Chapter 7

Isla’s POV

The words still echoed as Killian leaned back, that maddening smirk curving his lips.

“Good… I wouldn’t trust me either.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding despite every warning screaming in my head. He didn’t say it like a threat. No, there was something… else. Something that crawled under my skin, curled low in my stomach, dangerous, commanding, and yet, borderline teasing.

The way his voice dipped, rough, smoky, it wasn’t entirely innocent.

I let down another gulp, my eyes trailing over him before I could stop myself.

His scent hit me next, wild pine, smoke, faint spice that curled low in my stomach, frustratingly intoxicating. The man radiated power from every inch of his tall frame, and the fact that his shirt remained unbuttoned, exposing the hard lines of his chest and the black ink curling along his golden-brown skin.

The rumors about his god-like looks were all completely true. I mean more than anyone had described him, he was perfect beyond the description we all had thought to be exaggeration.

I dragged my eyes away from his bare chest, the crisp white shirt now miraculously unbuttoned halfway down, as if he had loosened some buttons when I wasn't watching. His skin was tanned, torso sculpted like some warrior carved from sin itself.

Focus, Isla.

I raised my eyes to meet his gaze, my teeth involuntarily sinking into my bottom lip. I swear I sensed his jaw clenched while his eyes settled for a fleeting moment on my lips.

Killian straightened, strolling back to the leather couch, lounging as if he hadn’t just unraveled my brain in two sentences. He strolled back to the couch where I’d found him earlier, lowering himself onto the leather seat like he ruled the entire room. Which, to be fair, he actually did. But then again, he ruled not just the room but numerous Packs.

I gathered my nerves, inhaled deeply. “I’ll work for you,” I managed, repeating my acceptance, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “But I don’t… accept this mate bond thing. Whatever’s happening between us.”

Killian tilted his head slightly, amber eyes glowing faintly under the soft light. For a moment, I thought he might argue — might pull rank, or use that terrifying power to corner me into submission. He leaned back, folding his muscular arms across his chest, making his shirt stretch dangerously tight.

Instead, his lips curved faintly, that maddening, dangerous half-smile. “I don’t need you to accept it,” he said simply. “The bond exists, whether you acknowledge it or not.”

I clenched my fists, heat flaring in my cheeks. The arrogance and the ease. But… he wasn’t wrong. The mark at my nape pulsed with every heartbeat invisible beneath the concealing balm Sheila applied earlier, but undeniably present.

My throat tightened, but I squared my shoulders. “Ohh.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. He reached for the phone on the table beside him, dialing a number with practiced efficiency.

“I need you here, now.”

The call ended, and within minutes, the door opened, and the two men from earlier entered.

I recognized them instantly — the sharp-eyed men seated beside Killian when I first arrived. One, silver-eyed and unreadable, carried himself with quiet command. Beta, my instincts whispered. The other, more relaxed but equally dangerous, trailed just behind him.

Killian remained seated, barely acknowledging them as his attention flicked back to me. Without warning, he tossed a sleek black card across the table.

I caught it on reflex.

“Temporary access,” he instructed. “Use it for anything you need, clothes, essentials, ID registration.” His eyes narrowed slightly, voice turning clipped, cool. “Liam will oversee everything.”

I stared at the card, unease twisting in my chest. My lips parted before my brain caught up.

“You don’t… require qualifications?” I asked, arching a brow. “Most people hiring do.”

Killian’s eyes burned into mine, faint amusement lingering beneath the ice.

“Liam will have that settled,” he replied, nodding towards the silver-eyed Beta, voice cool. “You start once Sheila clears you.”

Liam gave a single nod, his gaze assessing me like I was practically not some stranger.

Killian added, “Sheila called. Said you’re still recovering. You’ll rest today, you will get whatever you need tomorrow.”

I hesitated, fingers ghosting the edge of the card. His expression didn’t waver. He wasn’t asking — but he wasn’t forcing me either. The choice, for once, felt… mine.

My body still remembered very vividly the river… the ache in my limbs, the raw terror.

I straightened my spine, ignoring the residual ache in my chest.

“Fine,” I murmured, sliding the card into my pocket. “I’m very thankful, Alpha. I'll pay back all your kindness.”

Killian’s lips quiver faintly. “Good.”

Turning to Liam, he added, “She stays in the estate until accommodations are arranged. Take care of that too.”

