Chapter 64

SARA

I sat in the silence of my thoughts, the echoes of Alpha Rune’s voice still vibrating in the air around me. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a man—an Alpha, no less—had intentionally and softly courted my attention rather than demanding it. I was so taken by the sheer vulnerability in his eyes that it got me thinking, spinning a web of questions I couldn't yet untangle. Did he truly not realize the weight of the blood on his hands? Did he not know that his conquest was the reason my father was dead? Or was his love so blinding that he had managed to separate the "Conqueror" from the man who stood before me?

This was only the second time we had truly met, and yet he treated me as if I were the only soul left in a dying world. Hearing him speak of the agony he felt when he thought I had perished in the fire... it did something to me. It cracked the armor I had built around my heart.

"I’ve spent every waking second of the last six months looking for a ghost," he had whispered, his voice a jagged ruin. "I lived in a grave, Sara. I sat in the dark and waited for the world to end because I thought you were ash." My breath had hitched painfully in my chest at that statement. He wasn't just talking about loss; he was talking about a soul-deep erasure. "I love you. I didn’t know I was capable of it—of this kind of ache—until I thought you were gone. I’m not here to take a prisoner. I’m here for you."

I had swallowed hard, the words of a reply forming on the tip of my parched tongue, but I never got to speak them. All hell broke loose the moment Tristan’s shadow darkened the cell. The fight that followed was nothing short of primal. Rune was a raging storm, a beast of pure, focused carnage. I had honestly feared he would kill Tristan right there on the cold stone floor, but he stopped the moment the thundering footsteps of the guards signaled his window of escape was closing.

"You haven't won. You’ve just delayed the inevitable," Rune had promised, his golden eyes burning with a promise of future fire. "I’m coming back for my Queen... I'll be back for you." He had kissed my hand—a gesture so gentle it felt like a brand—and then he was gone into the night.

I stayed huddled in my corner, watching Tristan as he leaned against the wall, gasping for air while trying to explain the breach to Harlan. Tristan was obviously badly injured; his pride was hemorrhaging even faster than his wounds. It was a staggering thing of shame—to have a rival enter your home, your inner sanctum, and absolutely dominate you in front of your people.

One thing I couldn't quite figure out as I was eventually led back toward the penthouse was the why of it all. Why was Tristan fighting so desperately to keep me? Despite the hatred, despite the cruelty, and despite the fact that I was a constant thorn in his side, he refused to let go.

"Let's go to the medical wing first, before I take you all the way up to the penthouse," Harlan suggested quietly as we walked through the hushed corridors. "After tonight's display, I'm not sure Tristan would ever let you out of his sight again. He’s shaken, Sara."

I offered a small, weary smile, knowing Harlan was right. "But I'm surprised about one thing, Harlan. Why? Why all of this?"

Harlan paused, looking at me with a questioning tilt of his head.

"I'm just a slave, right? A prisoner of war," I continued. "Why go through all of this stress? The risk of a war with the Conqueror, the dissent in his own pack... he could sell me off tomorrow and spare himself the headache. He could end the threat by simply removing the prize."

Harlan was silent for a long time, his footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway. "I recently went to the Crescent Moon territory," he whispered, his voice so low I could barely hear it.

"What? Were you the one who informed Rune where I am?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat. I was shocked he’d admit to such a betrayal after previously insisting on his loyalty.

"Well, not exactly. I didn't hand him a map," Harlan clarified. "But I may have let a few things slip during a diplomatic parley. I specifically went to see Carmen—the Conqueror's right hand who was here recently. She made a significant impression on me when she visited." He fell silent again, a pensive look on his face. "I told you that because, in most cases, we fall in love with the people we least expect. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s dangerous."

I walked beside him in a daze, trying to decipher the subtext. "Are you saying... are you actually suggesting that Tristan is in love with me?"

"I didn't say anything of the sort," Harlan replied with a suggestive, knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes. He then ushered me into Dr. Leon’s office for a quick examination.

"Where have you been?" Alpha Tristan’s voice boomed the moment we stepped back into the penthouse. He was a portrait of a man on the edge, pacing the floor like a caged predator ready to lash out at anything that moved.

"I took her to see Dr. Leon," Harlan replied calmly, seemingly unfazed by the Alpha’s volatility. "I wanted to be absolutely sure she didn't sustain any internal injuries during the struggle in the cell."

I stood there and watched him, my silence a weapon. The air in the penthouse was thick with the copper tang of blood and the bitter, cloying scent of Tristan’s wounded pride. A thick white bandage was wrapped haphazardly around his shoulder where Rune’s claws had carved deep furrows into his muscle. He looked less like a king and more like a man who had stared death in the face and realized he was outmatched.

He stopped directly in front of me, his eyes bloodshot and wild with a manic energy. "If he ever sets foot in this territory again, Sara, I won’t just fight him. I’ll rip his heart out while you watch. Do you understand me? I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of him for you to run to."

