Chapter Two — The Beta’s Shadow

The omega barracks were colder than memory.

Lillieth had thought maybe she’d exaggerated it in her mind because fear does that — turns ugly into monstrous. But no. Her first breath inside tasted like rot and metal. The damp in the air felt alive. Mold crawled black and fuzzy in the corners where the stone met the warped wooden floor.

They didn’t bother giving omegas real beds here. There were low cots crammed close together, thin mats stuffed with straw that had long ago flattened into something like woven burlap over bone. Some of them were stained dark — old blood, old sickness. The windows were just gaps in the stone with slats nailed across them, broken in places. Wind shoved its way in and stayed.

She stood in the doorway for a long time and just… held her blanket and said nothing.

The bond still burned inside her, raw and bright and wrong. It pulsed every few heartbeats like an injury that wouldn’t close. Every time it flared, she felt the absence of him. Felt him far. Felt him pushing her away on purpose.

It was a ripping sensation.

It should have destroyed her.

It almost did.

But there was something else under it now. Something new.

Shock.

Not her shock.

Theirs.

The pack’s.

His.

She could feel it faintly through the tether like an echo after thunder: disbelief, jagged and bitter, bleeding under Draven’s rage. The Alpha of MoonRiver, mate-bonded to an omega.

The pack would tear that apart long before they let it become truth.

And she was the chew toy.

A thin voice drifted from somewhere in the back. “That’s her.”

Lillieth’s spine tightened.

Slow movement rustled the shadows. Four omegas — all older than her — watched from their cots. One had gray hair and hollow cheeks, her wrists bruised yellow and brown. One had a tear in her bottom lip that hadn’t been allowed to close. One had scars like burns along her collarbone. The last wouldn’t meet Lillieth’s eyes at all. She stared at the wall, rocking just barely, muttering under her breath to no one.

Lillieth didn’t move closer.

She knew better than to assume warmth just because they were all low.

Omegas in MoonRiver weren’t sisters.

They were survivors.

Survivors didn’t share.

“Go on then,” the gray-haired one rasped. “Pick a corner. Stay outta the way. Don’t bleed on my side. Don’t scream unless something’s really broken. They don’t like screaming unless they’re the ones doing it.”

There was no cruelty in her tone. Just tired rules.

Lillieth swallowed and nodded.

Her throat hurt from earlier. Her palms were still raw. Her cheek had gone stiff where Marla’s little “gift” had dried.

She crossed the room, choosing the cot furthest from the door and most against the back wall. Instinct. Stupid, maybe. But if they dragged her out of here later, she wanted distance. One second more to brace.

She set her folded blanket down, then sat slowly on the edge of the cot.

The straw inside crackled.

Cold seeped instantly through the thin fabric of her dress and into her legs.

She did not shiver.

She didn’t want to give that to the room. To this place. To the invisible eyes that always, always watched in this pack.

Instead, she reached up and began to unbraid her hair.

The braid had held through the river, through the kitchen, through Draven.

She’d woven it tight before dawn — practice made her fast — but some strands had come loose in the chaos and were clinging damp to her neck and spine. Her scalp ached from where it had been yanked and twisted.

One by one, she loosened it.

A fall of black spilled down her shoulders, over her chest, pooling in her lap like liquid night.

Every omega in the room stared.

Lillieth didn’t miss it.

She was used to being looked at with hunger — envy hunger, cruelty hunger, male hunger. She wasn’t used to being looked at with that other thing. That flicker of wariness. Of superstitious distance.

“Void-wolf,” the gray-haired one whispered under her breath, barely audible.

Lillieth’s hands stilled.

Her heart skipped.

Her wolf — Nyx — lifted her head inside her, watchful, irritated, newly awake and very much not in the mood to be called names.

“Don’t call her that,” came a thin voice from farther back.

The one who’d been rocking had stopped. She was still staring at the wall. Still not looking at Lillieth. But she’d spoken.

Gray-hair snorted. “What else would you call a thing with eyes like that and a wolf blacker than shadow?”

“Alive,” the girl muttered. “I’d call her alive.”

Lillieth swallowed.

Her eyes stung.

She hadn’t cried in front of the pack in years. Not since she’d realized they loved it more than anything, loved watching how much she could bleed without breaking. She had learned to drop silent tears only when no one could see.

This time she blinked them back before they could fall.

Alive.

Alive.

That counted for something in MoonRiver.

At least, it used to.

She braided quietly again and kept her gaze on her hands. She focused on the rhythm: divide, twist, pull tight, repeat. She breathed through the ache in her chest. When she was done, she wrapped the new braid around her shoulder to keep it from dragging on the dirty floor.

Then she lay down on the cot.

The straw dug into her hip bone like pebbles under thin skin. Her cut palms burned when she slid them under the edge of her blanket for warmth. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

Her eyes fell shut.

For a moment — one fragile, borrowed moment — she let herself imagine something that did not exist.

Hands.

Not hitting.

Not grabbing.

Not restraining.

Hands cupping her face softly. A thumb brushing away the blood at her cheekbone. A low voice saying, You’re mine. You’re safe. Let them try. I’ll kill them all.

It wasn’t even a fantasy of tenderness. It was a fantasy of possession.

And even that was too much luxury for her to have.

Because she knew his voice.

She knew exactly how Alpha Draven had looked at her in that kitchen. Not with hunger. Not with awe.

With insult.

With fury that this had been done to him.

With hatred.

He will never claim you.

You will never, ever believe that you are mine.

Her wolf snarled at the memory, full of sharp, wild hurt. He lies. He lies. He lies.

Lillieth exhaled slowly.

No, she whispered back to Nyx inside her skull. He meant it.

Nyx bared phantom fangs. Then we make him regret it.

Lillieth felt a flicker of something at that.

Danger.

Hope.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t get to explore it.

Because the door to the barracks slammed open so hard it cracked against the inner wall.

Every omega in the room jerked.

