Wolves in the Shadows

Life at Carlisle House settled into a dull, exhausting rhythm. I worked from morning to night, scrubbing, polishing, and hauling with little more than a nod from the other staff. My body ached in places I didn't know existed, and my hands, once soft from a life of luxury, were now raw and red. But I welcomed the pain—it was easier than thinking about everything I'd lost.

Dominic Carlisle was like the house itself: cold, imposing, and impossible to avoid for long. Even though I tried to stay invisible, I felt his presence constantly, like the shadow of a predator circling just beyond sight. He was the kind of man you noticed, whether you wanted to or not.

And I hated that part of me couldn't stop noticing him.

The first real encounter happened in the library, where I wasn't supposed to be. No one told me that, of course. I was handed a feather duster and a list of tasks, and the library was one of them.

It was a vast room, lined wall to wall with old books, their leather spines cracked with age. The scent of dust and parchment was oddly comforting—a whisper of something familiar in a world where everything else was foreign. I stretched on my toes, reaching for the top shelf, when I felt him.

A prickling sensation ran down the back of my neck.

"That room's off-limits."

I spun around, nearly dropping the duster, and found myself face-to-face with Dominic Carlisle.

Up close, he was more than just intimidating. He was a force of nature. Dark, tousled hair, a rough jawline peppered with stubble, and cold, piercing blue eyes that locked onto me as if they could see right through me. His presence hit like a slap—sharp and undeniable.

"I— I didn't know," I stammered, hating how small my voice sounded.

He stepped closer, his gaze steady, unreadable. "Now you do."

The room seemed to shrink with every step he took toward me, the air charged with something I couldn't name. I forced myself to stand still, meeting his gaze head-on even as my heart raced.

"What's your name?" he asked, voice low and measured.

"Liv," I said quickly, hoping that would be enough.

Dominic tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, as though he knew there was more to the story but didn't care enough to press.

"You're not here to make mistakes, Liv," he warned. "Stay out of rooms you don't belong in, and stay out of my way."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me breathless and rooted to the spot.

I told myself it didn't matter. Dominic Carlisle was nothing to me, just a man at the helm of a ship I had no choice but to sail on. But there was no escaping him. He seemed to exist everywhere at once—his voice in the halls, his presence in the air, his shadow following me like a threat.

And though I tried to push the thought away, I couldn't help but notice the way he moved: not with the calculated ease of someone like Nathan, but with the kind of grace that came from always being ready for a fight.

It was a week later when I heard Nathan's voice.

I had just finished my chores and was walking past the study when the sound of laughter froze me in my tracks. It was too familiar—too haunting. I pressed myself against the wall outside the door, heart hammering in my chest as the conversation floated out into the hall.

"You've got this whole fortress to yourself, huh?" Nathan's voice was casual, cocky. "Must be nice, living out here in exile while the rest of us pick up the pieces."

"Get to the point, Nathan." Dominic's voice was flat, devoid of warmth.

Nathan chuckled softly. "No point. Just checking in on my big brother. Thought I'd make sure you're still alive."

"You never do anything without a reason," Dominic said coolly. "Spit it out."

There was a pause, the tension thick enough to choke on.

"Fine," Nathan said, a slight edge creeping into his voice. "You know our old man's pissed you're still holed up out here, right? You've got the family name, but you're doing nothing with it. You could be back in the city, running the empire. But instead, you're here, brooding like a goddamn ghost."

Dominic gave a dry laugh. "Better a ghost than a puppet."

I leaned closer, my heart pounding in my ears. Nathan Carlisle was a man who thrived on control, and Dominic seemed to be the only person immune to his charm. Their relationship was a web of bitterness and rivalry—something I was only now beginning to understand.

"Anyway," Nathan continued, "just thought I'd stop by. Heard you've got a new staff rotation—must be getting lonely out here."

Dominic didn't respond, and Nathan's laughter filled the silence. "Enjoy your solitude, brother. Just remember, you can't hide forever."

His footsteps echoed as he left the study, and I pressed myself further into the shadows, holding my breath.

When Nathan's presence finally faded down the hall, I exhaled shakily. He hadn't seen me, hadn't known I was here. But the encounter left me rattled, a stark reminder of just how close I was to being discovered.

Dominic's voice cut through my thoughts, low and deliberate. "Eavesdropping is a dangerous habit."

I jumped, whirling around to find him standing in the doorway, one hand resting casually on the frame. His blue eyes were sharp, pinning me in place.

"I— I wasn't—"

"Save it," he said flatly. "Next time, try harder not to get caught."

I stared at him, my heart still racing. There was no anger in his voice—just that same cold indifference that seemed to define him.

"Why didn't you tell him?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "About me, I mean."

His gaze didn't waver. "Why would I?"

The question hung between us, heavy and unanswered. He didn't wait for a response—just turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the dark hallway, feeling more exposed than ever.

That night, I lay awake in my narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day played over and over in my mind.