Chapter 5: By a Whisker

Third POV

The throne room had never felt more like a cage.

Maddox sat on the cold stone steps before his empty throne, his wrists bound in heavy iron chains that ran to anchors bolted into the floor.

The silver in the metal bit into his skin, leaving welts that wept and healed and wept again. He had stopped counting the days since Samantha disappeared.

Time had lost meaning. There was only the gnawing ache in his chest where the bond pulsed like a dying heartbeat, and the red haze pressing at the edges of his vision that never fully receded anymore.

The guards flanking the doors kept their distance. They had learned not to stand too close.

Ranulf entered with a flourish, his grey eyes bright with something that looked like triumph. Behind him walked a girl. Young. Too young.

She could not have seen more than sixteen summers, her dark hair braided tightly against her scalp, her hands clasped so firmly before her that her knuckles had gone white. She wore a pale blue gown that made her look like a offering dressed for slaughter.

She was trembling. He could see it from across the room.

"This is Lady Ysabella of the Wildheart pack," Ranulf announced, his voice carrying through the vast hall. "She has been sent to serve as your new soother. Her pack assures me her scent is exceptionally calming. She comes highly recommended."

The girl flinched at the word soother. She knew what it meant. They all knew.

Maddox did not look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on Ranulf, on the careful mask of concern his uncle wore like a second skin.

"I do not want another soother."

Ranulf's smile did not falter. "My king, you need one. The curse is worsening. The guards cannot keep you contained much longer. You killed a man three days ago. A loyal soldier who had served your family for decades."

"I remember." Maddox's voice was flat. "I remember his blood on my hands. I remember the look in his eyes before the wolf took him. I remember the others I killed, too. I remember everything, Ranulf. Do not pretend I do not."

The girl, Ysabella, made a small sound. Fear or pity, he could not tell.

Ranulf stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Then you understand why this is necessary. Samantha is gone. You cannot bring her back. But you can honor her memory by accepting the help that is offered."

Maddox's chains rattled as he leaned forward. The silver bit deeper, but he did not flinch. "She is not dead."

Ranulf's expression flickered. Just for a moment. Then the mask smoothed back into place. "My king, we found her dress. Soaked in blood. The scent was unmistakable."

"I know what I felt." Maddox pressed his palm against his chest, right over the bond. "She is alive. I can feel her heartbeat. Every moment of every day. The bond is not broken. It has not frayed. It is waiting, Ranulf. She is waiting. And I will not betray her by taking another while she breathes."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Ranulf's jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck corded once, twice, before he regained control. He turned to the girl and gestured sharply toward the door. "Leave us."

Ysabella fled without a second glance, her footsteps echoing off the stone until the doors closed behind her.

Ranulf stood over Maddox, looking down at him with an expression that was no longer kind. It had never been kind, Maddox realized. It had only ever been patient. "You are being unreasonable," Ranulf said quietly.

"I am being a mate."

"You are being a fool." The words landed like blows. "She is wolfless, Maddox. Worthless. She cannot help or save you. The only thing she can do is distract you from what matters. The kingdom. The throne. The control you have spent years clawing back from the curse."

Maddox laughed. It was a hollow sound, bitter and broken.

"Control? You have controlled everything, Uncle. The soothers. The guards. The information that reaches my ears. You have ruled in my place while I drowned in madness, and you have grown comfortable there." He lifted his chin, meeting Ranulf's grey eyes without fear. "But I am awake now. And I will find her."

Ranulf stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned and walked toward the doors. "Take the King to his chambers," he ordered the guards. "Double the suppressors. He is not to leave that room under any circumstances."

The guards moved to obey. Maddox did not fight them. He had learned to choose his battles.

---

Samantha heard the footsteps before she saw the light.

They were heavier than Tori's. More deliberate. More confident. The tread of a man who knew exactly where he was going and what he would find when he got there.

The door to her cell swung open, and Ranulf stepped inside.

Behind him, two guards filled the doorway, their faces blank, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They did not look at her. They did not need to. They were not here to see her. They were here to hold her.

Ranulf approached slowly, his grey eyes sweeping over her with the same cold assessment he had shown the first time they met.

She was pressed against the far wall, her wounded wrist cradled against her chest, her ashen hair tangled and dull in the dim light. She must have looked pathetic. She felt pathetic.

"You need to die," Ranulf said, as if he were commenting on the weather. "Truly die. Only then will Maddox accept that you are gone. Only then will he stop fighting. Only then will he be completely mine to control."

Samantha's heart slammed against her ribs. "You cannot. The bond"

"The bond will fade once your heart stops beating." He drew a dagger from his belt, the blade catching the faint silver light of the runes.

"It will hurt. I will not pretend otherwise. But it will be quick. Quicker than what the rogues would have done, at least. You should thank me for that small mercy."

She pressed herself flatter against the wall, her hands raised in front of her, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The guards did not move to help her. They would not. They were his.

"Please," she whispered. "Please do not do this. He will know. He will"

Ranulf stepped forward, the dagger raised.

---

Tori ran.

Her legs burned. Her lungs ached. But she did not stop. She could not stop. She had seen Ranulf go to the cells. She had seen the dagger in his hand.

And she had known, with a certainty that turned her blood to ice, that Lady Samantha was about to die.

The bundle of hair was still tucked into her sleeve. She had been waiting for the right moment to place it, for a chance to slip past the guards and leave the trail where the King would find it. But there was no more time for waiting.

She rounded a corner and nearly collided with the guards escorting Maddox to his chambers.

The King walked between them, his wrists still bound in chains, his head bowed. He looked defeated. Broken. But when Tori passed, when she let the bundle slip from her sleeve and scatter across the stone floor, his head snapped up.

His nostrils flared.

His eyes went wide.

Samantha. Fresh. Close. Alive.

The guards yanked at his chains, but Maddox did not move. He dropped to his knees, his fingers brushing against the pale strands of hair on the floor. He lifted them to his face and breathed.

"Samantha."

"Move, my king," one of the guards said, tugging at the chains. "Lord Ranulf gave orders. You are to return to your chambers immediately."

Maddox lifted his head. His eyes were no longer human. They burned gold, then red, then gold again. "She is here," he said. "She is here, and she is in danger."

The guards exchanged a glance. One of them reached for his sword.

Maddox moved faster than thought.

The chains shattered. The silver links exploded outward, fragments scattering across the stone floor like shrapnel. The first guard never had time to draw his weapon.

Maddox's fist caught him in the chest, and the man flew backward, slamming into the wall with a crack that echoed through the corridor.

The second guard lunged, but the wolf was already there. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. Dark fur erupted across Maddox's skin as the transformation tore through him in the space of a heartbeat.

The guard's sword clattered to the floor, followed by the guard himself, his throat torn open before he could scream.

Maddox did not look back.