CHAPTER 103: WELCOME TO PARIS

*~ Hazel’s POV~*

After driving for what seems like days we finally reached our destination. I won’t lie...the city of Paris was very much alive. Vibrant. Buzzing with elegance.

As we drove through the streets, everything shimmered under the golden sunset. The people were flawlessly dressed, perfectly styled, like they’d stepped out of a Vogue spread. Flowers bloomed on balconies, soft music played from open cafés, and every corner of the city felt touched by magic. Even the stone pavements had character, like they held secrets of centuries past.

"Do you have any idea where we’re going?" I asked, turning to Cyrius.

He didn’t answer. He just pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of a massive, breathtaking building.

"Just follow me," he said.

I rolled my eyes as he stepped out, rounding to open my door like a perfect gentleman—as if he hadn’t just kidnapped me and forced me halfway across Europe. Still, I allowed it, stepping out carefully, clutching my babies to my chest.

We approached the entrance, and a guard stepped forward to block us.

"I’m looking for Mr. Alexander," Cyrius said coolly. "Pont Alexander III."

The guard raised a brow. "Name?"

"Tell him I’m Cyrius Salvatore."

That got the reaction he was looking for.

The guard nodded and disappeared. A few minutes later, he returned and silently pushed the grand doors open for us.

And oh my stars.

My jaw dropped.

The foyer alone looked like it belonged in a royal castle. Fresh roses filled every vase. Massive oil portraits lined the walls. Velvet and marble and gold—everywhere. It was like stepping into one of those historical romance novels I used to devour as a teenager.

We climbed stairs that seemed to stretch forever. I was already panting when Cyrius turned and smirked at me.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked. "You and the twins? I don’t mind."

I glared at him. "No."

Finally, we stopped in front of an enormous double door. It creaked open, and out stepped a man—no taller than 5’1", round and heavyset with a thick beard and an unmistakable air of wealth. The scent of expensive cologne couldn’t hide the overpowering stench of cigarettes.

The moment he laid eyes on Cyrius, his eyes lit up. "Oh mon Dieu! Cyrius, you’re alive!"

He barreled forward and hugged him tightly, revealing a crooked grin full of yellow-stained teeth. I instinctively turned my baby’s head away, covering their nose. Ew.

"What kind of man is this?" I muttered.

Cyrius gave a polite smile. "Let’s just say... I’ve been away. For years."

The man laughed heartily, then turned his eyes to me. "And who is this beautiful lady?"

He reached for my hand and said something in French—probably "darling" or "enchantée" or whatever Parisian nonsense he was spewing.

Cyrius stepped in smoothly. "This is my wife. And my children. Her name is Esther."

Esther? I blinked, giving Cyrius a look that screamed excuse me?

He didn’t flinch. "Yes. Esther."

I turned back to the man, forcing a tight smile as he kissed my hand. My whole body screamed ick, but I kept it together. If Cyrius had given me that name, there was a reason—and I’d figure it out later.

We were ushered inside, and the two men sat me down before disappearing into a side room to talk.

Of course, that’s when the twins started crying.

I adjusted my dress and began to breastfeed them, all while keeping my eyes sharp, alert. This place was beautiful, yes—but I didn’t trust a single soul in it.

Still... I couldn’t deny the grandeur. The whole building looked like it had stood for over a hundred years. Maybe longer. Decades upon decades of wealth and history etched into every inch. It was almost too perfect.

A little too curated.

Eventually, Cyrius returned, standing tall in the doorway.

"Esther," he said, "you’ll be staying here for a while."

I narrowed my eyes. He ignored my expression and continued.

"We’re attending a ball tonight. The Pax of Paris is hosting it—an old alliance that governs this territory. We’re now going to be legally part of their pack."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"This house? It belongs to one of the highest houses of the Pax. Why do you think it’s so lavish?" he replied.

He was smiling now, proud of his plan. "I won’t be holding any official rank here, of course. I have my own pack to build. But they’ll support me. That’s the agreement."

