Chapter 3 The Howling in the Hall

The rhythmic thumping intensified, vibrating through the ancient stone of Vale Estate like a morbid lullaby. Elara's breath hitched, her eyes darting around the dimly lit room. The fire crackled, but its warmth did little to dispel the growing chill that had nothing to do with the storm raging outside.

Lucien hadn't returned. The relief she'd initially felt at finding shelter had curdled into a gnawing anxiety. Was he calling for help? Or had he simply left her here, a messy inconvenience on his opulent doorstep? The aristocratic ghost act he'd pulled wasn't exactly reassuring.

Another contraction seized her, fiercer this time, stealing a guttural cry from her lips. Her nails dug into the soft leather of the sofa. "Okay, baby," she grunted through the pain, sweat beading on her forehead. "Looks like it's just you and me for now."

But the primal fear that had flickered earlier now roared to life. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She'd envisioned a sterile hospital room, maybe her estranged sister's worried face hovering above her. Not this cold, imposing mansion with its unsettling silence and the strange, pulsing heartbeat that seemed to be drawing closer.

Then, a shadow fell across the doorway.

Elara's head snapped up, her heart hammering against her ribs. It wasn't Lucien.

Standing in the entrance to the room was a woman. Tall, elegant, with hair the color of polished obsidian and eyes that glittered with an unnerving intensity. She wore a dress of deep violet that seemed to absorb the firelight, and around her neck, a silver pendant shaped like a howling wolf gleamed ominously.

A wave of dizziness washed over Elara. This wasn't just some random wealthy neighbor. There was something... predatory about this woman's stance, the way her gaze raked over Elara's swollen belly.

"Well, well," the woman said, her voice a silken purr that sent shivers down Elara's spine. "What have we here? A little stray caught in our web." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Who are you?" Elara managed, her voice trembling.

The woman took a step into the room, her gaze never leaving Elara. "My name is Seraphina. And this estate... belongs to my family." Her eyes flickered down to Elara's stomach again, a strange light igniting within them. "And what, pray tell, are you doing here, human?" The last word dripped with disdain.

Before Elara could answer, another contraction hit, doubling her over. A sharp cry escaped her lips.

Seraphina watched her with an almost clinical detachment. "Labor. How... inconvenient." She took another step closer, and Elara instinctively recoiled, pressing herself against the back of the sofa.

"Stay away from me," Elara whispered, her voice hoarse.

Seraphina chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it... yet. But I am curious about the little surprise you're carrying." Her gaze locked onto Elara's, and it felt like a physical touch, invasive and cold. "Lucien has been... neglecting his responsibilities lately. Perhaps this unexpected guest is the reason."

"I don't know any Lucien," Elara lied, her mind racing. This woman was dangerous. She could feel it in the air, in the way Seraphina moved, in the unsettling gleam in her eyes.

Seraphina's smile widened, revealing a hint of something sharp beneath her upper lip. "Oh, I think you do. The tall, brooding one with the rather... striking eyes? He has a penchant for rescuing damsels in distress, though they rarely look quite so... vulnerable."

The rhythmic thumping from deeper within the house grew louder, more insistent. Seraphina's head tilted slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Ah, I hear the little heartbeat. So... persistent."

Suddenly, the door behind Seraphina swung open, and Lucien stood there, his face a mask of fury. His golden eyes blazed, and the air in the room crackled with a raw, untamed energy that made Elara's breath catch in her throat. He looked less like an aristocratic ghost now, and more like a predator defending its territory.

"Seraphina," he growled, his voice dangerously low. "What are you doing here?"

Seraphina turned, her own icy composure faltering slightly at the sight of him. "Lucien! I was simply... investigating the commotion. A human woman in labor on Vale land? It's hardly an everyday occurrence." Her eyes flickered back to Elara, a hint of triumph in their depths. "And this... situation... it's rather intriguing, wouldn't you agree?"

Lucien's gaze flickered between Seraphina and Elara, his jaw tight. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension, a silent battle raging between them.

Then, Elara cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound as another powerful contraction ripped through her. The pain was blinding, all-consuming.

Lucien's attention snapped back to her, his furious expression softening with a flicker of something that looked almost like... concern?

"Get out, Seraphina," he said, his voice regaining its earlier authority, but with an undercurrent of something fierce and protective. "This is none of your concern."

Seraphina's smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold fury. "Oh, but I think it is, Lucien. Anything that happens on Vale land is my concern. Especially something... unnatural." Her gaze flickered pointedly at Elara's stomach.

The rhythmic thumping intensified again, closer now, resonating in Elara's very bones. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, a whimper escaping her lips.

Lucien took a step towards Seraphina, his hands clenching into fists. The air crackled with unspoken threats.

But before either of them could speak, a new sound pierced the tension. A low, guttural growl, not human, not quite animal, echoing from the hallway outside the room.

Seraphina's eyes widened, a flicker of fear replacing her anger. Lucien's head snapped towards the doorway, his golden eyes narrowing with a primal intensity Elara hadn't seen before.

Whatever was happening in Vale Estate, Elara knew with a chilling certainty, was far more dangerous than a broken GPS and a raging storm. And she and her unborn child were trapped right in the middle of it.