Lillieth shot upright, heart lurching. Her hands flew instinctively to smooth her braid and pull her torn dress up over her knees — automatic, practiced movements to look smaller, unappealing, uninteresting. Fear spiked up her spine like cold fingers.

Marla stood in the doorway.

She wasn’t alone.

She was flanked by two enforcers — thick-shouldered males who answered directly to Beta Kade and enforced the Alpha’s rules with their fists. Lillieth recognized them both.

Tomas. Reed.

Her ribs ached in memory.

“Get up,” Marla sang, voice sugary and cruel. “Lillieth, sweetheart. Our Alpha requests you.”

Lillieth’s stomach dropped to her ankles.

Her mouth went dry.

Requests.

He doesn’t request, Nyx hissed. He commands.

Which means this isn’t from him.

Lillieth swallowed. “He… the Alpha wants me?”

“Oh, not for anything fun, I promise you.” Marla laughed, and Tomas joined in, low and eager. Reed cracked his knuckles.

Lillieth forced herself to stand.

Small steps. Slow. Obedient.

Her body wanted to tremble.

She did not let it.

She would not give Marla that.

Marla’s smile sharpened when Lillieth approached. “You’re bleeding,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “Messy. Do try not to leak on the floors when we walk you. You heard the Alpha this morning. He doesn’t like when you make a mess.”

Lillieth kept her eyes down. “Yes, Beta Marla.”

Marla’s face flickered, irritated for the smallest second — Lillieth hadn’t reacted enough to satisfy her. She flicked her fingers, sharp and dismissive. “Tomas, take her. Reed, with me. Kade’s waiting.”

Kade?

That word didn’t land right.

Tomas grabbed Lillieth’s arm. His grip was hard enough to bruise fast. His scent hit her nose and made her throat close — stale sweat, bitter ale, the sour high of cruelty. Reed crowded close behind her, so near she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and her stomach twisted.

Her wolf went very, very still.

Lillieth let them march her out.

The morning mist had thinned now. Sunlight was beginning to bleed through the trees in pale shafts, catching on leaves and old claw marks. The training grounds were mostly empty — the warriors had done their first sparring round and were cycling through runs in the forest.

Her heart was beating too fast.

Kade.

Why Kade?

Beta Kade didn’t waste his time with omegas unless there was an offense to punish. He was loyal to Draven like a shadow is loyal to a body. He didn’t smile much. He had that heavy sort of presence — wide shoulders, thick arms, coiled strength — but his violence wasn’t like Draven’s sharp-edged fury. Kade was blunt force. Break-bone, crush-rib, choke-till-you-go-still kind of force.

Lillieth had never been stupid enough to be alone near him.

They dragged her past the main house, down the stone steps that led to the cellar rooms beneath the training hall.

Her stomach curdled.

No.

No, not down there.

Not there.

Everyone in the pack knew what the rooms under the training hall were.

They had hooks.

They had drains in the floor.

They had no windows.

Nyx lunged hard in her chest, teeth bared, claws out. FIGHT.

Lillieth almost stumbled. Panic slammed into her, cold and blinding.

If they put her down there this early—

If they “taught her place” in the dark, so soon after Draven’s rejection—

She wouldn't last the day.

Tomas hauled her forward when she dug her heels in. “Don’t even think about it, omega.”

“Aw,” Reed said softly behind her. “She’s scared.”

Tomas snorted. “Good. Fear trains faster.”

Marla hummed, pleased with herself, as they reached the heavy cellar door. “You know, Lillieth, there’s been talk in the house already. People are saying the Moon Goddess made a joke. That the Alpha’s mate is just a chew toy. That you’re good for nothing except bleeding pretty.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a satisfied hiss. “And I think it’s so, so important for a pack to align with the Alpha’s wishes, don’t you?”

Lillieth kept her gaze on the floor and her breathing even. “Yes, Beta Marla.”

“See?” Marla purred. “She learns.”

Tomas shoved the door open.

The air that rolled out was damp and copper-scented.

Lillieth went cold all over.

Her feet wouldn’t move.

Every instinct her body had left rebelled. She felt wild for a second — frantic, cornered animal wild. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything but no.

No.

No.

No.

And then—

“Stop.”

The word cracked across the hall like a whip.

Everyone froze.

Tomas stiffened.

Reed’s hand, which had just lifted — she knew where it had been going: a handful of her braid to drag her down the steps — halted mid-air.

Marla turned, annoyance flashing. “Who—”

Her expression snapped tight when she saw who stood at the bottom of the stairs to the training hall.

Beta Kade.

He wasn’t smiling.

Kade rarely smiled, but this was something else. His face had gone flat — not blank, not bored. Flat like a man who’d buried something hot and dangerous under ice.

He crossed the distance between them in three heavy strides.

“Kade,” Marla said, sweetening instantly, tilting her chin. “Perfect timing. We were just about to—”

“Touch her,” Kade said, voice quiet.

Marla blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t look at Marla when he spoke. His eyes were on Tomas. “Go on,” he said again, still too calm. “Put your hands on her.”

Tomas swallowed.

Lillieth felt his grip loosen around her arm. Just slightly.

Reed gave a nervous half-laugh. “What’s the problem? Alpha said she’s not—”

“I know what Alpha said,” Kade snapped.

The air tightened.

His gaze flicked, finally, to Marla. “Why,” he asked evenly, “is she being brought below?”

Marla scoffed, recovering her composure like she hadn’t almost swallowed her own tongue. “Kade, honestly. You heard him this morning. She disrupted breakfast. She embarrassed him in front of the entire house. She’s already using the bond to get attention. The Alpha said to remind her of her place.”

“And you assumed,” Kade said softly, “that meant stringing her up.”

Marla rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. A few hours restrained teaches obedience, that’s all. We’ve done worse for less.”

That wasn’t untrue.

Lillieth had seen omegas come back up those stairs so pale and limp they had to be carried. She’d also seen omegas not come up at all.

