FATED MATES IN THE SHADOWS

SELENE

The stairs leading up to Mr. Orion’s mansion felt longer than they looked.

With every step, my pulse beat harder, frantic, like a bird slamming itself against glass. The building rose above me, massive and unyielding, all stone and shadow, beautiful in the way storms are beautiful, distant, dangerous, and admired from afar.

I had never stood before something so grand.

Or so terrifying.

Today was not just about work. It was about survival, about stepping into a life I never imagined for myself, because imagining had always been a luxury I could not afford.

I stopped at the door.

The wood was dark and heavy, carved with patterns that twisted like secrets. My hand hovered for a moment before knocking, and when I finally did, the sound echoed through the mansion, each knock louder than the last, as if the house itself was answering.

Everyone in town knew Mr. Orion.

Rich. Ruthless. Untouchable.

And now, somehow, my employer.

Becoming his maid was not a dream. It was desperation. Medical bills do not care about pride, and college dreams do not wait for miracles. Ariel and Chris had pack protection, werewolf privilege, and choices. I had none of that.

Just my hands, and my willingness to endure.

The door creaked open, and I inhaled sharply.

He stood there like he had been carved from the shadows themselves, tall and still, dominant in a way that did not require effort. An Alpha without needing to say it.

His eyes moved over me slowly, not curious and not impressed, simply assessing, measuring. My throat tightened under the weight of his gaze, and my knees threatened betrayal. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his voice cut through the silence, calm and cold.

“What is your name?”

“Selene,” I said, my voice barely holding.

“And your age?”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month.”

There was a pause, subtle but deliberate, and his eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Are you prepared to work as a maid in this house?”

“Yes,” I answered quickly. “I am.”

He studied me for another second before turning away, as though the decision had already been made long before I arrived.

“Welcome, Selene,” he said. The words were polite, though his tone was not. “You will address me as Mr. Orion.”

I followed him inside.

The mansion was just as haunting within as it was outside, filled with dark polished wood, thick velvet curtains, and chandeliers that glowed like old memories. Everything smelled expensive, ancient, untouched.

“There are rooms you will clean,” he said as he walked ahead of me, “and there are doors you will never touch.”

He stopped long enough for the warning to settle.

“Never.”

The word slid into my skin like ice.

“I understand,” I replied, swallowing.

“My assistant will guide you. His name is Beta Jay.”

Without another glance, he disappeared into one of the corridors, leaving silence behind him like something deliberate.

I had barely recovered when a voice rose behind me, smooth and warm.

“Well, hello.”

I turned.

If Mr. Orion was winter, Beta Jay was summer. His eyes were bright, his smile easy, his posture open, as though the world was not dangerous at all. He extended a hand.

“I’m Jay. And you must be?”

“Selene,” I replied, shaking his hand. “The new maid.”

“Then welcome to the maze,” he said lightly. “Come on.”

He showed me the mansion, the staircases that seemed to loop endlessly, the libraries thick with dust and history, the guest rooms, and the quiet corners where sound seemed to disappear. Eventually, we stopped before a single door, and his smile faded.

“This one,” he said, lowering his voice, “is not yours to open. Ever.”

I nodded, committing its position to memory.

By the time he left me to begin my duties, my nerves were already frayed. I changed quickly, pulled out my phone, and typed a short message to my friends.

I got the job. Talk later.

I stared at the screen for a moment longer, emotions twisting in my chest, before locking the phone away. Work did not wait.

Days turned into weeks.

Mr. Orion remained distant, a shadow moving through hallways, speaking only when necessary, and I learned the rules without being told twice. What I could not ignore, however, were the women.

Every evening, without fail, a different woman arrived. Different faces, the same confidence, the same certainty that they belonged there. After each visit, I cleaned the rooms they left behind.

I never asked questions and never commented, but something inside me cracked a little more each time. I did not understand the feeling, and I did not want to.

Until the doorbell rang.

Not once, but again, and again, urgent and insistent.

I wiped my hands on my apron and opened the door.

The woman standing there did not smile. She did not need to.

Dark hair framed her flawless face, and her silver-gray eyes met mine without blinking, as though she already knew my name.

“Good day,” I said carefully. “May I ask the reason for your visit?”

“I am Lady Evelyn,” she replied calmly. “Family to Mr. Orion.”

Family.

The word tightened something in my stomach.

“Forgive my caution,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “but many guests claim closeness to Mr. Orion. May I ask how you are related?”

Her lips curved slowly, deliberately.

“My dear,” she said softly as she stepped closer, “my bond with him is written in blood.”

The air shifted.

Her scent lingered, wildflowers laced with something old and sharp, and her gaze moved over me, not dismissive and not cruel, but intimate, as though peeling back layers I did not know I had. For the first time since entering the mansion, fear crept unmistakably up my spine.

Still, I stepped aside.

“Please come in,” I said. “I will inform Mr. Orion.”

She crossed the threshold, and as the door closed behind her, something inside me tightened, sharp and immediate.

It was not fear alone. It was recognition.

I had felt it before, long before I ever stepped foot into this house, back when my life was simpler and the consequences were smaller. I had always been like this, noticing what others brushed aside, sensing when something would matter long before it did. Ariel used to joke that I was dramatic, but Chris never laughed. He listened. They both did, eventually, because I was never wrong.

I had warned them about people who later showed their true colors, about choices that ended badly despite looking harmless at first. I was human, painfully so, with no heightened senses or pack bond to explain it, yet my instincts unfolded exactly the way I felt them.

They trusted me because of that.

And standing there now, watching Lady Evelyn move deeper into the mansion as though it already belonged to her, that same certainty settled in my chest, calm and unwavering.

This woman’s visit was not a coincidence.

Whatever history tied her to Mr. Orion, whatever she had come to claim or destroy, I knew, with the same quiet assurance I had always carried, that it would not pass through this house without consequence.

And somehow, impossibly, it would circle back to me.