Rise of the Banished She-Wolf (Evelyn) novel Chapter 10

**Where Falling Leaves Whisper Stories Written In Silence by Ryn Jace Reed**
**Chapter 10**

Evelyn

With a heavy heart and a resigned sigh, I inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open, revealing the modest confines of my temporary abode. The room was small, almost claustrophobic, housing nothing more than a twin bed draped in a faded comforter, a rickety desk that creaked ominously under the slightest pressure, and a chair that looked as if it had survived decades of neglect. The bathroom door, slightly ajar on the far wall, revealed chipped tiles and a shower curtain that had clearly seen better days, its once-vibrant colors now dulled by time.

Devon stepped through the threshold without so much as a glance back, his tall frame making the already cramped space feel even smaller. His eyes narrowed as he took in my living conditions, scrutinizing the water stains that marred the ceiling and the flimsy lock on the single window that offered a meager glimpse of the outside world.

“This is where you’ve been staying?” His voice was even, yet I could detect the undercurrent of judgment woven into his words.

“It’s only temporary,” I replied defensively, leaning against the doorframe, deliberately keeping some distance between us. There was something about his presence that made me feel exposed, vulnerable. “I told you, I’m searching for something more permanent.”

Devon moved toward the window, testing its strength with a firm push. It slid open with an alarming ease, as if inviting trouble. “This lock is utterly useless,” he muttered, more to himself than to me, his frustration palpable. “Anyone could waltz in here with minimal effort.”

Crossing my arms protectively, I shot back, “I’ve managed just fine so far.”

He turned to face me, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. “This place isn’t safe for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” I challenged, arching an eyebrow, my heart racing at the implication.

“A lone wolf with enemies,” he clarified, his tone firm yet tinged with concern. “Those men who attacked me that night in Portland were armed with silver bullets. They’re hunters, Evelyn. If they tracked me to Seattle, they could very well track you too.”

I wanted to argue, to dismiss his concerns as overblown, but the cold logic of his words held weight. Silver bullets meant hunters, and hunters rarely stopped until their quarry was eliminated. Yet, I wasn’t about to concede that he was right.

Devon continued his inspection, checking the flimsy chain lock on the door and the bathroom window, which also opened far too easily. When he returned to the main room, a sense of resolution seemed to settle over him.

“Pack your things,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “I have a safer place for you to stay.”

I stood my ground, defiance coursing through me. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Hall, but I can take care of myself.”

His eyes flashed with a hint of alpha power, not enough to compel me, but sufficient to convey his frustration. “This isn’t about your independence. It’s about practical safety. This motel room might as well have a welcome sign for hunters.”

We locked gazes, the tension thick between us. Part of me wanted to refuse him on principle—I had survived three years on my own, after all. Yet another part of me, the rational side, acknowledged the truth in his words. This room was laughably insecure.

“The windows and doors are reinforced,” Devon continued, pointing to the nearly invisible seams. “They can withstand significant force and are lined with a special material that helps block silver particulates from entering.”

Running my fingers along the window frame, I marveled at the unusual density of the glass. “Rich people really do inhabit a different world,” I muttered, half in awe. “Even your doors and windows can repel silver weapons.”

“It’s not merely about wealth,” Devon replied, though we both understood that was only a partial truth. “It’s about necessity. Our kind requires these protections.”

I turned to face him, still grappling with the complexity of his motives. “Why are you doing this? Why help me?”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed, pulling him away from our conversation. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting to one of concern. “I need to take this.” He stepped aside, speaking in low, urgent tones that sent a ripple of anxiety through me.

When he returned, his face was taut with tension. “I have to go. There’s an emergency at the company.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a business card, handing it to me with a sense of urgency. “I will bring you keys and basic supplies tomorrow morning. Lock the door behind me.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the luxurious apartment. I stood in the center of the living room, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me—gratitude, suspicion, and a flicker of hope.

Approaching the windows, I gazed out at the city lights beginning to twinkle as dusk settled in. The view was nothing short of spectacular, yet all I could think about was how to take revenge…