Kade finally turned his face fully toward Marla.

Something moved under his calm.

Something dark.

“Not her,” he said.

Marla blinked. Actually blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Not her,” he repeated. “Lillieth doesn’t go below. You want to ‘teach’ her, you use chores. You use work. You send her to scrub blood out of the training mats until her hands split. You send her to wash the latrines with her bare fingers. You do not,” his voice hardened, “put her on a hook.”

The hallway went silent.

All the air felt suddenly thinner.

Reed stared. Tomas stared. Marla stared hardest of all.

And Lillieth — Lillieth couldn’t breathe for a second.

Because she hadn’t expected rescue.

From anyone.

Especially not from him.

Beta Kade turned his head and finally looked at her.

Really looked.

Up close, she could see the pale scar that cut through his eyebrow, the nick in his ear, the broken nose that had healed just a touch off-center. Kade was older than Draven by at least a handful of years, maybe more. Not old, but seasoned. Hardened. His eyes were a deep brown, not soft, not kind, but something lived behind them that she hadn’t seen in any other ranked wolf in MoonRiver.

Something like… memory.

He scanned her quickly. The cut on her cheek. The blood dried stiff on her palms. The way she was holding her own body small, protective, ready to be dragged.

His jaw flexed.

“Release her,” he said.

Tomas swallowed and dropped his hand from her arm like it had suddenly caught fire.

Reed stepped back fast.

Marla’s mouth opened. “Kade, with respect—”

“No,” Kade said without looking at her. “With respect is what you’ll use to address me if you choose to keep talking.”

Marla’s mouth snapped shut.

Lillieth felt like she was floating.

Her heart slammed, confused and frantic.

Her wolf had gone still again in her chest — but not scared-still this time. Watchful-still.

Suspicious.

Hopeful and angry at the same time.

Kade jerked his chin toward the main hall. “We’ll talk in private,” he told Marla, his tone going colder. “Not down here. Take your dogs and get out.”

Marla flushed at that — dogs — but she forced a brittle laugh. “Fine. She’s your problem when Draven asks where she is.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned. “Come,” she snapped to Tomas and Reed.

Tomas didn’t move until Kade’s gaze cut to him.

Then he moved.

Fast.

They retreated back up the stairs.

Marla shot Lillieth one last look — something between venom and promise — before following.

The cellar hall went quiet.

Quiet except for Lillieth’s breathing and the thud of her pulse in her ears.

Kade waited for the door at the top of the stairs to shut.

Only then did he speak again.

“Do you understand,” he said without looking at her, “what you just almost walked into?”

Lillieth swallowed. Her throat still hurt from Draven’s order. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he said.

Her stomach twisted. She hated the words. She said them anyway.

“They were going to put me on a hook.”

There. Out loud. Real.

Her voice didn’t shake, but she felt sick saying it.

Kade’s jaw tightened.

“Good,” he said. “Never lie to yourself about danger here. That’s how you die.”

Lillieth stared at him, wide-eyed now.

She couldn’t help it.

Nobody talked to her like that. Nobody told her truths like she deserved them. She didn’t even know what to do with it. Her hands twisted in her blanket, fingers flexing and curling, flexing and curling.

“Why?” she whispered.

Kade finally turned his head toward her again. “Why what.”

“Why did you stop them?”

For a second, his eyes flickered. Just a flicker — something she couldn’t read. Then his expression went flat again.

“Because,” he said, “you belong to the Alpha.”

Lillieth felt that like a blade.

Her cheeks burned, shame and heat and need all mixing into something that made her stomach tighten and her eyes prickle.

“He said I don’t,” she whispered.

Kade’s jaw flexed. “He said he won’t claim you. He didn’t say you aren’t his.”

Her heart slammed.

It hurt.

It also made something in her chest… ease. Just barely. Like a hand pressing over a wound to slow the bleeding.

She swallowed. “That’s not how it works.”

“It is exactly how it works,” Kade said quietly.

She blinked at him.

He exhaled slowly, like a man exhausted by a truth he hated.

“Listen carefully,” he said, voice dropping to something low and serious. “I’m not repeating this, and if you repeat this, it’ll get you killed.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Understand that first.”

Her breath hitched. “Yes.”

“Good.” He took a step closer. He wasn’t trying to loom, and still — he loomed. “Draven,” Kade said, “is the Alpha of MoonRiver, and MoonRiver is not gentle. You know that. You’re alive, so you know that. This pack was built on blood and fear. It only listens to strength. It only respects threat.”

Lillieth nodded once, tiny.

Kade continued. “That bond snapping into place this morning? That wasn’t a rumor. Every wolf in that kitchen felt it. The air changed. It hit like lightning. There’s no denying it. No pretending it didn’t happen. So right now, Lillieth, you are the most dangerous liability in this entire pack.”

Her mouth went dry.

Dangerous.

Liability.

Both.

He went on. “Marla is stupid. Cassia is selfish. They think hurting you is a game. Attention. Jealousy.” His lips curled, disgusted. “They’re playing house politics. They don’t understand what this actually is.”

Lillieth swallowed. “What is it?”

Kade watched her for a beat. His voice softened by a fraction. “War.”

Her breath stuttered.

He nodded at her reaction. “There are packs that would kill to cut MoonRiver’s Alpha through his mate. Not just hurt you. End you. Take you apart and send you back in pieces. Because that’s how you break an Alpha, if you can’t beat him head-on.”

Lillieth’s stomach lurched.

Images flashed in her head, unbidden. Hooks. Ropes. Teeth. Red. The sound of a scream caught and ripped out of a throat — hers.

She swallowed hard. “But he doesn’t—” her voice cracked, and she hated how small she sounded as she forced the words out, “—he doesn’t even want me.”

Kade’s eyes flicked.

Something painful moved in them, fast.

He didn’t answer that.

Instead he said, “Draven can’t be seen to be weak. He can’t be seen to soften. You understand me?”

