3 Hating Alpha Adolphus.

Dusk.

Bedroom, Grimm mansion.

Dams Keep, Damhale

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Birds chirped, footsteps echoed, and wolves howled in Seraphina’s mind as she slowly emerged from a dream. Morning light filtered through heavy curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Seraphina stirred awake, realizing she was enveloped in warmth she hadn’t known she’d shared with someone. She blinked, her movements hesitant and slow as she emerged from the depths of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she simply lay there, disoriented and confused.

Where was she, and why was she so warm? She wondered.

Her eyes took in the luxurious room: furs, a mirror, a plush rug, an overly soft bed, and—an arm! She snapped her gaze up the bed, finding Adolphus gazing at her with those dark, almost black eyes. They were glowing last night.

Adolphus!

When she realized where she was and who lay beside her, a look of fury and betrayal crossed her face. She scrambled away from him, her body tense and rigid. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice a mix of anger and disgust.

Adolphus sat up, his expression guarded. He said nothing, knowing that any words he spoke would only inflame her further. He watched as she pulled the furs tightly around her, her green eyes blazing with indignation.

"You had no right," she spat, her voice trembling. "No right to lie with me."

That was what she would focus on? He mused silently.

He remained silent, his heart heavy with the weight of her accusations. She didn't know, couldn't know, that his intentions had been pure, that he had simply wanted to keep her warm and safe. But he couldn't find the words to explain, couldn't bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

Seraphina turned away from him, covering herself as she flushed, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed rage. She felt violated, betrayed, and deeply hurt. The man she had once liked was now a stranger, a monster who had torn her world apart.

“Come down for tea when you’re ready,” he invited softly, but she only glared at him.

Adolphus rose from the bed, giving her one last, sorrowful look before he left the room. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way to make her understand, to heal the wounds he had inflicted. The house, which was his, suddenly felt too tight; he could only imagine how suffocating it’d be for her.

Seraphina sat lost in thought, staring at the wall. A polite knock resounded on the door, snapping her out of her trance with a long draw of breath. “Miss Seraphina, breakfast is about to begin, you are expected downstairs,” a soft voice announced.

“Come inside,” she invited, her voice lost. She had one question to ask. The maid turned the handle and stepped inside, her bronze skin glowing healthily while she stared at her feet.

“Good mor─” the maid started but seemed to think better of it. It could not be a good morning for a young human whose family was only annihilated just last night. Instead, she acknowledged her, “Miss Seraphina.”

Seraphina turned, and the maid held her gaze in her brown eyes, the contempt in the hunter's girl’s eyes taking her aback. “Does everyone know that I hate werewolves and despite being here now I don’t mind if the whole realm catches on fire and we all go to hell?”

The maid blinked. “Yes.”

Her answer shocked Seraphina, but she merely nodded and headed for her folded dress, which had been so dirty last night. She was almost grateful. She put it on, avoiding the mirror as she easily changed.

“Help me zip up my dress,” she asked, turning her back to the maid, who suddenly had great respect for the white girl.

“My name is Emma, and the girls and I helped bathe you last night,” Emma told her, in case she felt disrespected by Adolphus. He hadn’t.

‘I don’t care,’ Seraphina almost bit out, but that’d be a lie, and she didn’t feel comfortable being bitter towards the pretty maid.

Are they all this pretty and strong-looking? She wondered but quenched the curiosity with anger when she remembered they were the enemy.

#

Morning.

Dining Hall, Grimm mansion.

Dams Keep, Damhale

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Seraphina stood in the grand ancestral dining hall of the werewolves, a place steeped in history and blood. Her curly black hair, usually a wild halo around her head, was now in a messy bun to watch them closely without her hair obstructing her view. She felt out of place, a fragile human among predators, her heart beating a frantic rhythm in her chest. She clutched the edge of the long wooden table, her knuckles white, as she fought the overwhelming urge to flee. Emma, the maid, had escorted her here kindly but left immediately.

The hall was vast, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers made of antlers casting flickering shadows on the rough-hewn stone walls. Massive tapestries depicting ancient battles and hunts draped the walls, their intricate designs telling the storied past of the werewolf clans. The air was thick with the scent of cooked meat and wood smoke, mingling with the underlying musk of the werewolves themselves.

Dozens of them were seated at the long table, their forms both human and not quite human, the eyes, nails, and skin color differentiating them. They tore into their breakfast with primal vigor, the sound of ripping flesh and cracking bones filling the room. Conversations were low and guttural, punctuated by growls and laughter that sent shivers down Seraphina's spine. They were a formidable sight, each one exuding a sense of power and danger that made her skin crawl. Why did her father ever hunt them? They seemed to have the upper hand.

