CHAPTER 4 – The Cage of Protection

(Afnan’s POV)

The east wing smells the same.

Pine, old wood, faint traces of smoke and him. Always him.

The guards leave after locking the heavy door behind me. The sound of the bolt sliding into place feels louder than it should, echoing through the quiet halls. I’m not sure what hurts more that he ordered it or that part of me expected it.

I stand in the middle of the room, letting the memories claw at me for a minute before I shove them back down. The twins sleep on the bed, their small bodies curled together like two tiny stars that don’t know they’re shining in enemy skies.

I brush a damp curl off my daughter’s forehead and whisper, “You’re safe, my love. No one’s taking you from me.”

It’s a promise.

It’s also a lie because in this house, nothing is ever safe.

The door opens behind me, slow and deliberate.

I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

Delph doesn’t knock. He never did.

His presence fills the space before he even speaks, heavy, commanding, familiar enough to make my wolf stir restlessly.

“You’re trembling,” he says. His voice is low, rough around the edges, like it hasn’t been used to speak softly in years.

I keep my back to him. “From the rain.”

He scoffs quietly. “From me.”

I finally turned. He’s leaning against the doorframe, black shirt damp from the storm, eyes darker than I remember. He’s shed the Alpha mask for now, but what’s underneath is more dangerous regret, suspicion, maybe even longing.

“I shouldn’t have had you brought here,” he says. “You should’ve been questioned in front of the Council.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

His jaw tightens. “Because I didn’t want them touching you.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then the smallest, cruelest smile pulls at my lips. “You didn’t want anyone else to dirty what you already ruined?”

He flinches just barely, but I see it.

Good. Let him feel something.

His gaze shifts to the bed. The twins.

The room seems to still be around them.

“They’re yours?” The words sound more like a plea than a question.

“They’re mine,” I answer, lifting my chin.

His eyes search my face for a lie, something to hold on to that makes this easier to bear. He doesn’t find it.

The air between us changes sharp, fragile, humming with things neither of us wants to say.

“I could order a test,” he says, though his voice cracks slightly.

“You could,” I reply evenly. “But you already know, don’t you?”

He exhales slowly, like the weight of truth is pressing down on his chest. “You left,” he says quietly. “You walked away from me. From this pack.”

“You rejected me.”

“I had to protect…”

“Don’t,” I cut in, stepping closer. “Don’t you dare justify what you did with duty. You didn’t protect me. You broke me. And you did it in front of everyone.”

He closes his eyes. “I know.”

The words hang there, soft and raw, and for a moment he’s not the Alpha anymore, just a man drowning in his own mistakes.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re softer. “You should’ve told me.”

I shake my head. “You would’ve used them as leverage against the Council. My children are not pawns, Delph.”

A shadow crosses his expression, something between pride and pain. “You think I’d hurt them?”

“I think you’d do anything for power. You always have.”

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, the pull that never really left. My pulse betrays me, but I don’t step back.

“I did it to save the pack,” he murmurs.

“And I did this to save myself,” I whisper back. “We’re even.”

Our eyes lock years of hurt and love colliding in one silent storm. His hand lifts slightly, like he wants to touch me, to brush the stray strands of hair from my face. But then he sees the twins again and lets it fall.

He turns away. “You’ll stay here until I decide what’s next.”

I laugh softly. “A cage is still a cage, no matter how pretty the walls are.”

He pauses at the door. “Then consider it protection.”

“For who?” I ask quietly. “Me… or you?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just leaves, closing the door behind him.

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with things unsaid.

I sink onto the bed beside the twins and stare at the ceiling until my eyes burn.

Maybe he thinks this room can cage me again.

Maybe he’s forgotten cages don’t hold wolves who’ve already learned how to break free.