Lillieth nodded shakily.

“He thinks claiming you is weakness,” Kade said flatly. “He thinks you being… what you are”—his gaze flicked down her body then back to her eyes, not lusting, assessing—“and what they’ve made you in this pack will make him look soft. Like he can be controlled. Like he can be used. He thinks you’re a leash the Goddess just tied around his throat.”

Lillieth flinched.

Kade didn’t soften it.

“He’s wrong,” he said. “But he believes it. And when Draven believes something, he bleeds for it.”

Lillieth swallowed. “He’ll never accept me.”

“He’ll never accept you in front of them,” Kade corrected.

Her heart kicked.

Her wolf went very, very still.

That was… different.

That was something else.

“What does that mean?” she whispered. Her voice felt shaky, too loud in the low, damp hall.

Kade studied her face for a moment. Slow. Careful. “It means,” he said finally, “that until he figures himself out, I don’t let anyone touch you.”

Lillieth just stared.

The words didn’t land at first. They didn’t fit anywhere she had space for. They sounded like some other girl’s life. Some other pack. Some other world.

“I—” Her throat closed, then opened again, stuttering on disbelief. “What?”

Kade raised a brow. “You deaf?”

“I—no, I just—” She shook her head, braid sliding over her shoulder. “That’s not… that’s not how it works here.”

“I’m changing how it works,” Kade said simply.

She blinked.

Actually blinked.

Like Marla had.

“Why?” she whispered.

For a second — one heartbeat, no more — Kade’s face cracked.

Not much. Not messy.

But enough.

Enough that she saw it: the old hurt sitting behind his eyes like a bruise that never fully left.

“Hannah,” he said quietly.

The name slid through the air like a ghost.

Lillieth’s breath caught.

She’d heard that name before.

She’d heard it whispered at the edges of training grounds, in those rare quiet hours when the pack thought omegas were too busy or too beneath to listen. Beta Kade’s mate. Dead a little over a year ago. No one said how. No one said why. Only that Kade hadn’t smiled since.

Lillieth had never asked. Omegas didn’t ask questions about ranked grief. Grief that high up got people hurt for touching it.

He said the name like it still carved him open.

“Hannah,” Kade repeated, steadying, like he was giving weight to the memory. “Would have ripped my throat out if I let that girl walk into a hook room. So I won’t.”

Lillieth’s lips parted.

Her eyes stung hard.

Oh.

Oh.

For a second, she couldn’t breathe around that.

No one had ever— No one had ever said I won’t let them hurt you for her. Not because she was useful. Not because she was property. Not because she was leverage. Just because it was wrong.

Something in her cracked.

Not the same crack as before. Not the tired one.

This one let in light.

Her wolf lowered her hackles inside her chest, just a little. Nyx watched Kade now with wary interest instead of bared fangs. Beta. Not enemy. Maybe pack.

Lillieth swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “Thank you.”

Kade gave a short exhale that wasn’t quite a scoff. “Don’t thank me yet. This just made you ten times more visible.”

Fear slid back in like cold water.

Visible.

The worst word in MoonRiver.

He jerked his chin. “Come on.”

Her stomach clenched. “Where—?”

“I’m not sending you back in that sty,” he said. “Half the enforcers walk in and out of there to entertain themselves. You sleep there, you won’t last a night. Marla knows that. That’s why she dragged you in there so fast. She was hoping someone else would do her dirty work and she wouldn’t get blood on her hands. You’re coming with me.”

Lillieth’s mind blanked.

With… him?

“I—” She swallowed. “Beta, I’m not allowed in ranked quarters.”

“You are now,” he said.

Her heart hammered. “Draven said—”

“Draven said you aren’t to speak to him or touch him,” Kade cut in. “Draven didn’t say a damned thing about me.”

Lillieth’s lips parted.

Her wolf made a pleased, vicious little hum. Loop-hole.

Kade’s mouth twitched. Just a fraction. The ghost of what might have once been a smile. “Exactly.”

Lillieth stared up at him, dizzy.

This couldn’t be real.

This had to be a trick.

This had to be some new test of pain.

But Kade had already turned, heading back up the stairs without waiting to see if she’d follow. “Move, omega,” he said over his shoulder, not unkind. “If I have to come back and carry you, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and every warrior in the hall will see your ass. Your choice.”

Her face went hot.

She moved.

Fast.

Her bare feet slapped against the stone as she hurried to keep up with his stride. Part of her still expected Tomas or Reed to yank her back, to laugh, to tell her this was cute but no. But nobody stopped her. No one dared get in Kade’s way.

The main training hall wasn’t crowded now, just a few warriors wiping sweat from their necks, rewrapping hands, stretching out muscles. They looked up when Kade came through.

And they stared when they saw her behind him.

“Is that—?”

“No way.”

“She’s really—?”

“What the hell—?”

Kade didn’t slow. “Eyes somewhere else unless you’re asking me to put you down,” he said without even looking at them.

Heads snapped away.

Lillieth kept her gaze locked on Kade’s shoulder blades as she walked, using him like a shield.

This is really happening.

This is real.

This is—

He led her through a side door off the main hall and down a short corridor that smelled like cedar and leather oil. This hall she had never seen. Omegas didn’t come this way. She felt wrong in it. Like blood on white silk.

At the end of the hall, Kade pushed open a door with his knuckles.

The room beyond was… warm.

Not fancy like in stories. MoonRiver wasn’t that pack.

But warm.

There was a small sitting space with a worn sofa draped in fur and an old wooden table scarred with knife marks. A weapons rack hung on one wall — axes, knives, a long-handled spear, a shotgun. The opposite wall held shelves with a few books. Actual books, not manuals. A jacket lay thrown over the back of a chair. Boots were tucked at the base of the bedframe in the adjoining room.

And the air smelled like cedar, leather, and faint, lingering female.

Lillieth’s chest tightened.

Hannah.

This had been Hannah’s space.

