Chapter 6

Isla's POV

“Sheila… this mark, it’s not going away, is it?”

I traced my fingers along the faint bite mark etched across the curve of my nape, eyes fixed on the reflection staring back from the mirror. Pale skin. Wild dark hair. A crimson mark shaped by sharp canines — his canines.

Sheila’s hands were busy tying my hair into a loose braid, but I didn’t miss the small smile tugging at her lips.

“It’ll fade,” she promised softly, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “The temporary ones always do. Alpha Killian only marked you to save your life, Isla.”

I held her gaze a moment longer. Her words were meant to reassure, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

Temporary or not, nothing about that mark felt insignificant.

“And yet no one talks about him,” I muttered, fingers still hovering near the mark. “Not even you.”

Sheila’s hands stilled briefly in my hair before resuming their rhythm.

“You’ve been healing. That’s all that matters right now.”

It was a neat deflection, but I didn’t push. I had learned quickly. People in this territory didn’t throw around the name Killian Daemon lightly. No one ever did in any territory. We all heard numerous rumors about him, but no one thought he would be extremely worshipped and feared right in his own Pack. If that was the case.

A week had passed since my near-death escape. Or rather, my rescue — if you could call being marked by the most feared Alpha alive a rescue. But despite my strength returning faster than it should, the questions still swarmed my mind.

Why me? Why? How the hell was it possible that someone like Killian, the Lycan King himself, was my mate?

I couldn’t explain the fire that burned beneath my skin when I thought of him.

Or the way I still felt his voice lingering in my bones from that night. “You’re safe now… You’re home.”

I couldn't push his soft words away, nor how soothing his hands were caressing my hair. I did love Lucien enough to despise any touch, regardless of how loving or good-looking the other person was. But then, I didn't hate the Alpha's touch, in fact, I craved his fingers in my hair.

I bite my lips nervously, pushing the thoughts away. I had confirmed it from the unusual thought creeping its way into my head, Alpha Killian was truly my mate.

I hadn’t seen him since, not properly. The staff fussed over me, doctors ran tests, healers whispered, but his presence? Absent. Avoiding me or giving me space, I wasn’t sure which.

And now, apparently, I was getting discharged.

I stood from the vanity, adjusting the simple blouse and jeans Sheila had given me among a few cute clothes. Far better than the torn, bloodstained clothes I'd been brought in with. My legs, once broken beyond recognition, felt… whole. Strong.

Goddess, even walking felt unreal.

Sheila led me out onto a cobbled pathway, sunlight spilling through towering trees. Two other women flanked us, their chatter light and friendly, though I caught the sideways glances they gave me, curiosity masked behind politeness.

I didn’t blame them.

We hadn’t made it far when two men approached, both clad in sharp black suits, their expressions unreadable beneath dark sunglasses.

“Miss Isla.” One of them nodded curtly. “Alpha Killian has asked us to escort you home.”

I froze. The air tensed around me.

“Home?” I repeated cautiously. “What… home?”

I hadn't thought for a second I would stay at Aloha Killian's Pack after I recovered. I hope what he meant by home wasn't returning to Lucien or my vile family.

Sheila’s hand brushed my arm, calm and grounding. “His estate. You’re discharged. You’re safe with them.”

“Safe…” I echoed, still wary, but Sheila’s gaze was steady. I trusted that far more than the men’s cold politeness.

With a hesitant nod, I followed them to the sleek black car waiting nearby, its dark windows gleaming like obsidian under the sun.

The drive was silent, tension curling low in my stomach as the city blurred past. But the moment we entered the estate grounds, awe chased the fear away.

Sprawling gardens, marble pathways, fountains taller than me. The mansion, no, palace, rose from the earth like something carved from moonlight and stone. Imposing. Immaculate.

They ushered me through grand doors into a living space that belonged in magazines — wide, open, impossibly elegant, yet it hummed with power.

And there he was.

Killian Daemon.

Seated casually on a sleek leather couch, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos snaking along his forearms. His inky black hair framed his face, dark waves brushing sharp cheekbones.

His amber eyes swept over me the moment I stepped in, molten, predatory, unnervingly beautiful.

I hated how my pulse stuttered under that gaze.

The two men beside him, likely his subordinates, pointed out something in a file, murmuring numbers and reports, but Killian’s attention never wavered from me.

The men who brought me left silently, and with a slight nod from Killian, the others did too, gathering their papers and disappearing out a side door.

The room settled into silence.

I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes anywhere but his chest — because goddess, did he have to look like that? Muscled, confident, lounging like this was routine. Was this how he dressed when “summoning” people?

“Isla.” His voice wrapped around my name like velvet and commanded all at once. “You’re healed.”

“You told me your name, Little Flower.”

Heat flushed my cheeks as I wondered why, in the goddess's name, that sentence decided to replay in my head right now.

“Seems so.” My voice cracked faintly, but I lifted my chin, refusing to cower. “Your doctor says I’m fine. Guess I should thank you… for saving my life.”

His lips curved faintly, unreadable. “It wasn’t just saving your life, little flower. It was marking my mate.”

Little fucking flower! He called me that again!

The mark on my neck burned under my collar, invisible but present all the same.

I cleared my throat, cautious. “About that… I appreciate everything, I do. But… I’d like to leave the park now.”

A heavy pause. His gaze sharpened but his expression remained neutral.

“Where would you go?” he asked simply.

“Somewhere else. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, amused but not entirely warm. “I disagree. I marked you, Isla. That alone puts a target on your back aside from your previous enemies.”

I stiffened. “You marked me to save me.”

“I did,” he agreed. “But now? You carry my scent. My protection. Enemies will smell it… and challenge it.”

I hesitated. The logical part of me knew he was right. The reckless part? Wanted distance anyway.

Killian stood smoothly, walking toward me — every inch commanding, exuding danger laced with quiet care.

“You’re free to leave… eventually. But not now.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you feel indebted, work for me.”

My brows shot up. “Work for you?”

“In my company,” he explained. “Sheila will help conceal the mark. You’ll stay under protection until things settle.”

“And if I say no?”

His smile was faintly wicked. “Then you’ll find it difficult to find safe ground outside these walls.”

I exhaled, tension coiling tight.

“And staying here?” I pressed.

“Standard employee housing,” he replied smoothly. “You work, you stay. Simple.”

His gaze locked onto mine, daring me to refuse, yet leaving the illusion of choice.

Silence stretched between us, heavy, crackling with unspoken truths.

I bit my lip, thinking hard, then finally muttered, “I’ll work for you… But I don’t trust you.”

Why did I say that? No idea.

But my experience with the people I trusted the most is enough to teach me not to get beaten twice, right?

Killian’s smile deepened, knowing, and somehow dangerous. Everything about him reeks of safe danger. Whatever that was.

“Good.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I wouldn’t trust myself either.”