Falling For The Demon Wolf Chapter 19: Shackles In Disguise

I left the dining hall as soon as I could, gripping the tray tightly as I stepped back into the bustling kitchen. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling at, a stark contrast to the icy presence I’d just escaped from.

The mont I placed the tray down, one of the older won, a broad-shouldered wolf with graying hair, waved a hand at dismissively.

"Done with the Alpha’s al? Good. Now take those scraps outside."

I blinked. "Outside?"

She jerked her chin toward a smaller doorway at the far end of the kitchen. "To the pens. The wolves get the leftovers. You’ll be doing that from now on."

The wolves.

I wasn’t sure if she ant actual animals or if I’d be throwing food to the shifters who lived on the outskirts of this damned castle. Either way, it didn’t matter. Work was work. And I needed to learn this place inside and out if I ever hoped to escape.

Wordlessly, I grabbed the wooden bucket filled with discarded at and half-eaten scraps and made my way outside.

The mont I stepped into the open air, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease—just slightly. The sun was still high, casting golden light over the training grounds in the distance where wolves sparred, their movents fluid and lethal.

I turned away quickly, keeping my focus on the path ahead.

The pens were set behind a wooden fence, tucked near the forest’s edge. As I approached, a few massive wolves lifted their heads, their glowing eyes sharp with interest.

I swallowed hard.

They weren’t just animals. They were pack mbers in their shifted forms. And they were watching .

I clenched my jaw and tossed the first chunk of at over the fence. One of the wolves snapped it up instantly, eyes never leaving mine.

Another piece. Then another.

I moved quickly, trying to ignore the way their stares burned into .

"You’re braver than I expected."

The voice made freeze.

It was smooth, but not as deep as Zain’s. When I turned, I found myself staring at a tall figure leaning against the fence.

Gerald.

His dark brown eyes held sothing unreadable, his posture relaxed, though I knew better than to trust that.

"I’m just doing my job," I muttered, tossing the last piece of food over before brushing my hands on my tunic.

His lips twitched slightly. "Is that what you call it?"

I stiffened.

"Or is it just another form of captivity?" he continued, tilting his head slightly. "Because that’s what it looks like to ."

I t his gaze head-on. "You say that like you care."

"I don’t," he admitted easily. "But it’s interesting, watching you pretend you’re not already plotting sothing."

My pulse kicked up.

He knew.

Of course, he did. These wolves could sll deceit as easily as they could scent blood in the water.

I forced my expression into sothing neutral. "Believe what you want."

Gerald humd, pushing off the fence. "Oh, I do. And I believe you’re going to be quite the problem."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving standing there with the weight of his words pressing into my chest.

He wasn’t wrong.

But what he didn’t know?

I was more than just a problem.

I was a storm waiting to break.

Turning my attention back to the wolves, I watched as the last of the wolves tore into the discarded at, their glowing eyes flickering in the dying light. Sothing about it didn’t sit right with .

These weren’t mindless animals. They were warriors, pack mbers. So why the hell were they being fed like strays?

I wiped my hands on my tunic, frowning.

Were they being punished? Cast out? Or was this just how things worked in Zain’s pack?

I didn’t know much about werewolf hierarchy beyond what my father had taught —most of which boiled down to kill first, ask questions never. But even I knew that a pack’s strength relied on its warriors.

And yet, these wolves were eating scraps.

Leftovers.

Like they were barely worth feeding at all.

I took a slow step back, glancing around. No one else seed to be watching, not even Gerald, who had disappeared into the castle after delivering his cryptic warning.

That ant I was alone.

I should’ve left. I should’ve turned and walked away before anyone decided I was worth questioning.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I crouched near the fence, watching as the largest of the wolves—a black-furred beast with a silver streak down its spine—lifted its head, locking eyes with .

I didn’t flinch.

I refused to.

"Why do they feed you like this?" I murmured, more to myself than anything.

The wolf didn’t answer, obviously.

But it didn’t look away either.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring into those eerie golden eyes, when a sharp voice cut through the air.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I turned sharply, already knowing who I’d find.

Liora stood with her arms crossed, her sharp features twisted in irritation.

I exhaled through my nose, pushing to my feet. "Feeding them."

"You did that already," she snapped. "You’re supposed to be inside."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do they eat like this?"

Liora’s jaw tightened. "That’s none of your concern."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting."

I didn’t move.

Neither did she.

For a mont, we stood there, locked in a silent battle. Isla was taller, stronger. A wolf who could snap in half if she wanted.

But I wasn’t afraid of her.

Not when there were far worse things lurking in this castle.

Finally, she exhaled harshly and grabbed my wrist. "Move it, human. Before you start asking questions you don’t want the answers to."

That sounded like a threat.

And worse?

A warning.

But I let her drag back inside anyway, even as my mind kept turning over everything I’d just seen.

Because if there was one thing I knew for sure—one thing my father had drilled into my head since I was old enough to hold a blade.

A pack was only as strong as its wolves.

And if Zain’s pack was starving?

Then sothing was very, very wrong.

I should’ve let it go.

I should’ve ignored the uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach and focused on keeping my head down, surviving long enough to find a way out of here.

But I couldn’t.

Because now that I’d seen them—the wolves who were supposed to be Zain’s warriors, treated like strays—I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The castle was rich. The halls glead with wealth, the food served to Zain and his inner circle was fresh, decadent. So why were the others eating scraps?

And more importantly—what did it say about the Alpha who ruled over them?

"Keep your head down," Liora muttered as we walked back through the stone corridors. "You’re already on thin ice."

I scoffed. "Oh, forgive for noticing sothing off in your perfect little kingdom."

Liora shot a sharp look but didn’t respond. Instead, she stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and shoved it open.

The kitchen was massive—larger than the one I had been inside initially.

How many fucking kitchen do they have?With long tables stacked with trays of food. But unlike the scraps I had just seen outside, these dishes were freshly prepared, steaming with the scent of roasted ats, baked bread, and warm spices.

It made my stomach twist.

So there was enough food.

Just not for everyone.

"Take these," Isla ordered, strolling in causally and thrusting a tray into my hands.

I frowned. "What is this?"

"Lunch."

I blinked at her. Then at the tray.

The plates were neatly arranged—cooked at, fresh vegetables, golden-brown bread.

For a split second, I thought she ant for to eat. But no.

This wasn’t for .

This was for him.

My grip tightened on the edges of the tray. "You’ve got to be kidding ."

Isla raised a brow. "Does it look like I am?."

I set my jaw. "I just finished serving him, like few minutes ago!"

A slow smirk curled at her lips. "Wolves don’t eat like you puny little humans. And What did you expect? That you’d get to lounge in your room all day?"

"I expected not to be treated like a servant."

Isla gave a short, humorless laugh. "You’re worse than a servant. You’re his prisoner."

I knew that. I knew that. But sothing about carrying this tray, about being forced to serve the very man I wanted to kill, made my blood burn.

Still, I didn’t have a choice.

I bit back every insult bubbling up my throat and grabbed the tray. "Fine."

Isla stepped aside, motioning toward another door. "Then get moving."

I hesitated for only a second before forcing my feet forward, my pulse hamring as I walked toward the Alpha’s dining hall, for the second ti today.

Because no matter how much I hated this—no matter how much I loathed the idea of standing before him, serving him food like so obedient pet—

I’d do it.

And while I did?

I’d watch. I’d learn.

Because every king had a weakness.

And if I was going to kill him, I needed to find his.