Kade didn’t miss the way her eyes went there. He didn’t comment, either.

Instead he jerked his chin toward a narrow door off the main space. “You stay in there. That used to be storage. It locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone but me. You hear Draven’s voice at that door, you double lock it and you don’t move.”

Her head snapped up, shocked. “But—he’s Al—”

“I don’t care if he’s the moon itself dropped down in a man’s skin,” Kade said, voice low and hard. “If he’s angry, if he’s spiraling, if he comes in here running hot and decides he needs to make an example to calm himself down, he might forget you’re not a training dummy. You lock the door until I pull him off, or he’ll hate himself after. You understand?”

Lillieth just stared at him.

Because…

Because Kade wasn’t saying Draven might kill her by accident. Kade wasn’t saying, Be careful or you’ll die.

He was saying, Don’t let him hurt you because he’ll regret it later.

Like Draven… would care.

Something fluttered in Lillieth’s chest. It hurt. It warmed. It confused.

She nodded, stunned. “Yes.”

“Good.” Kade exhaled. “There’s a wash basin in there. Clean your hands. You’ll get infected if you leave them like that and I am not dealing with you getting fever today. Hannah had ointment. I’ll find it. Sit. I’ll be right back.”

He turned away.

Lillieth’s knees almost gave.

She caught herself on the doorframe of the little storage room and slipped inside before her legs quit.

It was small. Barely wide enough for a narrow cot and a crate. But it was… clean. It didn’t stink. There was a thin rug on the floor, and a folded blanket at the end of the cot that didn’t look like it had been dragged through a swamp.

That alone nearly made her cry.

She shut the door softly behind her and leaned back against it, pressing both hands over her mouth.

Her whole body shook.

Not with fear this time.

With something else she couldn’t name.

She slid down the wood until she was sitting on the floor, knees hugged to her chest, forehead resting on them. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shaky bursts. Tears finally spilled hot and silent, dampening the fabric of her dress.

She had not been saved.

This was not rescue.

She knew that. She was not stupid. Kade wasn’t doing this because she was precious. He wasn’t doing this because he loved her. This wasn’t a fairytale.

This was strategy.

But gods — gods — strategy had never felt like mercy before.

She cried quietly until her throat ached and her nose burned and the knot in her chest loosened enough that she could breathe without shaking.

Nyx paced inside her, unsettled. Beta protects. Beta smells like grief. Beta is not mate. Mate is angry. Mate is in pain. Mate is stupid.

Lillieth let out a wet, watery little laugh into her knees.

“Yeah,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “He is.”

She let her head tip back against the door and stared at the low ceiling.

Her hands still stung.

Her cheek still throbbed.

Her heart still felt split open by Draven’s rejection.

But for the first time since that moment in the kitchen, the knife-edge of panic inside her dulled. Just a little.

Because she wasn’t alone in the barracks.

Because someone had said no.

Because someone had said not her.

And no part of her had ever, ever expected that.

The door clicked softly, and she jerked upright, wiping at her face with the back of her wrist fast. The storage room door didn’t open — just the outer door to Kade’s quarters. She heard him move outside, heavy steps, the quiet rattle of a drawer.

“Hands,” Kade called.

Her throat squeezed. “Yes.” She stood, opened the storage door, and stepped back into the main room.

Kade was standing by the old wooden table, sleeves shoved up, a small tin open in front of him. A clean cloth lay beside it. He’d also set down a glass of water.

Her eyes darted to it.

Water.

For her.

She didn’t move toward it, not yet.

“Sit,” Kade said, nodding at the table’s edge.

She obeyed.

He took her hands.

She flinched.

Couldn’t help it. Her whole body jerked back like she’d been burned.

Kade stilled. His grip was firm, but not crushing. He let her feel the steadiness of it before he did anything else. “That from me?” he asked evenly. “Or from them?”

“From them,” she whispered.

“Right.” He nodded once. “Get used to me touching you like this, then. If you flinch in front of the wrong wolf, they’ll think I don’t mean it. And if they think I don’t mean it, they’ll test it.”

Her pulse fluttered.

Mean it.

As in protect.

As in claim.

As in she was under him.

Her face heated.

He dipped the cloth in water, then very gently — shockingly gently for someone built like him — began wiping the dried blood from her palms. The cut ceramic had left little jagged edges of torn skin, red and raw. She hadn’t even realized how deep some of them were. She hissed softly when the water hit.

“Yeah,” Kade grunted. “That’ll scar nice.”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

That made him pause.

His eyes flicked up to hers. “For what.”

“For…” She swallowed. “For being… a problem.”

His jaw clenched. Hard.

“Listen close,” he said quietly. “You don’t apologize to me for existing.”

Her chest tightened.

Her eyes burned again. “I—”

“Not for breathing,” he continued. “Not for bleeding. Not for taking up space in my damn chair because you’re trying not to get nailed to a ceiling downstairs. You’ll apologize if you disobey. You’ll apologize if you compromise security. You’ll apologize if you get smart with me when I’m keeping you alive. But you will not apologize for being here. Understood?”

The room spun a little.

She’d never heard words like that. Not to her. Not for her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good.” He resumed cleaning, slower now, more careful. After the water, he scooped two fingers into the tin and spread something that smelled like pine sap and oil of clove over the cuts.

It stung. Then went numb.

She watched his hands move.

Kade’s hands weren’t pretty. The knuckles were scarred. The nails were short and rough. There were old calluses across his palms, the kind that never fully went away. But his touch was steady. Efficient. The way you handle something valuable so you don’t break it.

“You’re shaking,” he said without looking up.

“I’m cold,” she lied.

“Mm.” He didn’t push, but his eyes flicked to her face again and lingered just a breath longer this time. “You’ll warm up. You pass out, I’ll dump water on you.”

Despite herself, her mouth twitched.

He huffed. Almost a laugh. Almost.