Liam nodded once. Cole lingered, seated, his gaze flicking between me and Killian with quiet curiosity.

A quick knock interrupted the tension and a young maid peeked in, eyes wide, posture stiff with nerves.

Killian’s attention flicked toward her. “Show her to her room.”

The girl nodded, gesturing for me to follow. I trailed her through winding halls, the mansion vast and suffocating all at once. Every polished surface gleamed, my step echoed too loudly.

The guest suite was luxurious, muted greys, soft lighting, understated wealth, and it felt better. Extremely better than what I used to know back at Red Ridge Pack.

The bed was soft, the blankets warm. And in no moment, I was already snoring slightly.

The next day arrived in quiet chaos.

Sheila appeared with a grin, her arms laden with creams and bottles. “Up,” she ordered, uncapping a small jar of concealing balm. “Let's cover the mark.”

The faint bite on my neck still pulsed beneath my skin. I tilted my head, allowing her to apply the cool balm.

“It’ll hide it,” she promised. “But don’t scratch it, or people will notice.”

I muttered under my breath, “Like your Alpha.”

Sheila smiled, smoothing the cream along my skin. “Killian notices everything, Isla.”

A sharp knock at the door announced another arrival, interrupting us. A tall woman with a cutting gaze in her early twenties walked in.

“Sasha,” she introduced herself, her tone brisk but not unfriendly. “Assigned to assist you by the Lycan King.”

I stared, suspicion curling low. Assigned? Another guard with a friendly face.

But after everything… Maybe I needed allies, fake or not.

Still, I appreciated the company. Sasha had a sarcastic edge that fit well with Sheila’s quiet warmth. Together, they escorted me to a private car waiting outside.

I nearly choked when I saw the fleet of black SUVs flanking us.

Sasha noticed. “Standard security,” she explained casually. “Beta Liam’s orders.”

“Isn’t this a bit much? I’m not royalty,” I muttered.

“You’re marked by Killian,” Sheila reminded me gently. “That makes you important, whether you want to be or not.”

The shopping trip that followed was oddly surreal, high-end boutiques, sleek storefronts, whispered stares trailing behind me.

Despite the heavy security, black SUVs flanking our car, sharp-eyed guards tailing every step, I relished the normalcy of browsing racks of clothes that weren’t forced on me. All my life as Lucien's wife, I wore clothes Arielle would wear, I had to do everything she would do, just so to please Lucien.

Yet, my mind drifted…

Arielle claimed I was a Blackwood offspring.

What if Arielle lied? What if I was nothing?

If I was Blackwood… why didn’t they find me? Why leave me to rot?

But if I carried Blackwood blood, if the Moon’s flame truly burned in me, then Lucien, Arielle, and every coward who left me for dead would pay.

The thought kept nudging me even as we returned to the estate after dusk. Sasha briefed me on Beta Liam’s orders, security would shadow me until threats settled.

Dinner was a grand affair. Killian, however, was absent.

I ate without tasting a thing, forcing food down while my mind buzzed with unease. As soon as I could, I slipped away toward the stairs.

The lights flickered once the instant my leg hit the stairs, then everything snapped to black.

My heart jumped to my throat. The house vanished around me, replaced by thick, suffocating dark. I stood frozen, straining to see, to hear anything. My breath hitched, chest tightening fast.

I tried moving, even attempted saying anything, but my voice stuck.

Panic shot through me like a wire pulled tight. The shadows pressed in, and suddenly, I wasn’t here anymore. I was eight years old again, shoved under the stairs, that cramped, freezing space swallowing me whole. The door slammed. The dark stretching forever.

My legs buckled. I dropped to the floor, arms locked around my knees, rocking without thinking. My whole body shook, breath breaking apart in short, shallow bursts.

“No,” I gasped, gripping tighter, the word cracking in my throat. “No… someone save me. Save me please.”

Sobs ripped from my throat as my body shook uncontrollably, vision spinning in and out.

The door burst open with so much urgency I barely noticed it, heavy footsteps cutting through my whimpers as they marched right towards me.

“Lights. Now.” Killian’s voice shattered the suffocating dark, laced with raw command.

He came. Someone came.

The room exploded with brightness.

Before I could react, strong arms encased me, lifting me effortlessly off the floor. His scent wrapped around me.

His voice, low and lethal, carried enough dread to paralyze an entire room.

“Who did this to you, Isla? Who fucking locked you in the dark?”