Kieran was watching, his eyes dark and unreadable, probably waiting for me to slip up—to embarrass myself in front of Chloe’s smug entourage. Chloe lived to put me in my place, like I was some kind of nuisance she enjoyed stepping on. But this time, I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.Just as Chloe opened her mouth to lash out, I cut her off, iIsn’t it exhausting, Chloe?” I asked, voice thick with mockery “Always dragging yourself through life jealous and bitter because you’ll never be anything more than second best.”Her smile faltered, like I’d caught her off guard. The usual confidence wavered, just a flicker, but it was enough.“What did you say?” she snapped, eyes narrowing.I leaned in just slightly, smirking. “If I’m just a lowly half-wolf, then what’s your reason for always trying to outdo me? What’s your prize if a half-wolf poses no threat to your precious status?”Her expression twisted. She was actually considering my words, wrestling with the truth I’d thrown at
Lucian’s grip tightened so I could feel the weight of the threat. His eyes burned with something dark—anger, fear, both. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away. I finally understood something critical. They wouldn’t kill me. Not now. Not when I was the only thing keeping them from unraveling.“I’m not your enemy,” I said, voice steady despite the pressure on my throat. “But I am the one thing keeping your wolves from breaking free and tearing this place apart.”Lucian’s eyes narrowed.“I know what’s happening,” I continued. “The loss of control. The bloodlust. You and Kieran are spiraling, and you know it.”He said nothing. But his silence wasn’t denial—it was hesitation. Doubt.“I can calm you,” I said, low and deliberate. “You felt it last night, Lucian. When your wolf nearly took over, who brought you back? Who kept you from losing it completely?”The fingers around my throat twitched. And then, slowly, they uncurled. Lucian stepped back, his expression unreadable, the storm in his e
Lucian remained on top of me, my throat in his hand but his mind was miles away. His eyes were blank, distant vacant.“Let go,” I whispered.His fingers loosened. He moved stiffly, with almost puppet-like obedience. When I reached out and placed my palm against his cheek, he leaned into it. Obedient. Passive. Gentle. Too gentle. His breath was steady, slow.I watched him for a moment longer, then cautiously guided him to sit on the edge of the cot. He followed, compliant, saying nothing. I sat beside him, still alert for a snap or growl, but none came.My fingers trembled as I reached out again—partially to soothe, partially to test a theory. When I brushed his hair back from his face, Lucian leaned into the touch like it was instinct.A memory flickered.It wasn’t something I’d ever believed until now—something the older wolves whispered late at night. About alpha wolves who ruled too many packs, spilled too much blood. That the more power they held, the closer their wolves came to m
Kieran didn’t respond to my question. He just stared for a long moment, his jaw tight, then released me without a word. It was unlike him not to have the last say. His silence was more unsettling than any threat he could have made. But I didn’t wait around to question it.I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding, muscles still tensed from the confrontation. I didn’t feel safe—but at least I was alone. Finally.Back in the narrow servant quarters, I didn’t collapse in exhaustion. I trained. Push-ups, sit-ups, shadowboxing in silence until sweat soaked my collar. The only thing that kept me sane was motion—reminding myself I still had control over my own body, even if I was under theirs.The guards rarely spoke to me. The servants avoided eye contact, their gazes flicking to the collar at my neck like it was a live wire. I wasn’t just different, I was a warning. A symbol of what happened to defiant wolves. No one dared ask what I'd done. But I saw their whispers, their pity, and som
“That collar belongs to the dog I owned,” Kieran said, stroking the small metal tag that hung from the black leather strap around my neck. His voice was soft, almost fond, as if he were reminiscing. “I want you to always remember—you need to be a good pup.”The words were meant to humiliate, to put me in my place. I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat, forcing myself to meet his eyes. My lip curled, but I didn’t move. I had learned my lesson the hard way. For now, playing docile was safer. He liked the illusion of control, the illusion of obedience. And I was excellent at illusions.He said I could only take the collar off when he allowed it. As if my body was his territory now. As if wearing that thing somehow meant I was his. I almost laughed. If he thought owning me was that easy, he didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into.“You know,” I said sweetly, “that means your dog doesn’t have a collar anymore.”Kieran’s expression froze. A pause. Just long enough to be noticea
I woke to the scent of cedarwood. A bed—an actual bed—cradled my aching body, its plush mattress so foreign after the cold stone floor that for a moment, I wasn’t sure I was still alive. The light was soft, golden, filtered through heavy curtains. Warmth radiated from somewhere near, wrapping me in comfort I didn’t trust.Then I noticed the walls. Dark wood. Framed photographs. A hunter’s rifle mounted above the doorway. This wasn’t a dungeon anymore. This was a bedroom. And not just any bedroom.I turned my head slowly, trying not to jar my stiff neck. On the nightstand beside me sat a small framed photo. Four figures stared back at me from the picture—two men, a woman, and a large hunting dog, all caught mid-laughter in some happier time. The woman had warm, honey-blonde hair that curled at the ends and the same piercing silver eyes as Lucian. The man looked strong and calm, with a broad hand resting gently on one boy’s shoulder.Kieran.Even as a boy, his smile had been wide, open.