Chapter 40: Chains

Maddox POV

Maddox entered Odette's chambers like a storm.

The door slammed against the wall, and the maid who had been arranging the queen's pillows flinched, nearly dropping the armful of linens in her arms. She curtsied quickly and fled, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until there was nothing but silence.

Odette did not flinch.

She sat in her wheelchair by the window, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. The morning light caught the sharp angles of her face, the thin line of her lips, the cold fire in her eyes. She looked like a queen carved from ice. Beautiful. Untouchable.

And utterly furious.

"What was that scene you made out there?" Maddox demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Arriving like that. Demanding answers. Putting me in an uncomfortable position in front of the entire court."

Odette's smile was slow and sharp. "Uncomfortable? I am sorry, husband. Did I embarrass you in front of your mistress?"

Maddox's jaw tightened. "Watch your tongue."

"My tongue speaks the truth. You think I do not see the way you look at her? The way you cannot keep your eyes off Hecate's face, her body, the sway of her hips when she walks?" Odette laughed, a hollow, brittle sound.

"She is beautiful. Too beautiful for you not to want her in your bed. I am not blind, Maddox. I know what you are doing."

"You do not know my feelings, Odette." He stepped closer, his shadow falling across her chair. "And do not pretend to care about them. We both know what you truly care about. What you truly fear losing."

Her smile faltered. Just for a moment.

"The crown," Maddox continued, his voice hard. "That is all you have ever wanted. Before the curse, perhaps there was something between us. Something real. But after..." He shook his head. "After, I saw you clearly. You did not care if I lived or died. You only cared if you remained Luna. If you remained queen."

Odette's hands tightened in her lap. Her knuckles went white.

"And yet you married me," she said. "You performed the mating ritual. You put the crown on my head yourself."

"Because you made sure I had no choice. Because you turned the court against me. Because you made yourself the victim and me the monster." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You are very good at that, Odette. Making yourself look like the wronged party while you pull the strings behind the curtain."

Odette tilted her head, studying him like a curious cat. "And yet here you are. Still married to me. Still wearing that pendant around your neck with another woman's blood inside it."

Maddox's hand moved instinctively to the vial, pressing it against his chest.

"Do not," he warned.

"Do not what? Speak the truth?" She leaned forward, her eyes glittering. "You think I forget about Samantha? About how you used her? About how you let her believe you loved her when all you wanted was her blood to keep the curse at bay?"

Maddox went very still.

"You drove her away," Odette continued, savoring each word. "You broke her heart. And now you carry her blood around your neck like a holy relic, pretending it is love instead of guilt."

"Enough." His voice was quiet, but it cracked through the room like a whip.

Odette sat back, her smile returning. "The truth hurts, does it not?"

"You do not know anything about my guilt. Or my grief."

"I know that you are drowning in both. And I know that you are trying to use Hecate as a life raft." She laughed again. "Poor woman. She has no idea what she is getting into. Another soother, another woman who will end up broken or dead because of you."

Maddox's hands curled into fists at his sides. The wolf stirred beneath his skin, claws pressing against the inside of his knuckles, begging to be released.

But he held back. He would not give her the satisfaction.

"If you know so much about my guilt," he said, "then you also know that I am fully aware of what I did to Samantha. And I am also aware that you helped push her away. You whispered in my ear. You planted doubts. You made sure she heard things that were not true."

Odette's expression did not change. "I protected my position."

"You destroyed another woman to do it."

"I did what I had to do." Her voice was ice. "And so did you. So do not stand there pretending to be the victim, Maddox. You are not the victim. You are the villain in Samantha's story. And you will be the villain in Hecate's too, when she inevitably discovers what kind of man you really are."

Maddox stared at her for a long moment. The fire crackled in the hearth. The wind rattled the windowpane. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed, muffled and final.

"Stay away from me," he said finally, his voice low and empty. "Stay away from Hecate. Stay away from my private life. You have not been part of it for a very long time."

He turned toward the door.

But Odette was not finished.

"It would be in your best interest to behave yourself," she called after him. "To ensure the throne remains mine. That way, perhaps, you might find a way to live with the guilt that is eating you alive."

He paused at the door, his hand on the frame. His back was to her, but he could feel her smile burning into his spine.

"You think the crown will save you," he said quietly. "You think power will fill the emptiness inside you. But it will not, Odette. Nothing will."

He left without looking back.

Her laughter followed him down the corridor, echoing off the stone walls, chasing him like a phantom he could not outrun.

---

The training yard was empty when he arrived.

Maddox welcomed the silence. He needed it. Needed the cold air against his skin, the familiar smell of straw and sweat and old blood. Needed to hit something until his hands went numb and his mind went quiet.

He stripped off his shirt, ignoring the cold, and wrapped his knuckles in leather straps. The punching bag hung from its chains, swaying slightly in the wind, waiting.

He hit it.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The impact jarred his shoulders, sent shockwaves up his arms, but he did not stop. He hit it again and again, each strike harder than the last, until his knuckles bled through the leather and the chains groaned under the force.

He thought of Odette's smile. Her cold eyes. The way she had laughed when she said his name.

He thought of Samantha. The night she had fled. The look on her face when she had overheard him speaking to Odette in the corridor. The way the bond had screamed inside his chest as she rode away, fading, fading, fading into nothing.

He thought of Hecate. The way she had fought beside him in the rogue den. The way her magic had flowed from her fingers like liquid silver. The way she had looked at him when he pulled her onto the stallion, her arms wrapping around his waist, her body pressing against his back.

He did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he wanted.

He only knew that the guilt was eating him alive, and he could not escape it.

Not in the training yard. Not in his chambers. Not in the bottom of a wine bottle.

Not anywhere.

He hit the bag again, harder this time. The chains snapped.

The bag flew across the yard and landed in the snow with a heavy thud.

Maddox stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the white ground. His breath fogged in the cold air. His muscles trembled with exhaustion.

But his mind was still racing.

He pressed his hand to the pendant around his neck, feeling the warmth of Samantha's blood against his palm.

And he wondered, for the thousandth time, if he would ever be free.