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~NYRA~ He leans in… closing the only gap between us. And then I feel him — hard, undeniable. The world slams still. A jolt surges through me — heat, anger, hunger — all at once. My breath stutters. My instinct roars. I wrench free, twisting out of his grip with force and fury, stumbling as my back hits the shower wall. I need this distance to breathe again. Without looking at him, I snatch the towel, wrap it around myself, and step away—putting inches, air, sanity between us. Only then do I look back. Ethan stands there, chest heaving, hair dripping into eyes that are dark and reckless and still hungry with something he doesn’t understand. Steam coils around him like it’s trying to drag him back toward me. I shut that possibility down with a single breath. “Don’t try that again.” My voice is crisp, steady, unshaken despite everything burning under my skin. And I walk out, leaving him in the heat, in the chokehold of almost, in the moment neither of us will
~NYRA~ “Ethan.” His name leaves me like a blade—sharp, clean, meant to cut. Steam coils around us in thick, rolling waves, turning the shower into something small and suffocating. A cage. A battlefield. The water beats down my back, hot and merciless, and every drop that hits my skin feels like, somehow, it echoes inside him too. He stands in front of me—drenched, cornered, rigid with rage he doesn’t have space to put down. His chest rises against my forearm—slow, deliberate—like a test of how far I can go before I snap. And the worst part? I am hyper aware of everything. Every pulse thundering under his skin. Every stutter in his breath. Every wrong, impossible thread of the bond humming beneath my ribs, sharpening my senses until the entire world narrows down to a single focus. Him. His eyes lock on mine—bright, fevered, defiant. “Why the fuck are you attacking me?” he rasps, voice cracked and unsteady. My grip tightens on instinct—then slips, fractionally, like even m
~NYRA~ “I don’t feel anything,” he cuts in. A clean fact, it slices through me—even though I never asked for this bond, the truth still lands like a bruise under my ribs. “Good,” I snap. “Maybe that’ll make this easier.” His eyes narrow. “Easier for what?” “To use this bond,” I lean forward until the air between us tightens, “and then break it.” His nostrils flare. He steps closer, slow, deliberate, until heat rolls between us. “You wolves,” he murmurs, face inches from mine, “are absolutely insane.” “You haven’t seen my insanity,” I say, quiet as death. “If I didn’t need you to become Alpha, I’d have killed you and ended this shit show already.” His brows twitch. “Alpha?” he echoes, eyes flicking toward Aaron like he’s piecing together a language he’s never heard. Understanding snaps into place: He’s human. A clueless, infuriating, fragile human. He knows nothing. Absolutely nothing. "You know nothing." I say. His jaw hardens. “Not everyone grows up as a mo
~NYRA~ Satisfaction hums beneath my skin as I walk out of the dungeon, the cold stone still clinging to my clothes, the metallic scent of blood and rust trailing behind me. His defiance cracked. Not fully—just enough to show the fracture beneath. And that—goddess help me—felt good. 'It wasn’t', Nina growls, low and disapproving. 'Don’t hurt mate.' 'Mate or not', I huff back, 'this is what we need. What the pack needs.' She wails at that, but doesn’t fight me. Not on this. “Nyra!” Aaron’s voice cuts through the hallway, sharp as a blade. I turn. He strides toward me, the afternoon light slicing across his features—brows drawn, shoulders tense. It makes him look older, more Alpha than he’ll ever admit. “So?” he asks quietly. “What happens now?” 'Not here. My office', I mind-link. His jaw twitches, but he nods and leads the way. The office door shuts with a soft thud behind us—still too small, too cramped, smelling faintly of old paper and the lemon cleanser the
~ETHAN~ I freeze. Instinct takes over. The transmitter goes under the mattress in an instant, my hand snapping back just as the door swings open. Aaron stands there, suspicion darkening his features. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. His gaze sweeps the room—slow, assessing, like he’s mapping every lie I could be hiding behind. Then he exhales through his nose. “Relax. I’m not here to bite.” Could’ve fooled me. He steps inside, holding something small—a first-aid box. “I forgot this,” he says, tossing it onto the bed. It lands inches from where the transmitter’s hidden. My pulse spikes. “Do you need a doctor?” he asks after a beat—like he’s already calculated my odds of dying on their floor. “I’m not weak,” I say through my teeth. He chuckles under his breath. “Great. Stay that way.” He doesn’t leave immediately. His gaze drifts around the room—bed, window, sink—slow, deliberate, disguised as casual. But he’s checking. Making sure nothing’s out of place… or
~ETHAN~ “But if you cooperate with me,” she says, voice calm but edged with steel, “I promise you protection. And everything you’ll need.” Protection. From what—her? The thought almost drags a laugh out of me, bitter and dry. Her hands — the same ones that were ready to end me moments ago — rise. Fingers brush the split on my lip, cold against bruised skin. Her eyes shift, liquid green swallowing the brown, faintly glowing in the half-dark. My breath catches. I should pull away. I should move. But I don’t. I can’t. How’s she doing that? My pulse hammers against the bruises on my neck. Every instinct screams to run, but my body refuses to obey. For a second, her gaze feels like gravity itself — fierce, inescapable. Then she exhales, breaks the spell, and turns for the door. The faint scrape of her boots echoes off the damp walls, each step peeling away the haze she left behind. And without her influence, I snap back into myself. I can’t stay here. No chance I’ll escape