When both hands were cleaned and treated, he let them rest in her lap, palms up, so the salve wouldn’t smear. Then — and this shocked her more than anything else in the last hour, even more than him dragging her away from the cellar — he picked up the glass of water and held it out.

“For you,” he said.

She stared.

Her stomach clenched.

“This isn’t a trick,” he added, dry. “Drink it.”

She reached, cradling it carefully with her bandaged palms. The glass felt heavy, cool.

Her throat was raw.

She hadn’t had water that wasn’t from a bucket in… she didn’t even know how long. Omegas drank after everyone else. After meals, after training, after the ranked wolves. Sometimes there wasn’t much left.

She lifted it to her lips and drank.

It tasted like nothing.

It tasted like clean.

She swallowed too fast and coughed, hand flying to her chest.

“Slow,” Kade muttered.

She nodded, eyes watering. Her braid slid forward over her shoulder into her lap and for a moment, Kade’s gaze flicked to it.

He went still.

His jaw flexed again.

“What,” she whispered, nervous.

“Hannah,” he said after a beat, voice rougher than before, “had hair to her waist. Always wore it down, even when I told her some idiot would grab it in a fight one day.”

Lillieth blinked.

Her lips parted.

He stared at the braid for another quiet second. Then he tore his gaze away like it hurt to look at, and his voice smoothed back out. “If anyone tries to cut that off you before I say, you scream loud enough to wake the Goddess.”

Lillieth swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Now. Here’s what’s going to happen next.”

Her stomach tightened at those words. Next.

Next was always where pain lived.

“You’re staying here,” Kade said. “You don’t leave this room unless I tell you to, or unless the room is on fire. You don’t answer the door unless you hear my voice. If you have to piss, you knock on this wall—” he tapped the shared wall between her little storage room and the main room “—twice. I’ll clear the hall and walk you to the bathroom myself. You do not wander.”

Her face heated, embarrassed at the bluntness. “Yes.”

“You do not talk to Marla,” he continued. “You do not talk to Cassia. If they talk to you, you say ‘I’m sorry, Beta’ and ‘Yes, Beta’ and you get to me as fast as you can. You do not repeat anything I say to you unless I tell you to say it. You do not repeat anything Draven says in my presence unless I tell you to say it.”

Her chest went tight. “He won’t—he doesn’t talk to me.”

Kade huffed. “Not yet.”

Her heart stumbled.

Her wolf’s ears perked.

Kade went on. “You don’t run,” he said, eyes flicking up to hers again, sharper now. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Lillieth’s stomach dropped.

Her eyes widened.

“How—”

“Because you’re not stupid,” Kade said. “And because if I were you, I’d have picked a tree line and a direction already.”

She said nothing.

His mouth twitched in something that wasn’t quite approval and wasn’t quite sadness. “You run, you die,” he said simply. “Rogues’ll tear you up before you make it past the river. Or worse, some other Alpha catches your scent and realizes Draven’s mate is unguarded and decides to make a point. You won’t die clean. You’ll die slow, and you’ll die hearing yourself beg. Understood?”

Cold rolled through her.

Slow. Beg.

She nodded quickly, throat tight. “Yes.”

“Good.” He stepped back and crossed his arms. “Last rule. Maybe the most important one.”

She looked up.

His gaze held hers for a long beat. “You never,” he said softly, “call yourself nothing again. Not in front of me. Not when you’re talking to yourself. Not even in your own head if you can help it. You hear me?”

Her breath caught.

Her chest ached.

She nodded, small.

“Yes.”

He gave a single, satisfied nod in return. “Good.”

Silence settled for a few seconds.

It wasn’t heavy.

It wasn’t comfortable, not yet.

But it wasn’t cruel.

Lillieth stared down at her bandaged hands, then back up at him. Her voice came out quiet, almost unsure of itself. “Kade?”

“Mm.”

“Will Draven… be angry that you did this?”

Kade snorted softly. “Draven’s angry when the sun rises wrong.”

She almost smiled.

Almost.

Kade’s eyes warmed — just a fraction — at the near-curve of her mouth. “He’ll snarl, sure,” he said. “He’ll posture. He’ll throw something at a wall. He’ll say I’m overstepping.” Kade’s mouth curved bitter at the corner. “He’ll threaten to rip my throat out for thinking I know better than him how to run his pack.”

Lillieth swallowed. “Will he?”

Kade’s gaze slid toward the door, then back to her. “No.”

Her heart stuttered.

“Because here’s the other truth,” he said, voice dropping. “Draven might be fighting the bond like a feral dog in a trap, but if any wolf in this pack touched you down there and I let it happen, he’d tear MoonRiver apart from the inside until there was nothing left but bones.”

Her breath left her in a soft, shocked rush.

Her wolf made a low, pleased hum. Mate.

Heat crawled up her neck.

“He doesn’t get to claim you and then act like you’re disposable. Not on my watch,” Kade said simply.

Lillieth’s throat tightened hard. “He said he didn’t claim—”

“I don’t care what he said,” Kade snapped, more sharply than before. “The bond’s done. That’s the only part of this that matters.” He exhaled slowly, jaw grinding once. “He’ll come around or he won’t. That’s his problem. My problem is keeping you alive long enough to find out which way he breaks.”

Alive.

Kept alive.

For the second time that morning, the words almost knocked her over.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Kade watched her for a long heartbeat, like he was memorizing something about her face. Then he grunted and looked away. “Good girl.”

The words shouldn’t have done what they did inside her.

They shouldn’t have warmed.

They shouldn’t have eased.

But gods — after nothing but insults, after being called nothing, curse, rat, garbage — being called good felt like a blanket thrown over shaking shoulders.

Her eyes burned again, traitorously.

She looked down fast.

“Alright,” Kade muttered, scrubbing a palm over his jaw. He nodded toward her little room. “Get some rest. You’re gray.”

“I have chores,” she said automatically, quiet and small.

Kade gave her a look. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

Her mouth parted.

“But—”

“Who outranks the kitchen?” he asked mildly.

