She didn't speak the whole carriage ride.
The Duke didn't ask.
He sat across from her, silent as the moon, with eyes that flickered from wolf to man. He studied her — the bruises, the cuts, the dirt on her cheeks. But never once did he look at her with pity.
No… he looked at her like a puzzle. Something precious, broken, and worth fixing.
The mansion was a world she didn't belong to.
Too bright. Too clean. Too silent.
Her feet sank into soft carpets. Her head spun from the smell of candles and bread. Her fingers twitched when a maid touched her shoulder, offering her clean clothes.
"You're safe now," the Duke said, standing like a shadow in the hall.
She didn't reply.
Safe?No place is safe.Not for girls like her.
That night, they showed her to a room bigger than anything she'd ever seen. Velvet curtains. Gold-trimmed walls. A fireplace that didn't burn with fear, but with warmth.
She sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Her body clean, her wounds bandaged. But her soul?
Still bleeding.
She didn't trust this. Didn't trust him.People don't help unless they want something.
The door creaked.
Her head shot up, eyes wide. A voice — younger, smooth, curious.
"So you're the little stray Father picked up?"
A boy stood there. No older than twelve. Silver hair, sharp eyes, the kind of smirk that made her blood boil. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"You look smaller up close."
She said nothing.
Another voice appeared behind him.
"Aero, don't be mean."
A second boy entered. Taller, softer eyes, with warm brown curls and the kind of energy that reminded her of a sunbeam. He held a tray of food and stepped toward her carefully, like approaching a scared animal.
"I'm Ren. He's Aero. We're your brothers now… I guess."
Brothers?
Her throat tightened. She hadn't had a family in so long the word made her dizzy.
Ren knelt and placed the tray on her lap.
"I made you soup. Well, I helped. You look cold."
She stared down at it. Her hands trembled.Too warm. Too kind. It felt wrong.
Aero rolled his eyes.
"Don't expect her to talk. Strays don't bite unless they're scared."
She looked up. Met his eyes.
And for the first time in years—She growled.
Soft. Low. But real.
Aero blinked. Then smirked.
"Hah. So you do have some bite."
Later that night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her body relaxed against the softness. Her mind didn't.The voices of the past kept whispering.
"You're trash.""You're nothing.""No one will love you."
But somewhere outside her door, she heard soft laughter. Boys. Talking. Living. Like it was normal.
Like it was okay.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
Maybe... just maybe… love starts with pain. But it doesn't end there.