My Nanny Hid Five Rogues Under My Floor
Juniper Marlow · Completed · 5.4k Words
Introduction
She never came. No first shift at sixteen. No stirring at eighteen. Nothing. My parents crossed the continent chasing rare awakening herbs—moonpetal, silverroot, anything with a rumor attached.
None of it worked.
I died without ever hearing her voice. Throat torn open in my own bed by Brennan Falk, the son of my live-in caretaker.
That's when I finally learned why she never woke.
The "awakening blend" Dorene brewed me every night was laced with wolfsbane. Enough to keep my wolf buried forever. Enough to keep me weak, wolfless, and easy to kill.
And the awakening chamber my parents built for me—the one I was too heartbroken to ever set foot in—had been housing her entire family. Five rogues, living under my floor for over a year, eating my food, selling my herbs, waiting for the right moment.
After I died, they forged my exile papers. My parents flew home from an herb auction in Ashmoor to an empty house and a letter. They believed their daughter had given up and left the pack.
Then I opened my eyes. Three days before Brennan's fangs.
The first thing I did was text a witch about the awakening chamber.
Chapter 1
I waited twenty years for my wolf.
She never came. No first shift at sixteen. No stirring at eighteen. Nothing. My parents crossed the continent chasing rare awakening herbs—moonpetal, silverroot, anything with a rumor attached.
None of it worked.
I died without ever hearing her voice. Throat torn open in my own bed by Brennan Falk, the son of my live-in caretaker.
That's when I finally learned why she never woke.
The "awakening blend" Dorene brewed me every night was laced with wolfsbane. Enough to keep my wolf buried forever. Enough to keep me weak, wolfless, and easy to kill.
And the awakening chamber my parents built for me—the one I was too heartbroken to ever set foot in—had been housing her entire family. Five rogues, living under my floor for over a year, eating my food, selling my herbs, waiting for the right moment.
After I died, they forged my exile papers. My parents flew home from an herb auction in Ashmoor to an empty house and a letter. They believed their daughter had given up and left the pack.
Then I opened my eyes. Three days before Brennan's fangs.
The first thing I did was text a witch about the awakening chamber.
I was mid-message when a floorboard creaked outside my door.
I shoved the phone under my blanket.
"Sweetheart? Still up?"
Dorene Falk, the live-in caretaker I'd hired a year ago, stood in the doorway. Half her face caught the hallway light. The other half smiled from the dark.
"Couldn't sleep." I kept my voice steady. "I've been thinking about the awakening chamber. I want to get it renovated before Mom and Dad come back from Ashmoor."
Something crossed her face. Gone in a blink.
"That old room? Sweetheart, it's been shut for years. The magic down there has gone unstable. Not safe for a dormant wolf."
"That's why I'm hiring a witch to fix it."
She didn't push it. Instead she set a steaming cup on my nightstand. Same cup. Same bitter edge under the herbs that I'd never been able to name.
"Your awakening blend. Every dose counts, sweetheart—your mother would be heartbroken if you skipped."
Every dose counts. I'd heard that line my whole life. From my mother's tearful video calls. From the herb schedule taped to my kitchen wall. Now from the woman who'd been using it to poison me.
"I know. Thanks, Dorene."
She watched me pick up the cup. I brought it to my lips and held it there.
"Drink it all. Cold tea upsets the stomach."
"I will."
The door clicked shut. I carried the cup to the bathroom and poured it down the drain.
Then I climbed back into bed and closed my eyes.
She came back. Maybe ten minutes later. The door eased open just wide enough for a hand to reach the nightstand.
She picked up the empty cup. A quiet, satisfied breath.
The door closed.
I gave it another half hour. Then I slid out of bed barefoot, crept to the top of the stairs, and pressed myself flat against the railing.
Below me, Dorene walked to the far end of the living room and pulled a key from her pocket. She unlocked the ward-door to the awakening chamber—the room my parents had built for me, the room I'd never once entered—and pushed it open.
Five people climbed out.
Gareth, her mate, went straight for my refrigerator. Edith, his mother, made a line for the wine cabinet. Petra, Dorene's teenage daughter, dropped onto my couch and tore open a bag of chips.
Clive, Dorene's younger brother, hung back near the stairs. His shoulders were tight.
"Keep it down." He glanced up toward the second floor. "We're deep inside Silver Ridge territory. Patrols catch a rogue's scent out here, they don't make arrests. They put us down."
"No patrols come this far." Dorene bit into an apple—my imported apples. "The girl won't allow cameras. Won't allow ward-stones. Won't even let sentries near the property line." She dropped into my armchair. "This house is the safest place in the whole territory for us."
Petra kicked her feet up on the coffee table. "What if she hears us one night?"
"Hears us?" Dorene laughed. "I doubled the wolfsbane tonight. She could sleep through a full-moon run."
She tossed the apple core onto my carpet.
"Her parents are in Ashmoor right now, bidding a fortune on moonpetal that'll never work. And every night, I pour the reason it'll never work straight into her cup."
The whole room laughed.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Moonpetal goes for six figures a stem at auction. My parents were across the continent right now, bidding on hope for me.
And every night for the past year, Dorene had been killing it with a teacup.
My back was soaked through with cold sweat. I didn't move. I didn't breathe.
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