“Y-you do.”

“Exactly,” he said. “If Marla or anyone else has a problem with that, they can come discuss it with me. And when I say ‘discuss,’ I mean they can try not to swallow their own teeth after I’m done explaining it. Go lie down.”

Lillieth just stared.

“You disobeying me already?” he asked, brow lifting.

Her heart kicked. “No,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, turning away. “Close the door.”

She slipped back into the narrow storage room on unsteady legs. Her body felt like it hadn’t realized yet that it could stop bracing for impact. She turned and, for just a second, watched Kade through the crack before she shut the door.

The Beta had his back to her, hands braced on the table, head hanging down for a moment like he’d just let the weight of something he’d been holding drop between his shoulder blades.

She heard him whisper, so soft she wasn’t sure if she imagined it:

“Hannah, if you’re still up there watching, don’t scream. I know what I’m doing.”

Her breath caught.

Her chest ached.

She closed the door quietly, slid the lock into place with a soft click, and leaned her shoulders against it.

Her mind spun.

The bond still hurt — oh, gods, it hurt — but the edge had dulled. It wasn’t a ripping now. It was an ache. Heavy. Low. Sharpened any time she thought too hard about Draven’s face, his scent, the gravel in his voice when he’d said never, ever believe you are mine.

But the panic that had been chewing the inside of her own ribs raw had… settled.

Not gone.

Settled.

Because she wasn’t being dragged underground.

Because she wasn’t alone in the cold barracks waiting to be taken apart for sport.

Because someone had drawn a line in front of her and said, Not this one.

She lowered herself onto the narrow cot, careful of her treated palms, and lay on her side facing the door.

Her eyes traced the grain of the wood. The way the light from underneath slipped in through that tiny seam. The way her heartbeat had finally, finally started to slow.

Her braid curled warm against her chest like a living thing. Nyx curled with it, low and coiled, still bristling but not snarling anymore.

Beta protects, Nyx murmured, the words a low rumble in Lillieth’s head. Her wolf’s voice was rough, layered, ancient-feeling. It had always sounded bigger than her body. Mate hurts us.

Lillieth swallowed.

Her throat was tight.

Mate hurts us, Nyx said again, annoyed. Mate will pay for that.

Lillieth let out a tiny, helpless laugh into the blanket.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “He will.”

Her eyes drifted shut.

For the first time since the bond snapped into place — since her world split clean in two at the Alpha’s feet — Lillieth slept.

Not deeply.

Not peacefully.

But without fear that someone would drag her out of that bed and hang her on a hook.

⭑

She didn’t sleep long.

Her body wasn’t used to feeling safe, and it started warning her awake the second footsteps approached.

Heavy ones.

Weighted ones.

Her eyes flew open.

Her wolf went instantly alert in her chest, ears forward, teeth bared.

Not Kade.

No.

This was a different walk.

This was a different pressure in the air.

The bond in her chest went white-hot.

Her breath caught.

Her entire body responded before her mind did — heart leaping, stomach clenching, every nerve lighting up sick and sweet.

He’s here.

Draven.

Her pulse spiked hard enough to make her dizzy.

The footsteps stopped just beyond the door. A shadow moved under the seam, blocking the light. The air itself felt tighter, like it was trying to shove its way through the crack and get to her.

Her hands trembled where they gripped the blanket.

Nyx bared her teeth, a low warning rumble rolling through Lillieth’s bones. Mate. A pause. Then, more vicious: Hurt us and die.

Lillieth swallowed as quietly as she could and forced herself to breathe.

She thought of Kade’s words.

You double lock it and you don’t move.

She looked at the lock.

She looked at the seam of light.

She felt the heat of Draven on the other side of thin wood like a furnace.

Then his voice slid through the door. Low. Rough. Dangerous.

“Open the door, omega.”

Her heart slammed.

Her throat closed.

She didn’t move.

The silence that followed wasn’t silence.

It was charged.

Electric.

Lillieth could feel the struggle happening on the other side of the door. Not in sound. Through the bond. It hit her like heat lightning — flashes of anger, confusion, hunger, shame, rage at himself, rage at her, rage at fate, all of it hitting at once and rolling like a storm under his skin.

He was furious.

Not at her.

At the fact that he was here.

At the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from coming.

Her breath shook.

“Lillieth,” he said next, softer.

Her name.

Her name in his mouth.

The way he said it was almost nothing — just her name, just sound, just air shaped through his teeth — and it felt like a hand closing around her spine.

Her wolf shuddered.

Lillieth shut her eyes tight. “No.”

There was a pause.

Then she heard it.

A soft, disbelieving laugh.

“You’re telling your Alpha no?”

Her cheeks burned. “Kade said—”

“Kade,” Draven hissed, that name coming out like a snapped bone, “doesn’t tell me who I can and can’t see in my own house.”

Lillieth’s heart hammered. “He said not to open unless he’s here.”

“You listen to him now?”

“Yes,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

The sound Draven made was low and dark, like a promise.

Jealousy.

It hit through the bond like a blade sunk into hot flesh.

Her breath hitched.

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

He was jealous.

Of Kade.

Her pulse wouldn’t steady. Her fingers dug hard into the blanket. “Alpha, please go.”

Silence.

A beat.

Two.

Three.

She thought, for a second, she’d said the exact wrong thing.

She thought he’d tear the door off its hinges and drag her out and remind her in front of everyone exactly what he’d promised that morning: I will never claim you. You are nothing. You breathe because I let you.

But the explosion didn’t come.

Instead, after a long, strained moment, his low voice came again. “Does it hurt?”

Her throat closed.

She didn’t answer.

He exhaled, harsh, shaky. “I can feel it hurting,” he snapped quietly, anger like gravel under each word. “Don’t insult me. I’m not blind to a bond I didn’t ask for.”

Her eyes stung. “Yes,” she whispered, the word ripping out of her before she could stop it. “It hurts.”

Silence dropped hard.

