Chapter 2 The Tether of the Talisman

The tension in the air was so thick it felt like a physical weight pressing against Scarlett’s chest. Her wrist was still trapped in Caleb’s iron grip, and the cold water from the tub had soaked into the hem of her silk robe, but she barely noticed. Her entire world had narrowed down to the golden, predatory eyes staring into hers.

Caleb’s strength was terrifying. Even in this weakened state, his fingers felt like steel shackles that could snap her bone with a mere thought. The silence of the marble bathroom was broken only by the ragged, guttural sound of his breathing. He looked like a fallen god—beautiful, broken, and lethally dangerous.

"Let go," Scarlett said, her voice dropping to a low, commanding hum. She didn't struggle; she knew that against a Lycan King, any sign of resistance would only trigger his primal instinct to crush. "You’re hurting me, Caleb."

His pupils, narrow slits of molten gold, flickered at the sound of his name. He tilted his head with an animalistic curiosity, sniffing the air between them. "You... smell like silver and scorched ink," he rasped, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "Who are you to call me by that name?"

"I’m the only thing standing between you and a permanent grave," Scarlett retorted, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. She could feel the dark, oily aura of the curse swirling around his chest, fighting against his natural Lycan healing. It wasn't just physical; it was a soul-shattering hex that had been designed to lobotomize his inner wolf.

With a swift, practiced motion of her free hand, she snapped a yellow slip of paper between her fingers. This was no ordinary paper; it was a Spirit-Calming Seal she had spent years perfecting in her previous life.

"By the elements that bind the soul, be still!" she whispered.

With a soft whoosh, the talisman ignited into a pale blue flame. It didn't burn her skin; instead, the ethereal smoke spiraled downward, coiling around Caleb’s throat like a phantom necklace. The effect was instantaneous. The rigid tension in his muscles dissolved, and his hand slumped away from her wrist, splashing back into the crimson-stained water.

Caleb gasped, his head hitting the marble rim of the tub with a heavy thud. The golden fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a hazy, vulnerable fog. "What did you... do to me? My head feels... quiet."

"I stabilized your spirit," Scarlett exhaled, rubbing her bruised wrist. The marks were already turning a deep purple. If she hadn't used the seal, he would have killed her out of pure, instinctual fear. "Someone placed a soul-fracturing curse on you. Every time you try to remember, the magic tears at your mind. My talisman is a temporary anchor."

Caleb looked at her, his gaze wandering from her bruised wrist to the flickering blue embers of the burnt paper. "Caleb... is that truly who I am?"

Scarlett froze. This was the crossroads. In the original novel, the villainess would have leaned in, whispered sweet lies about their 'eternal love,' and cemented her control over the amnesiac king. But as she looked at him—a man reduced to a wounded animal in a bathtub—she felt a pang of shared isolation. They were both strangers in this body, in this world.

"It’s a name," she said vaguely, stepping back to gather a stack of thick, black towels. "Whether it belongs to you or not is something you'll have to figure out once you can stand without trembling. For now, you are a patient, and I am the woman who isn't going to let you die."

She didn't tell him he was a King. She didn't tell him about their fake engagement. She needed him useful, but she needed him unaware while she built her escape fund.

"Why help me?" Caleb’s voice was more human now, but it still carried that low, vibrations-in-the-chest rumble that signaled his Alpha nature. "In this city, nobody does anything for free."

Scarlett paused at the door, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. She thought about the ninety-day countdown ticking in her head like a time bomb. "Because I have an appointment with a Blood Moon in three months, and I’d prefer not to spend it being hunted by a man who thinks I’m his enemy. Consider this an investment in my own survival."

She retreated to the bedroom, her heart finally slowing its frantic rhythm. She needed to check the safe. The diamonds were too traceable, but there had to be cash. As she pulled aside a velvet painting to reveal the hidden wall safe, a heavy thud from the bathroom made her bolt back.

Caleb was leaning heavily against the doorframe, a dark towel draped haphazardly over his broad shoulders. He was massive, his sheer physical presence seeming to shrink the room. Even scarred and pale, he looked like a predator that had forgotten its own strength.

"I can't... I can't feel my wolf," he whispered, a look of raw terror crossing his face. For a Lycan, losing the connection to their inner beast was worse than a death sentence.

Scarlett walked up to him, her head barely reaching the center of his chest. She reached out, her fingers hovering just an inch from the jagged scar over his heart. "He’s still there. He’s just sleeping, shielded by my magic. If he wakes up now, the curse will kill you both."

Caleb looked down at her, his eyes searching hers with a desperate intensity. Suddenly, he leaned forward, his forehead dropping onto her shoulder. He was heavy, smelling of the metallic tang of blood and the sharp, woody scent of her burnt incense.

"Then don't stop," he murmured against her neck, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Whatever you are... witch or savior... don't let me go back into the dark."

Scarlett stood frozen, her hands hovering mid-air, unsure whether to push him away or hold him up. She had intended to keep him at arm's length, to treat him like a medical project and then disappear. But as the legendary Lycan King clung to her like a drowning man, she realized her 'Exit Strategy' was becoming dangerously entangled with the man she was supposed to fear most.