CHAPTER 50: SHELTER IN THE WOLF’S DEN

(Evelina’s POV—On the Way to the Vinter Mansion)

The city blurred past the tinted car windows—lights dragging into long streaks of gold and red. The world outside felt distant. Muted. Almost unreal.

Inside?

Too real.

Too quiet.

Too close.

Theo sat beside me with the kind of calm that made the air feel heavier. Like he controlled not just the car, but gravity itself. The leather creaked under his arm as he rested it behind me again—easily, casually, intentionally territorial.

I ignored him.

Or... I tried.

My gaze stayed fixed outside as warehouses gave way to high-rise buildings, and high-rise buildings gave way to estates guarded by iron gates and armed shadows.

The Vinter territory.

Theo’s territory.

"You’re quiet," he murmured.

"Thinking."

"Dangerous," he said with a smirk. "For everyone except you."

I didn’t answer. My pulse ticked, steady but alert. Because I wasn’t entering an ordinary mansion. I was entering the den of a man who didn’t ask for things.

He took them.

And somehow—infuriatingly—I wasn’t afraid.

The car slowed as we turned onto a private road lined with black pines. Gates taller than most buildings slid open at our approach. The mansion loomed ahead—vast, dark stone and storm-colored windows. A structure carved out of power.

Theo glanced at me.

"Are you nervous?"

"I’m not," I replied flatly.

He smiled like I’d told the funniest lie in the world.

The car stopped. The driver got out first, then opened my door. Cold night air wrapped around me as I stepped out onto the marble steps.

Theo appeared beside me instantly, offering his hand.

I ignored it and walked ahead.

He chuckled softly behind me. "Still pretending not to like my touch? Adorable."

I didn’t honor that with a response.

The mansion doors opened on their own, two guards bowing their heads as we passed. Inside, warm amber lighting reflected off obsidian floors and velvet drapes. The scent of cedar and smoke lingered—danger disguised as luxury.

And then—

"Welcome home, Master Theo."

A line of servants stood in perfect formation on both sides of the grand foyer. Their uniforms were crisp, their heads bowed, and their voices synchronized.

"Welcome home."

Even the way they breathed was disciplined. Controlled. As if they understood that one misplaced gesture in front of Theo could end more than their employment.

Theo didn’t break stride. He nodded once—barely a tilt of his chin—yet every servant straightened instantly. A few even trembled.

This man didn’t rule with kindness.

He ruled with presence.

A presence that weighed on the air like a warning. I glanced sideways at him. He wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at me.

Of course he was.

I ignored him and let my gaze sweep across the foyer.

And God... It was stunning. Not pretty. Not romantic. Stunning

in the way a predator is stunning when you realize it could tear you apart.

Tall archways framed each hallway, carved with silver inlay that shimmered like moonlight. The ceiling soared above us with dark crystal chandeliers dripping like frozen black rain.

Paintings lined the walls—oil portraits of grim men and colder women. Generations of Vinter blood staring down at me like I’d walked into the pages of a gothic empire.

A grand staircase spiraled upward, the railing made of wrought iron shaped into serpents. At the top, a massive portrait of a crowned wolf hung over the landing, its golden eyes seeming almost alive.

I tilted my head slightly. "Subtle theme."

Theo chuckled beside me. "You like it."

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t need to."

Before I snapped at him again, footsteps approached. An older man—dignified, black-haired, and with a posture straight enough to cut glass—bowed deeply.

"Master Theo," he greeted. "Your return was not expected so early. Shall I prepare the guest suites?"

Guest suites?

Theo’s hand hovered at the small of my back—too close, too intentional. "Not the guest suites," he said lightly.

The butler blinked once.

Then bowed deeper. "Understood."

I narrowed my eyes. "What does ’not the guest suites’ mean?"

Theo gave me a sideways glance that was far too innocent to be trusted. "It means you’ll be staying somewhere... safer."

Safer.

In Theo Vinter’s vocabulary, the word could mean anything from a fortified room to a prison of velvet and gold.

I crossed my arms. "Define ’safer.’"

He smirked. "Somewhere closer to me."

"YOU—"

He walked past me with infuriating confidence, hands casually in his pockets, as if he owned not just this mansion but also the oxygen I was breathing.

Then, without turning, he added—

"What about Rowan?"

He paused mid-step. And slowly... very slowly... pivoted back toward me. The temperature dropped. His eyes darkened—sharp, predatory, and dangerous in a way that whispered murder in velvet.

