Chapter 8

Elara'S POV

They hadn’t bothered with chains this time. I huddled in the corner of the cold stone cell, knees drawn to my chest, staring at nothing while regret carved deeper grooves into my heart. Orion was safe for now but I’d never hold him again, never hear his laugh or scold him for being reckless.

All the running, all the hiding, and it ended with me trading my life for his. I should have let the hunters take me years ago and spared him this world entirely.

Would those hunters follow my trail here? Would the Penumbra lords hand me over like a neatly wrapped gift? Somehow I doubted it. Men like these didn’t share their possessions, not even with bounty hunters. My brother had stolen a single enchanted rose, and look where it landed me property of three of the most dangerous criminals in the supernatural underworld.

When Garrick and his hired blades came knocking, these three would have a fight on their hands. Part of me almost hoped the hunters would win. At least then I might slip away in the chaos.

I hugged my arms tighter, trying to chase away the damp chill seeping through the walls. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Garrick had always sneered that I’d end up a broken-down whore in some gutter. Well, here I was, in a literal dungeon. The ironic thing? I’d take this freezing cell over his cloying, possessive presence any day.

One cage for another. One monster for three.

Though these monsters felt… different. Raw. Unpolished. Garrick hid his cruelty behind expensive suits and political smiles. Xavier, Lysander, and Kaelen wore theirs openly, like armor. I wasn’t naive enough to think that made them safer. If anything, it made them more dangerous. They wouldn’t bother with pretty lies before they used me up.

Why couldn’t they simply end it? A quick death would be mercy compared to whatever slow ruin they had planned.

The heavy iron door screeched open, jolting me upright. Lysander filled the doorway, broad shoulders nearly brushing both sides. Every instinct screamed predator. I scrambled to my feet, back pressed to the rough wall, heart slamming against my ribs.

He stepped inside and shut the door with a quiet thud. Those eyes molten gold fixed on me, a wolf riding close beneath his skin. I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried. Without my wand, without magic, I was just a witch with no claws.

He approached slowly, deliberately, the way a wolf circles something it’s decided to claim. Heat rolled off him in waves, cutting through the cell’s icy bite. When he stopped, barely an inch separated us. I could feel the thrum of his energy against my skin.

I didn’t mean to lean into that warmth, but my traitorous body swayed forward anyway. His face lowered, nose skimming my hair, breathing me in like I was something rare and edible. A low, rolling growl vibrated through his chest primal, hungry. It shivered straight through me.

“Christ,” he muttered, voice rough.

I flinched. What the hell had I done to earn that?

He braced both palms against the wall on either side of my head, caging me without touching. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Then his nose traced down my temple, along the line of my throat. My pulse raced, breath catching in shallow sips. I’d gone to school with wolves, but I’d never been this close to one who wasn’t leashed by a Kaelenmy rules.

“What… what are you doing?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. My hands clenched at my sides; if I touched him, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop whatever this was.

He grazed my earlobe with his teeth, gentle but deliberate. I sucked in a sharp breath. He smelled like forest and storm, wild and clean, and it was dizzying.

“ Xavier,” I managed, forcing the name out like a shield.

Lysander drew back just far enough to meet my eyes. “Don’t let him break you. He needs you whole.”

Whole? That made no sense. I was here to be used, bled, discarded. That was the bargain.

“Why tell me that?”

His jaw flexed. “Because it’s true. And because… hell, maybe I need you too.”

My stomach twisted. So much for hoping the others would leave me to the vampire alone. I hadn’t signed up to be passed around like a communal trophy.

“Come on,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping back. “I’ll take you to your room.”

I stared, certain I’d misheard. “My… room?”

He nodded once, already turning toward the door. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Numb and wary, I followed him out of the cell. We moved through the sprawling mansion in tense silence me trailing a few steps behind, him glancing back every few seconds as if expecting me to bolt. The place was imposing: vaulted ceilings, polished dark wood, flickering sconces that threw long shadows across marble floors. We climbed a sweeping staircase to the third floor, footsteps echoing.

At the end of a wide corridor, he opened a door and gestured me inside.

I stepped past him cautiously, then stopped. The room was enormous and absurdly luxurious a roaring fire in the grate, heavy cedar wardrobe, writing desk, and a massive four-poster bed draped in deep plum silk. Thick rugs softened the hardwood. A single tall window looked out over snow-dusted grounds.

Something about it felt… off. Too perfect. Tailored. Like someone had prepared it expecting me. I crossed to the wardrobe and opened it. Rows of dresses hung inside elegant, expensive, all in shades of violet, indigo, and black. My size.

I turned slowly, arms folded tight across my chest. Lysander lingered in the doorway, watching.

“Whose room was this?” I asked quietly.

He hesitated. “It’s yours now.”

I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. But I was too exhausted, too overwhelmed, to push it tonight.

Tomorrow will come soon enough. And with it, whatever price they intended to exact.