Her own breath came fast and shaky. She wanted to press her palms flat to her chest and hold herself together, but the salve stung and she didn’t dare move that much with him right there.

There was the faintest scrape of knuckles against the wood.

He hadn’t punched it.

He hadn’t ripped it.

He’d leaned into it.

Like he needed the contact, too. Like he hated that he needed it.

“I’m not… used to this,” he muttered, voice rough, quiet like a confession. “I don’t know… how to make it not—” He cut himself off with a frustrated, low curse.

Lillieth swallowed hard. “You could… have stayed away.”

That earned her a low, humorless laugh. “Do you think I didn’t try?”

She went still.

Her heart fluttered.

Her wolf hummed.

Nyx sounded smug. He can’t.

Draven let out a harsh breath. “I told myself I’d leave you in the dirt where you belong.”

The words stung. Hard. She flinched even though he couldn’t see it.

“I told myself,” he went on, voice getting softer, darker, more dangerous, “that I wasn’t going to let the Goddess make a fool of me in my own pack. I told myself I’d set the rules, walk away, and that would be the end of it.”

Lillieth said nothing.

Her throat hurt.

Her chest hurt in a new way now, not sharp — molten. Liquid.

“I walked out,” Draven said, low. “I walked onto the training grounds. I put Kade in the dirt twice. I bled a little just to shut my head up. I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself you were nothing.” His voice dropped even lower. “And then I felt them put hands on you.”

Lillieth’s breath caught.

The room swayed.

“I felt you panic,” he snarled, voice suddenly edged again. “I felt your fear like it was my own in my own goddamn body. I felt you break for a second. I almost went red in the middle of the grounds. In front of everyone.”

Red.

His wolf.

Her heart pounded so hard she tasted iron.

“I don’t lose control in front of my pack,” Draven said, quiet and vicious. “Ever. Do you understand me? Ever. And you—” He cut off, breathing sharp, angry. “Do you have any idea how furious that makes me?”

Lillieth swallowed. “I didn’t ask you to feel anything.”

“I KNOW,” he snarled.

The bond flared hot, a flash of heat that made her gasp.

Her body reacted before her mind. Her thighs pressed together tight. Shame flooded her face so hard she thought she’d light up like a beacon.

He went silent.

He’d felt that, too.

Through the bond.

The air turned molten.

Her breath came unsteady. Quiet. She squeezed her eyes tighter and whispered, helpless, “Alpha, please. Please just—please go. Please.”

Another long stretch of silence.

When he spoke again, his voice was controlled ice. That terrifying Alpha-cold that made even ranked wolves step back.

“I’m not claiming you,” he said.

The words hit like a slammed door.

Her throat burned. “I know.”

“I’m not marking you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not walking into the dining hall and sitting you at my side and calling you Luna in front of everyone.”

Her chest squeezed tight. “I know.”

“You will do what Kade says,” he went on, voice hard. “You will stay in his quarters. You will not leave without him. You will not speak to any unmated male. You will not let any female bait you. You will not let anyone touch you without Kade present. You will eat what he gives you and sleep where he tells you and you will breathe when I say you can breathe. You will not die. Do you hear me?”

Lillieth made a tiny, choked sound.

Her vision blurred.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

He exhaled.

Slow.

Ragged.

Like that cost him something.

Like that admission had dragged itself through him like barbed wire.

“You belong to MoonRiver,” he ground out, low. “You belong to this pack. You. Do. Not. Break.”

Her eyes flooded.

Because she heard it.

Under the order.

Under the cold.

Under the rage.

The words he hadn’t said but she felt anyway, through the heat of the bond like a brand against skin:

You belong to me.

Her voice shook. “Yes, Alpha.”

Another silence.

This one hurt.

Because she could feel him, just on the other side of that door. Close enough to touch if there hadn’t been wood between them. Close enough that his scent — storm and smoke and anger — leaked in through the crack. Close enough that the bond had stopped screaming and settled into a low, aching hum in her chest.

It felt… better.

It felt… wrong.

It felt like surrender, and she hated that it felt good.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime trapped in a single held breath, he spoke again. Soft. Dangerous. “And Lillieth.”

Her name again.

Her heart thrummed.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice dropping to that lethal quiet she had only ever heard right before someone bled, “ever let Tomas touch you again. If he does, I’ll peel him.”

Her breath hitched.

Her wolf purred.

“I—” Her throat worked. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he said.

Then he was gone.

Just—gone.

The shadow under the door vanished. The oppressive pressure in the air snapped back, leaving her lungs feeling too open and too empty all at once. The bond in her chest screamed once — sharp, tearing — like flesh ripped from flesh, and then settled again into a throb.

Lillieth sat frozen on the edge of the cot, shaking.

Her face was hot. Her palms stung. Her chest hurt. Her stomach felt tight and low and strange. Her heart wouldn’t steady.

Her mind spun.

He hadn’t claimed her.

He’d said it again, like he needed the words to stand between them like a wall.

But he’d also—

He’d also ordered that she be guarded.

He’d threatened to skin a warrior for touching her.

He’d admitted he’d felt her panic.

He’d come to her door.

He’d said her name like it mattered.

He’d told her Do not break like a command he expected her to obey.

He’d told her You belong.

Her throat tightened so hard it hurt to breathe.

Lillieth curled slowly onto her side and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around her middle to try to hold in the storm.

Her wolf curled with her, a shadow the size of a nightmare, red-eyed and snarling. Not at her. For her. Over her. Tail wrapped tight like a shield.

Nyx’s voice rolled through her, pleased and violent. Mate is stupid. Mate is ours. Beta is pack. We live.

Lillieth pressed her forehead to the blanket and let out a shaking breath that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.

For the first time in her life, torture hadn’t broken her in the first day.

For the first time in her life, someone had stepped between her and the teeth.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t nobody.

And MoonRiver — cruel, watching MoonRiver — had absolutely no idea what kind of storm it had just birthed.