Chapter Six – The Private Wing

I didn’t expect the private wing of Blackthorn Manor to feel like an entirely different world.

The rest of the estate carried the weight of tradition—grand hallways lined with portraits of past Alpha Kings, the scent of polished wood, and the quiet presence of servants who avoided meeting your eyes.

But here… here it was different.

The corridors were wide and dimly lit, the walls covered in rich charcoal silk instead of the usual pale cream. The paintings were abstract, moody splashes of black and crimson, and the floors were covered in thick rugs that muffled every step.

It felt like walking straight into Adrian’s mind—controlled, intense, and a little dangerous.

The guard who’d been assigned to escort me stopped in front of a tall set of black double doors inlaid with silver. “Lord Adrian said you’re to remain here unless summoned.”

I raised a brow. “And if I decide not to?”

He didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll have to stop you.”

I smiled sweetly. “Good luck with that.”

Still, I stepped inside without pushing the issue.

The room was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark expanse of forest beyond, a roaring fireplace on the far wall, and a massive four-poster bed draped in silk the color of midnight.

It wasn’t just a bedroom. It was a statement.

A place where a man like Adrian could bring a woman and make her forget her own name.

I told myself I wasn’t going to sit on the bed. I told myself I was going to stay as far away from it as possible.

But somehow, I ended up brushing my fingers across the smooth sheets, feeling the weight of what it would mean to actually lie here.

The door opened without warning, and I spun around.

Adrian stood there, still in the suit from earlier, though he’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt. The controlled perfection he’d worn in the council chamber was replaced by something looser… more dangerous.

He shut the door behind him, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made it very clear he noticed where I was standing.

“Getting comfortable?” he asked, his voice low.

“I was looking around,” I said. “Trying to figure out why the Alpha King’s father would keep a wing like this hidden from the rest of the manor.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Because this is where I keep the things that belong to me.”

The words landed like a challenge.

“And you think I belong to you now?”

“I don’t think, Emma,” he said, taking a step toward me. “I decide.”

I refused to move back, even as he closed the space between us. The heat coming off him was tangible, the faint scent of cedar and smoke curling around me like an invisible tether.

“You’re under my protection now,” he continued. “That means there are rules.”

I arched a brow. “Rules?”

“You don’t leave this wing without me. You don’t speak to anyone I haven’t approved. And…” His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to mine. “…if anyone tries to touch you, you tell me first. I’ll deal with them.”

There was a darkness in his tone when he said “deal with” that made me believe him completely.

“And what if,” I said slowly, “the person trying to touch me is you?”

His gaze sharpened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached past me, his hand brushing my waist just enough to make my breath catch, and picked up a crystal decanter from the table beside the bed.

“I don’t have to try, Emma,” he said, pouring himself a drink. “If I want you, you’ll know.”

I hated the way my pulse skipped at those words.

Before I could reply, a soft chime rang from somewhere in the room—a discreet communication device built into the wall. Adrian crossed to it, pressing a button.

A voice crackled through. “My lord, there’s been another attack. This time… it’s on the Whitmore estate.”

Clara’s family home.

Adrian’s eyes met mine, unreadable, but I could feel the shift in the air—the way the game we were playing had just become something far more dangerous.

He set down his glass and straightened, every inch the predator once more.

“Stay here,” he said firmly. “And no matter what happens… do not open that door.”

Then he was gone, leaving me in the darkened room, the fire’s glow dancing over the silk sheets, and the sinking realization that the line between revenge and survival had just blurred beyond recognition.