<h4>Chapter 481: This Wasn’t Prison</h4>


    <strong><i>[Meredith].</i></strong>


    Xamira, however, hesitated. She squeezed my hand tightly the moment she caught a few nces from the servants, curious, not hostile, but she was still a small human child in a house full of wolves.


    I bent down slightly. "It’s alright."


    But the second she spotted Draven, her fear vanished. Her hand slipped out of mine, and she sprinted across the room.


    "Daddy!" Her tiny voice bounced off the high ceilings as sheunched herself toward him.


    Draven’s expression softened instantly as his entire aura changed. He caught her effortlessly, lifting her into his arms before settling her on hisp.


    Beside him, I heard Dennis snort augh. Jeffery’s lips twitched in what counted as a smile for him—barely there, but present.


    As for Oscar, he nced once with a t expression, then returned to his te.


    He didn’t look like someone who dislikes children—he just didn’t like this child. But because she belonged to Draven, he would never voice it.


    I took my seat beside Draven, to his right as always. A servant pulled out the chair next to me for Xamira, who hopped down from Draven’sp and came to sit obediently at my side.


    Draven’s calm voice filled the room. "Father won’t be joining us. Let’s eat."


    Immediately, we lifted our cutlery and started with the meal before us.


    Xamira was unusually chatty—bright, talkative, almost bubbling over. She told Dennis about her knitting withplete seriousness.


    Dennis leaned his elbows on the table, nodding dramatically as if she were revealing national secrets.


    Jeffery listened without interrupting, while Oscar stayed silent as usual.


    <i>’She must be lonely,’</i> I thought.


    Xamira never had anyone her age. And now she barely had adults around her, too. So, if she wanted to talk today, I wasn’t going to stop her.


    After lunch, Lucy appeared to take her back. Xamira kissed the back of my hand before skipping over to her nanny. Then she was gone.


    Draven wiped his hands with a napkin and stood. Then his gaze shifted between Dennis and I. "If you are both ready, we will go see Mother now."


    Dennis froze mid-movement. Whatever hint of joy lunch had given him evaporated instantly.


    He swallowed hard. "Can my food digest first?" he muttered under his breath.


    Draven only raised a brow. "That’s why we’re walking down there."


    Dennis sighed as if he had just been sentenced to death, but he stood. I stood with him.


    And together, with Draven leading, we began the quiet walk toward to meet their mother.


    ---


    The elevator descended... and kept descending.


    I frowned slightly but didn’t say a word. Draven hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother living underground, yet here we were—passing the lower floors and sinking deeper into the estate.


    When the elevator finally chimed and the doors slid open, a cool draft washed over me.


    The hallway before us was long, quiet, and dimly lit, lined with smooth stone walls andntern-style lights. It didn’t feel sinister, but it didn’t feel normal either.


    For a brief moment, my heart tightened. <i>’Was their mother imprisoned?’</i>


    Dennis stepped out first. He was too quiet, too controlled—and that alone told me more about his state than words could. Draven remained expressionless beside me, his natural silence suddenly carrying weight.


    I opened my mouth to ask, but Draven spoke first, without looking back.


    "I know what you’re about to ask," he said calmly. "Our mother is not locked up. She chose to live here, far away from our father."


    I blinked, though not startled that he read my thoughts so easily. <i>’She chose this? Underground? Away from everyone?’</i>


    Before I could process it, Draven added, "Surprisingly, she doesn’t remember any of that, and she still thinks Father locked her away. But... she never leaves either."


    His voice held something—resignation, maybe. Or the tired eptance of someone who has repeated the same truth a thousand times, to no effect.


    We walked until we reached arge, heavy and imposing iron door. Draven gave a small nod to Dennis, as though silently asking if he was ready.


    I took the moment instead. "Are you okay?" I whispered to Dennis.


    He huffed out a humourless scoff. "I can’t be in a worse state than you."


    I shook my head and looked away, but relief loosened something inside me. <i>’If Dennis can still joke, he’s holding together better than he appears.’</i>


    Just then, thetch clinked from the other side, and the iron door pulled open to reveal a woman in her forties. Her eyes widened slightly before she bowed deeply.


    "Alpha Draven," she greeted respectfully, then turned to Dennis with a softer, "Sir Dennis."


    Finally, her gazended on me for a brief moment before she bent in an even deeper bow. "Luna."


    I acknowledged her with a nod.


    "Is she awake?" Draven asked.


    "Yes, Alpha," the woman replied. "She is in her room, reading."


    <i>Reading?</i> Somehow, that eased my chest.


    The woman stepped aside, allowing us in. The door shut behind us with a low echo.


    I inhaled slowly, expecting cold stone, dust, and darkness, but instead, my eyes widened.


    The underground apartment was warm, softly lit by goldenmps. Fresh flowers in vases brightened corners of the room, and the faint scent of chamomile and mint drifted through the air.


    This wasn’t prison, not even close. Here was quiet, peaceful—a haven built for someone fragile.


    <i>’So Draven hadn’t lied.’</i>


    Their mother wasn’t trapped here. She was hiding from her illness, from her memories, from a world she couldn’t navigate anymore.


    I stood still for a moment, letting that truth settle.


    "I will let her know you are here to see her," the caretaker offered, her eyes on Draven.


    But Draven immediately shook his head. "No need," he said quietly. "That will be more work for you."


    I understood instantly. He didn’t want her hurrying in and out, trying to prepare his mother or soothe her if she became confused.


    And he didn’t want to give the woman even a second of unnecessary stress, probably because he knew precisely how unpredictable his mother’s reactions could be.


    Then Draven turned to me. "Sit here and wait," he said softly. "Dennis and I will go in first."


    I nodded without protest. I knew he was not trying to shut me out. He was trying to protect me. And more importantly, he was trying to protect his mother from the shock of a stranger’s presence.


    I lowered myself onto one of the sofas, folding my hands on myp as I watched them.


    The two brothers walked toward the inner door side by side—Dennis stiff, Draven steady. When they reached it, Draven gave a small nod.


    Dennis inhaled. Then Draven opened the door, and they slipped inside. The door closed behind them with a dull, heavy thud.


    "Luna," the caretaker said gently, "what would you like to have?"


    I shook my head. "I’m fine. Thank you."


    She nodded respectfully and retreated, leaving me alone.


    The room fell so quiet I could hear the faint hum of venttion in the walls, and the soft crackle of incense burning somewhere nearby.


    I exhaled slowly as my eyes drifted back to the inner door.


    Just then, a muffled but unmistakable voice reached me—Draven’s low, careful, gentle voice.


    "Mother."


    The sound sent a ripple through my chest, a mixture of anticipation, worry, and something else. Something softer.


    I sat forward slightly, my heart steady but alert.


    Whatever happened behind that door, I was about to witness the aftermath. And finally, see the woman who raised the Alpha I loved.