Chapter 157: Chapter 157
Irina’s POV
The paved pathway behind the main estate seemed to stretch on forever.
It completely abandoned the manicured, bright lawns of the CEO’s primary residence. Instead, the walkway twisted violently into a dense, overgrown forest. The towering, ancient pine trees grew thick and closely clustered together. Their heavy, dark branches completely blocked out the fading evening light, plunging the path into a cold, suffocating twilight.
I walked as fast as my exhausted legs could carry me.
My arms ached fiercely. The massive stack of confidential manila folders was incredibly heavy against my chest. My fingers were cramped from gripping the thick paper. My knees were still throbbing from hours of scrubbing the marble floors in the east wing.
But it wasn’t the physical pain that was making my heart race.
It was the air.
The crisp, clean autumn wind had vanished. The air back here in the deep woods was dead. It was heavy, damp, and freezing cold. Every single time my scuffed sneakers crunched against a dead leaf, the sound echoed far too loudly in the unnatural silence.
My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind.
She paced anxiously behind my ribs. She didn’t like this place. She didn’t like the shadows. She wanted to turn around. She wanted to run back to the brightly lit staff kitchen, scoop our pup into our arms, and hide under the blankets.
*Just ten minutes,* I told myself desperately, tightening my grip on the folders. *Mrs. Gable said it would only take ten minutes. Drop the files and run back to Luka.*
I rounded a sharp, twisting bend in the paved path.
The dense tree line suddenly broke.
I stopped dead in my tracks. The breath was violently punched right out of my lungs.
Rosewood Manor loomed at the end of the pathway.
It wasn’t a sleek, modern corporate guest house. It wasn’t built of shining glass and polished steel like the massive tower downtown. It was ancient. It was constructed entirely of rough, dark, imposing stone. It featured heavy, arched, gothic windows and sharp, terrifying turrets that pierced the grey, bruised sky. Thick, creeping ivy choked the stone walls like dark veins.
My blood turned to absolute ice.
A wave of sheer, paralyzing terror crashed over my entire body. My hands started to shake so violently that the heavy folders nearly slipped from my grasp.
It looked exactly like Greystone.
It looked exactly like the terrifying, blood-soaked palace in the werewolf underground. It had the same suffocating, predatory architecture. It had the exact same heavy, looming darkness that Nicholas commanded.
My breathing turned rapid and incredibly shallow. I stumbled backward, my sneaker catching on the edge of the pavement.
*No. No, it’s a human building,* I mentally chanted, fighting back the rising tide of absolute panic. *It’s just an old mansion. Mrs. Gable sent me here. It’s owned by Obsidian Holdings. Nicholas is miles away in the city. He is looking for you at the university, not here. You are safe here.*
I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief, agonizing second. I forced myself to swallow the dry, painful lump of fear in my throat.
I had to finish the job. If I ran away and failed to deliver the files, I could lose this job. I couldn’t lose the only safe haven I had found in the human world.
I forced my trembling legs to move forward.
I walked up the wide, dark stone steps. My heart hammered a frantic, sickening rhythm against my ribs.
I reached the massive, arched, solid oak front doors. There was no doorbell. There was no keypad. I tentatively reached out a shaking hand and pushed against the heavy, dark metal handle.
With a loud, agonizing creak, the heavy wooden door slowly swung inward.
I stepped over the threshold.
"Hello?" I called out.
My voice was a fragile, pathetic whisper. It echoed loudly in the cavernous space, bouncing off the high stone ceilings and completely disappearing into the gloom.
No one answered.
The interior of Rosewood Manor was pitch black.
It was completely swallowed by shadows. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn tightly shut over the tall windows, blocking out the last remaining slivers of evening twilight. There were no lamps turned on. There was no warm glow coming from the hallways. The air inside was absolutely freezing, smelling strongly of old wood, cold stone, and a strange, metallic dampness.
It felt like a tomb.
It felt exactly like the dark, windowless dungeon where Maxim used to lock me away when he was tired of hitting me.
A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. My omega instincts were screaming at me at the absolute top of their lungs. *Predator territory. Run. Turn around and run!*
"Is... is anyone here?" I tried again, my voice cracking entirely. "I have a delivery from Mrs. Gable."
Absolute, dead silence.
Not a footstep. Not a breath. Not the hum of a refrigerator or the click of a heater.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t walk into the pitch-black belly of this terrifying house. Every single nerve in my body was completely electrified with raw fear. I needed to leave. I needed to get back to Clara. Luka was waiting for me. My baby needed me.
I took two hesitant steps into the gloomy foyer.
My eyes frantically adjusted to the suffocating darkness. Just a few feet to my left, I spotted a massive, antique mahogany console table positioned against the stone wall.
*That’s far enough,* I thought wildly. *I’ll just leave them right there.*
I practically lunged toward the table. I slammed the heavy stack of manila folders down onto the polished wood. The sharp, loud smack of the files hitting the table made me violently flinch.
"I’m leaving the documents on the table!" I announced to the empty, black void of the hallway.
I immediately turned around. My scuffed sneakers pivoted sharply toward the open front door. The cool, fresh evening air outside looked like pure salvation. I was going to sprint all the way back to the main house. I was never coming to this side of the estate ever again.
But before I could take a single step toward freedom, a sudden, violent gust of cold wind ripped through the open front door.
The wind howled through the stone entryway.
It hit the mahogany table hard. The heavy stack of manila folders shifted. The top folder, which hadn’t been fully clasped shut, flipped violently open in the sudden draft.
A single piece of paper was ripped from the top of the stack.
It fluttered through the freezing air and landed softly on the dark, hardwood floor, completely face-down.
I froze.
I let out a frustrated, shaky breath. I couldn’t just leave classified executive documents scattered all over the floor. Mrs. Gable would absolutely fire me.
I quickly dropped to my knees on the cold floor. The stone sent a vicious chill straight through the thin fabric of my uniform slacks. I reached my trembling hand out toward the fallen paper.
My fingertips brushed against the smooth, thick, high-quality printer paper.
I grabbed the edge of the document. I quickly flipped it over, intending to stand up, shove it back into the manila folder, and run for my life.
The faint, pale moonlight filtering through the open front door hit the surface of the paper.
My heart completely stopped beating.
The air vanished from my lungs in a single, devastating rush. My entire body went completely rigid. The blood in my veins turned to absolute, freezing ice.
It wasn’t a financial report. It wasn’t a corporate memo.
I realized the photo printed on the paper was of me.
