It was as though she knew this symbol, as though it was embedded in her very soul.
As she scanned the words written beneath it, her breath hitched.
"The rightful heir… hidden in secrecy… the blood of the first Alpha… a union foretold…"
Her hands trembled.
Was this why Damon wanted her?
A noise behind her made her jump.
Before she could react, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist, jerking her away from the papers.
She gasped, twisting around to see Killian, Damon's Beta, towering over her.
His usually composed face was unreadable, but his grip was firm.
"You shouldn't be snooping, Celia," he murmured, his voice dangerously low.
Her pulse ,loud.
"Let me go," she hissed, trying to wrench her arm free.
Killian didn't release her.
Instead, his gaze flicked down to the parchment.
His expression darkened.
"So… you found it," he said, almost to himself.
"Found what?" Celia demanded.
Killian exhaled sharply, then met her eyes with a look that made her stomach tighten.
"You don't understand, Celia. You were never meant to be just Damon's mate. You were meant to be his queen."
Her blood turned to ice.
"What…?"
Killian released her, his jaw tightening.
"You need to leave before it's too late," he muttered, stepping back.
Celia's thoughts raced.
Queen?
What did that even mean?
Damon had told her nothing about this.
He had only claimed her as his mate, had spoken of destiny and bonds.
But a queen?
That was something far more dangerous, far more permanent.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Killian hesitated, his gaze flickering to the doorway as if expecting someone to appear at any moment.
"Because if you stay, you'll be trapped in something far worse than you can imagine."
A chill ran down her spine.
But before she could process his words, the door burst open.
And there stood Damon.
His dark eyes burned into hers as he took in the scene before him—Celia kneeling on the floor, ancient documents scattered around her, Killian standing too close.
The storm in his gaze was lethal.
"Celia," Damon said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Her breath caught in her throat.
Something in his tone sent a shiver down her spine.
It wasn't just anger.
It was something deeper, something possessive.
She had crossed a line.
And Damon knew it.
Killian took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
He didn't speak, but the tension in the room was suffocating.
Celia swallowed hard, her mind racing for an excuse.
"I… I just wanted to understand," she said, forcing herself to hold Damon's gaze.
His jaw tightened.
"Understand what?"
She hesitated, glancing at the parchment.
"The truth."
For a long moment, Damon didn't move.
Then, with slow, measured steps, he advanced toward her.
Killian shifted slightly, as if preparing to intervene, but one look from Damon stopped him in his tracks.
Damon crouched before Celia, his fingers brushing over the parchment.
His expression remained unreadable as his eyes flicked over the ancient words.
Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"You should have come to me," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft.
Her heart pounded.
"And if I had?" she whispered.
Damon's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Then you wouldn't have had to learn the truth this way."