I didn't understand why he was directing this venom at me. He should be saving those threats for Rune. I knew, however, that his ego was too bruised to handle the truth, so he would take his frustration out on the only person he could control. I sat on the edge of the large mahogany bed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap to hide their involuntary trembling.

My mind was a hurricane. Rune’s words—the way he called me his Queen, the way he focused on me as if the rest of the world had dissolved—still echoed in the chambers of my heart. I didn't know if I loved him, or if I was simply desperate for the salvation he represented. But seeing Tristan like this, so small and desperate in his rage, made the choice feel infinitely easier.

"Go ahead," I said, my voice coming out cold and sharp as a winter frost. "Hurt him if you can. But I was in that cell, Tristan. I saw the whole thing from start to finish."

Tristan’s jaw tightened until I thought his teeth might crack. He let out a harsh, barking laugh that held no humor. "You saw him flee! He ran away like a common coward the moment my guards arrived. The winner is the person who holds the ground, Sara. I am still standing here. He is just a ghost retreating into the rain."

I felt a bitter, mocking smile touch my lips. "He didn't run because he was scared of you, Tristan. He ran because he didn't want me caught in the crossfire of fifty rifles. He protected me. But before those guards arrived? Rune whooped your ass. You're standing there bragging while you can barely draw a full breath through the ribs he shattered."

Tristan flinched as if I’d struck him across the face.

"You aren't a warrior," I continued, the words pouring out like sweet venom. "You couldn't stand up to a fellow Alpha when it was just the two of you, one-on-one. You're only strong enough for the people you can bully—the ones you keep in chains and starve in the dark. You’re not a king, Tristan. You’re a coward playing a part."

The silence that followed was heavy and terrifying. Tristan didn't roar this time. He didn't raise his hand to me. Instead, he walked over to a small, velvet-lined box resting on the dresser. He pulled out a heavy, ornate collar made of polished, cold silver. It hummed with a faint, unnatural blue light—an enchantment, designed to suppress a wolf's spirit and bind a human's will.

"If you want to talk about chains," he whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying, quiet fury, "then let's make it official."

He lunged forward, forcing the collar around my neck. The silver felt freezing against my skin, a heavy, suffocating weight that seemed to drain the very air from my lungs. He locked it with a definitive, metallic click.

"You aren't going anywhere," he growled, his face inches from mine. "Not because I care what you think of me, but because Rune wants you. And I will never let him have a single thing that belongs to me. You are a possession, Sara. Nothing more."

He left me alone after that, literally chained to the heavy mahogany bedpost by a short silver lead. Hours crawled by. The storm outside eventually died down to a dull, rhythmic drizzle. I lay on the floor, the cold silver biting into my neck, my spirit feeling as heavy as the metal, until I heard voices echoing from the outer study.

The door was slightly ajar, just enough for the sound to travel. I could hear Harlan’s low, steady tone and the sound of Tristan’s agitated pacing.

"This is madness, Tristan," Harlan was saying. "The silver collar? Chaining her like a common beast? The pack is starting to talk, and not in the way you want. They see a leader who has lost his grip on his own dignity and his own sanity."

"I am securing my property, Harlan!" Tristan snapped, the sound of a glass breaking hitting the floor.

"Is that truly what she is? Property?" Harlan’s voice was thick with skepticism. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're absolutely terrified. I’ve seen you win wars against impossible odds, Tristan, but I’ve never seen you look the way you do when you look at her. Tell me the truth... are you in love with Sara?"

I held my breath, the silver collar feeling like it was physically tightening around my throat.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tristan scoffed, but there was a telltale crack in his voice—a tremor he couldn't hide. "She’s a murderer. She killed Claudia. I hate her with every fiber of my being."

"You don't act like a man who hates," Harlan countered softly. "You act like a man who is desperate for a woman to look at him the way she looked at the Conqueror tonight. It doesn't make sense to keep her this close, to suffer her insults, and to protect her from Yvonne's wrath, until you look at it through the lens of love. It's the only thing that explains why you haven't just killed her and ended the threat once and for all."

There was a long, heavy silence. I heard the sound of a decanter hitting a glass, the clink of ice against crystal.

"A little bit," Tristan finally whispered. The words were so quiet, so broken, that I almost missed them. "I think... I’m a little bit in love with her. And it’s killing me, Harlan. Every time she looks at me with that pure, unadulterated hatred, I want to burn the entire world down just to change her mind."

"Then stop punishing her for it," Harlan advised, his voice softening with pity. "You’re driving her right into Rune’s waiting arms. If you want her to stay, Tristan, you have to stop being her jailer and start being a man she can actually respect. Tell her the truth. Take that collar off her and see what happens."

I closed my eyes, a single, hot tear sliding down my cheek and hitting the cold, enchanted silver. He loved me. The monster who had ruined my life, who had humiliated me in front of his people and kept me in a hole, claimed to love me. And the most terrifying part of that realization wasn't the lie—it was the truth. I didn't know if it made me feel safer, or more trapped in this nightmare than I had ever been before.