C6

“I married a stranger to survive my enemy,” I whisper to the silent room, slamming the heavy laptop lid shut so hard the top corner of the screen cracks.

A spiderweb fracture creeps across the glass, severing the live feed of Kara and Lancelot tangled together in silk sheets five thousand miles away in Bora Bora. I don't care. The sight of Lancelot kissing her shoulder makes my stomach turn into a tight knot of hot bile.

I stare down at the solid black titanium ring heavy against my left ring finger. It weighs almost nothing, but it feels like a ten-pound iron chain binding me to a man I barely know.

The heavy door to my private medical cell swings open without a knock.

Theo steps inside, carrying a heavy silver tray. The scent hits me instantly—seared steak, thick vegetable soup, and warm, crusty bread that smells like pure butter and life. Real food, not the grey slop the prison guards slop into plastic bowls.

He sets the tray down on the small wooden bedside table with a soft clatter. His dark suit is pristine, his hair combed back, his dark eyes tracking my rapid, shallow breathing.

“Eat,” Theo says simply, pulling the wooden chair closer to the bed.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, wrapping my arms around my middle to hold my aching stomach together.

“You haven’t eaten in forty-eight hours,” he replies, his voice calm, deep, and unbothered by my venom.

“I haven’t wanted to live in forty-eight days!” I scream, my voice snapping into a raw, jagged shriek that bounces off the reinforced walls.

I leap off the bed, my bare feet hitting the floor, and slam my hands right into the silver tray. The tray flies off the table, crashing violently against the far wall. Hot soup splashes across the smooth floor, dripping down the wall, soaking straight into the leg of Theo’s thousand-dollar wool trousers.

I stand there, gasping for air, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.

“What do you want from me?” I scream, my voice breaking on a dry, agonized sob. “My soul? My body? My blood? I’m dying, Theo! The doctor said my organs are shutting down! There is nothing left for you to take!”

Theo doesn't flinch. He doesn't move a single inch as the hot soup drips onto his polished leather shoe.

He stands up slowly, his massive frame blocking out the overhead light. He doesn't raise his hands in anger. He doesn't growl like an offended Alpha.

Instead, he drops to his knees. Right there in the middle of the spilled soup, in the mess, in the grease.

My throat locks up. "What are you doing?"

He ignores the question, reaching out with one broad, warm hand to wrap his fingers firm and steady around the back of my neck. He pulls me down gently until I sink to my knees in front of him, the cold tile pressing into my skin.

I collapse against him. Not gracefully. Not like a brave pack female taking her stand. I fall like a woman who has lost her child on a flight of marble stairs, lost her mate to a snake, lost her pack, and lost her own name.

Raw, ugly, hysterical sobs rip through my lungs, tearing my throat open. I bury my face into his shoulder, my fingers clawing into the expensive fabric of his jacket as I weep until my ribs feel like they are cracking in half. I spill every drop of grief and terror I’ve held back since the cuffs clicked around my wrists at the wedding.

Theo doesn't push me away. He doesn't complain about the tears ruining his lapel. He pulls his hand up and uses his fine linen sleeve to gently wipe the wetness, blood, and dirt from my cheek.

“I’ve looked into the eyes of real monsters, Precious,” Theo whispers into my hair, his voice quiet, deadly, and steady as an anchor in a storm. “You’re not one. You’re just the girl they tried to break. And they failed.”

“They didn’t fail,” I hiccup, my chest violently heave-sobbing against his chest, my scent mixing with his dark, possessive oak-and-ember wolf aura. “Look at me. I’m in pieces.”

“Then I’ll collect every piece,” he says softly, his mouth brushing against my temple, sending a hot spark of raw electricity down my spine that makes my wolf whine in shock. “And I will build something they can never burn down again.”

My breath catches. The pure, dark promise in his voice shuts down the panic screaming in my head. I pull back just enough to look into his dark, unwavering eyes.

“Don't leave,” I whisper, my voice tiny and humiliated, my hand clutching his lapel tighter. “Don't leave me alone in the dark tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Theo says.

He lifts me easily off the floor, his broad arms sliding under my knees and lower back like I weigh nothing. He places me gently onto the soft mattress, pulling the clean white duvet over my shivering body.

He doesn't lie down beside me. He doesn't ask for a husband's rights. He simply pulls the wooden chair up against the edge of the mattress, sits down, and takes my left hand in his large, warm palm.

I close my eyes, my body twitching with exhaustion, my wolf finally settling under the heavy, crushing security of his presence. I drift into a fitful, shallow sleep, my fingers locked tight inside his. He doesn't let go for a single second.

At 3:00 AM, the room is pitch black save for the red glow of the heart monitor in the corner.

Theo sits motionless in the armchair beside the bed, his thumb idly tracing the black titanium ring on my finger.

With his free hand, he pulls a encrypted satellite phone from his inner jacket pocket. The screen lights up, casting sharp, angular shadows across his stone-carved jaw line.

He opens a private message thread and types a single word to his head enforcer:

Begin.

He pauses, watching the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of my chest as I sleep. A dark, terrifying coldness settles into his eyes. He taps out a second, longer command with lightning speed:

Start with Lancelot's pack holding company. I want their primary stocks down forty percent by dawn. Push the liquidation notices to the council.

He swiping to another window, his thumb pressing hard against the glass screen:

Find the EMT who signed off on the staircase incident report at the party. I want his full recorded confession regarding Kara's bribe by sunrise, or I want his tongue cut out of his throat. His choice.

Theo hits send. He slides the phone back into his pocket, his hand tightening softly around mine as I let out a low, subconscious whimper in my sleep.

He leans over the edge of the mattress, his mouth hovering inches from my ear, his deep alpha voice sliding into the quiet dark.

“Sleep, my wife,” Theo whispers, his breath warm against my neck, setting my skin on fire. “When you wake, their world will already be burning.”