5: Make Your Choice

Briar's POV 

“Marry me, little kitten. You want revenge on the people who wronged you? Marry me, become the luna of Fangshire, become the most powerful shewolf in the history of Fangshire, and use that power to destroy those that wronged you.”

The words repeated themselves in my mind. It made no logical sense why Azrael would say something like this to me, not even as a joke. But it wasn't a joke. His expression didn’t change. He remained casually seated, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, just watching me and waiting for my answer. 

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “Marry you? Is this some cruel joke?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” was his casual reply as he folded a leg over the other as if this were some random conversation.

An unsteady breath left me. I searched his face for any trace of sarcasm, some sign that this was a twisted prank, but there was nothing. Just those cold, calculating eyes observing me like I was an object he’d already decided the use for. Like my reply wasn't going to change the future he already decided for me.

“You’re joking,” I tried again because it was the only explanation my mind could cling to. “You have to be. You can’t possibly mean that.”

“I don’t joke,” he said simply, and the firmness in his tone pushed away the last bit of denial I was clinging to.

He was damn serious.

My mouth fell open a little. It felt like I was hearing things wrong, like maybe exhaustion or trauma from yesterday had finally snapped something in my brain. 

“But why?” I asked quietly, because there was simply no other question to ask. “Why would you ask me that? Why me of all people? You don't even know me.”

“You shouldn't be concerned about that, little kitten.” he leaned forward, and it suddenly became a herculean task to breathe with the intensity of how he was looking at me. “Focus on what I am offering you. A throne, power, and protection. The means to destroy the people who wronged you. Take it as payment for saving my life.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t want that,” I said immediately. I couldn't imagine being married to him, with how vile and dangerous he is. “I don’t want a crown or a throne or power. Freedom is enough payment, not marriage to you.”

He studied me carefully, as though trying to decide if I was telling the truth or if I was playing a role. 

“You don’t seem to care much about power.”

I shook my head. “I don’t. I’ve never wanted power. I just want to live. I just want to be alive and… happy. That’s it.”

He leaned forward slightly, his attention pinning me to the spot again. 

“That’s such a pity. There's so much you could be with a Luna’s power,” he mused, observing me carefully. When he spoke again, his voice now carried a weight that made the room feel smaller. “It’s either you become the Luna Queen of Fangshire, or you return to the asylum to live out the rest of your days.”

I felt my breath catch at the bluntness of it. No pretense. No gentle phrasing. Just cold, sharp truth. The kind that cut you before you even processed it. 

My hands balled into fists against my thighs as panic tried to claw its way up my throat. I didn’t want to go back there. I could still feel the cold hands dragging me toward that burning iron. I could still hear it crackle as it heated. I could still smell the smoke.

“You can’t just—” I stopped because the look on his face said he absolutely could. And he absolutely would. He wasn’t bluffing.

“Why?” I asked again because this still didn't make any sense. “Why me? Why do you want to marry me?”

His eyes locked on mine, and I suddenly felt stripped down to the bone. 

“Because two things that have never happened in my life occurred when I met you on that train.” 

My breath stilled. His voice had changed slightly—still controlled, but there was something underneath it. I waited for him to explain, and after a pause, he continued.

“The first is that you cured me of something that has been my greatest weakness. I’ve used countless seers and healers over the centuries, but none have found a cure. Curing me of a weakness that my enemies would capitalise on if they ever find out makes you a perfect bride for me.”

I exhaled slowly. “And what’s the second thing?” 

If saving him was the first, then the second one had to be even more significant.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered with something that almost resembled irritation or restraint. 

“That is private.”

“Private?” I repeated, confused and frustrated. “You can’t say something like that and expect me not to ask. If you want me to consider something as big as this, I deserve to know the truth.”

“That reason is not up for discussion,” he replied calmly, but there was a note of finality in his voice that made it clear the subject was closed. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head. “If you want me to make a decision, I should at least know why you—”

“Enough, Briar.” His tone cut through my words like a blade.

I froze.

He took a slow breath, then looked at me with the kind of controlled intensity that made my skin prickle. 

“This is not a negotiation. I am not asking you out of affection or sentiment. I am offering you a choice with two outcomes. You may either return to the asylum and live out the rest of your days there…” His gaze held mine firmly, stripping away any illusion of escape.

“Or,” he continued, “you may become the Luna of Fangshire.”

And he said it as though the entire city had already been arranged around this outcome, and I was the only one who hadn’t realized it yet.

My throat tightened, and my palms were sweaty. My heartbeat felt trapped inside my ribs, fluttering and clawing to get free. I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn’t come out.

“I’m giving you options. You are free to choose whichever one you want.”

Free? Nothing about this was free. Nothing about him had ever been free. But the reality was right there in front of me: a life of torment and eventual death in the asylum, or a marriage to the most feared man in Fangshire, a man whose motives I couldn’t understand and whose intentions I couldn’t trust.

I swallowed hard, my pulse thudding painfully, my thoughts spinning. None of this felt real. But his eyes stayed on me, unwavering, as if he were waiting to see how long it would take me to accept the inevitable.

“Now,” he said quietly, shutting every door except the two he placed before me, “choose, little kitten. Return to the asylum… or become the Luna of Fangshire.”