Chapter 7: The Unwanted Call

The soup was surprisingly good. Creamy mushroom and chicken, hot enough to warm the chill that had settled in my bones.

I ate it in silence, sitting on the edge of the massive bed, while Killian disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water was the only noise in the room, a steady rhythm that should have been soothing.

But my mind was a mess.

Ding.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand made me jump. I nearly dropped the spoon.

I stared at the screen. It lit up with a name I used to love, but now only made my stomach churn.

Liam.

My hand trembled as I reached for it. I knew I shouldn't look. I knew I should block him. But old habits die hard.

[Liam 9:03 PM]: Stop this madness, Elena. Come back to the main house. We can fix this. [Liam 9:03 PM]: You can't actually be considering having his baby. It’s an abomination. He’s a monster. [Liam 9:04 PM]: My father is furious. If you don't come back and apologize, he says he'll exile you for real. No pack, no family. Just you and that freak. [Liam 9:05 PM]: I can get you a doctor. We can get rid of the "problem" quietly. Chloe doesn't have to know.

The spoon fell from my hand, clattering onto the tray.

Get rid of the problem.

He was talking about my baby. His own sibling.

Tears of rage pricked my eyes. I typed back furiously, my fingers shaking. Go to hell, Liam. You—

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened.

A cloud of steam billowed out, carrying the scent of sandalwood and rain. Killian stepped out, and the air in the room seemed to vanish.

He was wearing nothing but a low-slung black towel around his hips. Water droplets clung to his broad chest, tracing the lines of his muscles and sliding down over the intricate tribal tattoos that covered his left pec and arm.

But it wasn't just muscles. It was the scars.

Dozens of them. Claw marks. Bite marks. Silver burns. His body was a map of violence, a testament to the wars he had fought and survived.

He paused, wiping his wet hair with a smaller towel. His icy blue eyes instantly zeroed in on my face.

He didn't look at my body. He looked at my fear.

"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

I tried to hide the phone behind my back. "No one. Just... spam."

Killian was across the room in two strides. He didn't ask again. He simply reached out, his large hand waiting expectantly.

"Give it to me, Elena."

I hesitated, then placed the phone in his palm.

He scrolled through the messages. His face remained impassive, completely stone-cold, but the temperature in the room dropped so fast I shivered. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the device.

"Get rid of the problem quietly," Killian read aloud, his voice devoid of emotion. "Is that what he calls my heir? A problem?"

"He's just... he's scared," I whispered, though I didn't know why I was defending him.

"No," Killian corrected, looking up at me. His eyes were flashing with a terrifying golden light—his wolf was surfacing. "He is not scared. He is weak. And he is threatening what is mine."

Before I could blink, Killian closed his fist.

CRACK.

The sound of metal and glass shattering echoed in the silent room.

My jaw dropped. Killian had crushed my phone in his bare hand like it was a cracker. He tossed the twisted, broken remains into the trash bin as if it were nothing.

"My phone!" I gasped. "All my photos... my contacts..."

"You don't need them," Killian said calmly, grabbing a tissue to wipe the glass dust from his hand. "You don't need to talk to anyone who disrespects you. And you certainly don't need to listen to a boy who suggests murdering his own kin."

He walked over to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat beside me. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

"I will get you a new phone tomorrow," he said, his tone softening slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "One with a new number. A number that only I have."

"That sounds like a cage," I whispered, looking down at my hands.

"It's a shield," he corrected. He placed two fingers under my chin, lifting my face until I was forced to look at him. "Understand this, Elena. You are under my protection now. If Liam, or your father, or anyone else tries to touch you—even with words—I will burn their world down."

His thumb brushed my lower lip, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot straight to my core.

"Now," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Finish your soup. We have to sleep."

He stood up and walked to the other side of the bed, dropping the towel without a shred of shame before sliding under the black silk sheets.

I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding.

I looked at the broken phone in the trash. Then I looked at the powerful, terrifying man lying in the bed, waiting for me.

Liam wanted to "fix the problem." Killian wanted to burn the world for me.

For the first time since my birthday, I didn't feel like a victim.

I finished the last spoonful of soup, set the tray aside, and crawled into the bed.

I stayed on my edge, as far away from him as possible. But as I closed my eyes, I felt a large, warm hand slide across the sheets, resting protectively on the small of my back.

I should have pushed him away.

Instead, I leaned into his touch, and for the first time in days, I fell into a dreamless sleep.