Chapter 7: Consequences

Dahlia’s P.O.V

I feel my heart thrash violently against my ribs as I stare at Alpha Killian, his piercing green eyes—eyes that had been filled with something dangerously close to longing just moments ago—now nothing but cold, demanding ice. My breath catches in my throat, and for a fleeting second, I wonder what kind of wicked curse has wrapped its claws around him, stripping him of warmth and reason. But I push the thought away. It won’t save me now.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as I try to find the right words, the safe words, if such things even exist in this moment. The weight of his stare makes my skin prickle with unease, and I know I am standing on the edge of a blade, the wrong move capable of cutting me deeper than I can afford. If I lie—if I tell him I’ve never heard of the curse—will he see through it? Will he punish me for deceit, strip me of whatever fragile ground I still stand on?

The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine. But if I tell him the truth? If I confess to knowing about the curse, about the whispers in the dark, the things I have overheard but never dared to speak aloud, what then? What if the truth holds consequences far worse than the lie ever could?

Killian’s fingers flex at his side, his jaw tightening ever so slightly, and I can feel the sharp edge of his patience beginning to fray. He won’t wait forever. And that was what scared me.

“Well?” His voice is low, smooth, but there’s an underlying threat in it, like a knife being unsheathed, a promise of consequences if I make him wait a second longer.

My throat tightens. I force myself to stand taller, to not let him see the full extent of the storm raging inside me. “I…” I hesitate, cursing myself for the weakness, but the words feel heavy, tangled, dangerous. “I have heard of it,” I admit finally, my voice barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it might as well be a scream.

Something dark flickers in his gaze, something unreadable, and for a moment, I wish I had lied.

Killian doesn’t react right away. He tilts his head slightly, studying me, the weight of his scrutiny making my knees feel unsteady. Then, with the slow precision that makes my stomach twist, he takes a step toward me.  “Hear of what, Dahlia?” he asks, his voice low, almost quiet—but it carries, filling the space between us like a threat. 

I swallow hard, my throat dry as sandpaper as I force myself to meet his gaze. Killian’s eyes, dark and unreadable, pin me to the spot like a predator sizing up its prey. The silence between us stretches, thick with unspoken words and something else—something sharp-edged and dangerous. My heart pounds so violently in my chest that I can barely hear my own thoughts, but I know I can’t stand here forever. I have to speak. I have to say something before he decides for me. 

My mind scrambles for a way out, but there is none. Lying to him would be foolish. Running? Even worse. And so, with no other choice, I take a shaky breath and force the words out. 

"I was here for a while," I confess, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "I heard you and Beta Damien talking about your—" I hesitate, feeling the air around us shift, "—your curse." 

The moment the word leaves my lips, a cold dread settles in my bones. Killian’s expression remains unchanged, but the energy in the room is different now, charged with something I can’t fully name. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches me, his silence heavier than any threat he could have uttered. 

Seconds stretch unbearably, and my mind begins to spiral. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted it. Maybe I should have lied. Maybe I won't walk out of here at all. 

Then—just as my breath hitches, just as my pulse spikes so high it threatens to choke me—Killian exhales. A long, slow sigh. And then, without a word, he moves aside. 

I blink, my breath caught in my throat. He’s letting me go. 

I don’t question it. I don’t hesitate. I step forward, slipping past him, my body tense as though expecting a trap, but he doesn’t stop me. And that’s almost worse than if he had. Because now I know—he's letting me leave, but this conversation? 

It isn't over.

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat as the weight of his words settled over me like a suffocating fog. My mind spun, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. Was this really happening? Was he truly letting me go so easily? I took a hesitant step forward, my heart pounding against my ribs, the sharp edges of my disbelief cutting into the fragile hope that had begun to flicker within me.   

"You’re not going to punish me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mixture of astonishment and trepidation. I had been prepared for anything—but not this. Not this eerie silence, not this unnerving smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, making it impossible for me to decipher what lay beneath.   

Killian’s gaze held mine, unwavering, unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, his smirk deepened, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Punish you?" he echoed, tilting his head as though the very idea intrigued him. "Now, why would I do that, Dahlia?"   

I swallowed hard, my hands clenched at my sides. "Because I…overheard," I admitted, forcing myself to hold my ground, though every instinct screamed at me to run. "Because I know more than I should." My voice was steadier now, despite the whirlwind of emotions clawing at my insides. "And yet... you're letting me go."   

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, rich and laced with something far more sinister than amusement. "Letting you go?" he mused, as if the words themselves were foreign to him, as if the concept was laughable. Then he stepped closer, his presence intoxicating, suffocating. "Oh, Dahlia, you misunderstand me." His fingers brushed against my chin, tilting my face up until I had no choice but to look into his eyes—those eyes that seemed to strip me bare, leaving nothing hidden. "I never said I was letting you go."   

My stomach twisted into a tight knot. The air between us grew thick, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. "Then what do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice sharper now, edged with frustration, with fear. "If you’re not punishing me, then what?"   

Killian exhaled slowly, as if savoring my confusion, as if enjoying the torment of my uncertainty. "As long as I don’t give the audience my verdict," he murmured, his voice velvety smooth, yet carrying an underlying threat that sent a shiver racing down my spine, "you will remain exactly where you are."   

The realization slammed into me like a tidal wave, drowning me in its cruel depths. "You’re keeping me tied to Cade," I whispered, my lips barely forming the words. The weight of it crushed my chest, making it difficult to breathe.   

Killian’s smirk widened, his fingers tracing along my jaw before dropping away, leaving a ghost of warmth in their absence. "For the rest of your life," he confirmed with a lazy shrug, as if the very idea was of little consequence to him. "Unless, of course, you find a way to make me change my mind."   

I sucked in a sharp breath, the sheer audacity of his game sending anger surging through my veins. He wasn’t letting me go. He was trapping me in an even crueler way, dangling the illusion of freedom before me only to snatch it away the moment I dared to believe in it.   

And worst of all? He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing. And he was enjoying every second of it.