At the head of the table sat Adolphus, his presence commanding and oppressive. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling in a wild mane around his face. His eyes, a piercing dark red, locked onto Seraphina with a mix of possessiveness and amusement at how she stood cute and glaring at people she’d cower under their gaze. He had forced her to be there, dragged her into the heart of his realm, and now watched her every move with a predatory gleam.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that brooked no disobedience.

Seraphina hesitated, her eyes darting to the empty chair beside him. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to escape this den of monsters. But she knew it was futile. The hall was filled with werewolves, each one more deadly than the next. There was no way out. Not now.

The pack's attention shifted at the command of their alpha. She moved slowly, her legs trembling as she approached the chair. As she sat, she felt the weight of their gazes on her, the silent judgment and curiosity of the pack. She was an outsider, an interloper in their sacred space, and they made no effort to hide their disdain—not like she cared about them too.

Adolphus leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You are here as my guest, Seraphina. You are safe here."

Guest. The word was a mockery, a cruel twist of the reality she found herself in. She was not a guest; she was a prisoner, brought here against her will, forced to witness the brutality and savagery of the werewolves up close. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding some way to burn this place to the ground and end their reign of terror that was just budding.

She glanced at the food laid out before her, a feast of roasted meats and fruits, hearty breads, and cheeses. Her stomach grumbled, and she reddened because she was too simple. She wished the sight and smell of the meal nauseated her. She wished she could not bring herself to eat, to partake in the same sustenance that fueled these monsters. But she could. She was hungry, and she wasn’t strong enough to ignore such an assortment of food.

She couldn’t even grieve. She wished she could let it out, cry and fight, but perhaps last night had been all she’s got. She was a bad Hunter. Seraphina Hunters didn’t mourn.

The werewolves around her continued their meal, seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil. They spoke of hunts and territory disputes, of human women and future plans. Their words were a blur, a cacophony of sounds that made her head spin.

Adolphus reached for a goblet, filled to the brim with a dark, foreign liquid. He took a long drink, his eyes never leaving Seraphina's face. "You will learn to accept your place here," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You will learn to respect our ways."

Seraphina's hands tightened into fists beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms. She fought to keep her expression neutral, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. But inside, she was a storm of emotions: anger, hatred, despair. She wanted nothing more than to see this hall, and everyone in it, reduced to ashes.

Her place as what exactly? As the trophy? The prisoner? The coward?

Her gaze flicked to the large fireplace at the far end of the hall, and her gaze narrowed. She imagined the fire spreading, consuming the whole place—the wooden beams, the very stone itself. She imagined the screams of the werewolves as they burned, their monstrous forms writhing in agony, and her own loud laughter. But it was just a fantasy, a fleeting moment of dark solace. Reality crashed back down on her, cold and unforgiving. She was trapped here, at the mercy of Adolphus and his pack, with no clear way out.

Her Daddy wasn’t coming for her. James wouldn’t, and this place won’t burn.

Adolphus set his goblet down, a sympathetic smirk on his lips. His eyes fixed on her. “It’d be a failed attempt,” he said suddenly. He had been watching her.

Her spine straightened when she realized he was talking to her. “What?”

He eyed the fireplace. “Starting a fire in your head? It’d be a failed mission if you try it,” he promised.

How… How did he know?

She shuddered lightly, the cold wasn’t because of the weather but Adolphus. She blinked nervously before stuffing a piece of meat between her lips to keep herself occupied and free from replying or his intense gaze.

He smiled, amused, before he leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on her. "Enjoy your breakfast, Seraphina," he said, his tone teasing. "You have a long day ahead of you."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, her own eyes blazing with defiance. "I will never be one of you," she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

He chuckled, a dark, ominous sound that echoed through the hall. "Oh, Butterfly," he said, leaning forward once more. She turned just in time, her green eyes drawn into his dark red ones, their noses almost touching, and they could almost taste each other's breath. "You have no idea what you will become," he whispered, his tone dark with his eyes glinting with a dark promise. “You have no idea how much you will come to desire, and I shall give them all and more to you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, while he traced her lips with his laser gaze.

The werewolves' laughter drew them apart, throwing them out of the bubble they were creating around them. Their laugh was a chilling chorus that sent a wave of dread through Seraphina. She turned her gaze to the table sharply, focused on the food intently, unable to look at them at all. She needed an out.

Her mind raced with thoughts of escape. She had to find a way out. She had to survive. But for now, she was trapped. She was a lone human in a den of wolves, and the only thing she could do was endure. She hated Adolphus.