He moved toward me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear with far too much ease.

"So get ready," he said smoothly. " bring your dancing foot."

I glared at him, outraged. What on earth was he thinking? First, he’d dragged me halfway across the world to Paris—far, far from New Orleans. Then he’d changed my name. Then he’d declared I was his wife and my babies were his heirs. And now he was whisking me off to... Ebola? I couldn’t believe it.

"Why are we even keeping the babies here?" I hissed, my voice echoing off the marble walls. "You want to do this in public? Let me tell everyone you’re an abductor!"

He only turned calmly, as if reading from a script. "Shut up."

I bit back a retort, furious. "I’m doing this for your own damn sake! You think you’re happy back in New Orleans—problems this, problems that. Do you really believe Cayden and Caspian can protect our children better than I can?"

His expression softened—just a fraction. "You and the babies aren’t safe there," he said. "Here, I can make a better life for you all. Don’t make this hard, Hazel."

I pressed my lips together, struggling to understand. If I wanted any hope of ever escaping, I’d have to play along—make him drop his guard. There was no way he’d let me go, not after everything he’d put me through last time.

He stepped closer, a silk-smile curling across his lips. "So from now on, you are mine and I’m yours Hazel.’"

"What happened to Esther?" I snapped, but his grin only widened.

"Yeah I gave you that because it suits you far better," he said, eyes dancing with amusement.

I tried to stay angry, but a reluctant chuckle escaped me. He spun around and began to dance down the hallway, arms outstretched, marveling at the grandeur of the place.

He was nothing like Cayden or Caspian. Cayden was rigid, monstrous even; Caspian always stoic, a perfect gentleman. Cyrius, by contrast, was childlike and mischievous.. The only thing all three have alike is their Face-card... so ethereal.

He stopped in front of a magnificent door. "This is our room," he proclaimed grandly. "Yours, mine, and the twins’..all under one roof in this... adorable palace."

He swung the door open. Inside lay a chamber as vast as any I’d seen back in New Orleans, but infinitely more refined..silk drapes, marble floors, velvet chaise longues. My breath caught at the sight.

My gaze drifted to the feast laid out on a nearby table: steaming platters of fresh bread, fruits gleaming like jewels, cheeses and meats so artfully arranged they were almost too beautiful to eat.

He caught my eye. "The Alpha of this pack wanted to make a good impression. He knows that when we take over Blue Moon, I’ll help develop his territory. A win-win for both of us."

He sat me down on a plush chair. "Eat, my wife. I’ll prepare for the ball. Please—tell me you know how to dance. Or we can practice right here. I can’t have you tripping all over the ballroom floor."

I watched him leave, then sank my twins gently into their bassinets and turned to the table. My stomach grumbled in protest—my first real meal in days.

I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the scent of freshly baked bread. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I carved off a hunk of crust and bit into its warm, buttery center. This might be a gilded cage, but for now... it was at least a delicious one.

After eating, I sank onto the bed, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the ceiling. I was still chewing on the last bite when I heard a knock at the door.

I got up to open it, and two maids entered, dragging in a massive dress box between them.

"This dress was sent by Alpha Pont Alexander," one of them announced. "It’s a gift—for the ball tonight."

A gift? From who now?

I watched as my mouth practically dropped open. Even before they unwrapped it completely, I could already see the beauty shining through the layers of packaging.

Red.

It was a deep, bold red gown, shimmering with elegance. Every detail was perfect—the embroidery, the beading, the dramatic sweep of the skirt. It looked like something a queen would wear to war and still come out the most beautiful in the room.

The maids gently laid the dress on the bed like it was sacred, then curtsied.

"We’ll return in the evening when it’s almost time," they said.

I smirked, eyes still fixed on the gown. Everyone seemed way too excited about this ball. This pack clearly lived for events like this, which only meant one thing:

Something big was going to happen tonight.

And I better brace myself..because whatever it is, I need to be ready to protect my babies.