"Baby..." he said in a low, deliberate murmur, "I hate when you say another man’s name."

He took one step closer.

Then another.

Each step echoing like a countdown.

"It pisses me off."

I stared back coldly. "I don’t care what pisses you off. Rowan has been with me through everything. I want him assigned a room near mine."

Theo’s jaw tightened.

Not in anger.

In possessiveness.

"I see," he said slowly. "So that’s how it is."

I raised a brow. "Yes. That’s how it is."

His smirk returned—dark, amused, addictive.

"Ah..." he whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed my cheek, "I love audacity."

"I heard that," I snapped.

"I meant for you to." He winked.

Before I could stab him with my heel, a servant approached with a bow so deep her forehead nearly touched the floor.

"This way, Miss Evelina," she said softly. "Your room has been prepared."

Of course, Theo’s servants were trained to sound like polite assassins.

I shot Theo one last glare—he grinned, utterly unrepentant—then followed the servant down a long corridor. The deeper we walked, the richer the air became. The walls shifted from obsidian to dark wood carved with silver filigree. Soft lights glowed behind frosted sconces, casting warm shadows.

Every step sank into thick, velvet carpeting.

Every door we passed was massive, carved, and locked.

This wasn’t a hallway. It was a vault of secrets.

Finally, we reached a pair of double doors carved with the Vinter crest—a crowned wolf with a crushed sword under its paw.

The servant pushed the doors open.

"Your room, Miss."

I stepped inside. And froze. Because this wasn’t a room.

It was a domain.

High ceilings draped with dark silk. A massive king-size bed layered in black velvet. A chandelier of smoked crystal glittering like a thousand caged stars. An entire wall of windows overlooking the city lights—sharp and glittering like broken glass.

On the opposite wall: a fireplace.

Crackling.

Warm.

Welcoming.

Too welcoming.

Theo’s presence lingered in every inch of this place—danger, power, and an intimacy I absolutely did not request. The servant bowed once more and stepped out, closing the doors behind me with a soft click.

I exhaled slowly.

Beautiful.

Luxurious.

And suffocating in the exact way Theo intended. Of course he wouldn’t put me in a normal guest room.

This wasn’t a guest suite. This was his private wing. And if I knew Theo Vinter... He was already on his way here.

"Do you like the room?"

I knew it.

I turned, and there he was leaning against the doorframe like he owned the world, holding a heavy bag in one hand. His eyes—probing, annoyingly amused—scanned my reaction.

"It’s fine," I said flatly.

He chuckled and walked in, letting the door shut behind him with a soft thud.

Then—CLUNK!!!

He dropped the black bag onto the table. The sound wasn’t just heavy.

It echoed.

Metallic.

Expensive.

"What is—"

"I told you," he said, stepping closer, voice low and maddeningly confident, "I prepared a gift for you. Something you lost."

He unzipped the bag.

The moment it opened—SHINE.

A gleam of pure gold. Cold, bright, breathtaking.

"This,"

he said, tapping the edge of the bag lightly, "is twenty thousand gold."

My jaw nearly dropped.

"Twenty...?" I stared. "Where in the world are you getting gold coins like they’re spare change?"

Theo smirked—that sinful, arrogant curve that made murder look elegant.

"Sweetheart," he said, leaning forward, "I can build an empire for you... if you decide to be mine."

...

...

The man was unbelievable.

I wanted to scoff.

But those damn coins.

I needed them.

I stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of the golden pile—its weight, its promise, its power.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Theo’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. He stepped in—too close—close enough for the warmth of his breath to graze my cheek.

"So..." he murmured, voice dropping into velvet sin, "my babe is a greedy one, hm?"

I glared at him. He grinned wider, leaning down until his lips hovered inches from my ear. "I never knew gold diggers were this adorable."

TRING!!!

A system notification flickered behind my eyes.

[Theo Vinter’s Affection: 70%]

It rose.

Again.

Only by 2%, but that didn’t matter.

Because he currently held the highest affection among all characters. Higher than Rowan.Higher than anyone.

A good thing?

Yes.

A terrifying thing?

Absolutely.

Because affection this high comes with a price. And if I ever pissed him off—truly pissed him off—the drop would be catastrophic.

Violent.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

Theo Vinter wasn’t just a pawn or a protector. He was a wild card.

One that could either save me or destroy everything I had built.

Including me.

And now?

He was standing one breath away, whispering like he already owned every piece of me. I needed to be very, very careful around him.