The Defiance

The solid rock cracked under his fist, sending a shower of dust to the floor.

The force of it snapped something back into place inside my head. Raw, pure fear cut through the fever haze. I pulled my hand back, pressing it tightly against my chest.

What am I doing? I thought, panic cutting through the heat. He's the enemy. He called me a freak. He threw me in the cages.

I forced myself to sit up, my bruised ribs screaming in pain. I grabbed the edge of a thick, dark fur blanket that had fallen from the bed and dragged it around my shaking shoulders. I crawled backward, scraping my bare knees against the floor until my back hit the solid wood of his heavy desk.

I was trapped in a corner. And I was waking up.

Cillian slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes were mostly silver now, cold and sharp, but the gold still bled around the edges. He took a slow, deep breath, forcing the Lycan back down into the dark.

"I made a promise," Cillian said, his voice dropping to that terrifying, flat rumble that silenced entire rooms. "When the rogues killed my mother, I swore that no Omega would ever hold power in my court again. They are weak. They are sneaky. And they bring nothing but ruin."

He stepped away from the fireplace, walking slowly toward the center of the room. His gaze shifted, looking at me like a huge problem he couldn't solve.

"My council expects me to take a Queen," Cillian went on, his boots heavy on the floorboards. "An Alpha female from a strong allied pack. Someone who can lead armies. If I walk out onto that balcony tomorrow and show a broken, scarred male Omega from a pack of traitors as my fated mate... they won't just laugh, Elian. They will challenge my right to rule. There will be a war."

My heart pounded against my ribs. "So kill me," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "Tell them I died in the dungeons. Tell them I was nothing."

Cillian stopped. His jaw went tight. "I can't. You know I can't. The bond is set. If you die, I lose half my soul. The Lycan would tear me apart from the inside out."

He crouched down a few feet away from me. He didn't reach out to touch me, but his eyes pinned me to the floor.

"There is a way," Cillian said, his voice going quieter. "You don't have to go back to the kitchens. You don't have to freeze in the dark or scrub blood off the mats."

I tightened my grip on the fur blanket. "What way?"

"The East Tower," Cillian said softly. "It's completely cut off. Only my most trusted guards can get in. I can give you everything you never had. Warm clothes. Real food. A soft bed. You will never be beaten again. You will never have to swallow another one of those toxic pills."

It sounded like heaven. To a boy who had spent nineteen years eating scraps and sleeping in the freezing mud, it sounded like a dream come true.

"And all I have to do," I said, my voice shaking, "is be your secret."

Cillian didn't flinch. "You would be safe."

"I would be a prisoner," I fired back, the fever in my blood turning into hot, blinding rage. "A pet you keep locked in a high tower, hidden away so your precious council doesn't find out their big, scary King is mated to a piece of garbage!"

"Watch your mouth," Cillian warned, a dangerous rumble vibrating in his chest. "I am offering you a life you couldn't have dreamed of yesterday."

"You're offering me a nicer cage!" I screamed, using the desk to force myself to my feet. My legs shook so hard I could barely stand, but I refused to kneel in front of him anymore. "Thorne locked me in a cellar because he thought I was useless. You want to lock me in a tower because you're ashamed of me!"

Cillian stood up to his full, terrifying height. "I am trying to keep you alive! If they find out what you are, they will tear you apart to get to me!"

"Then let them!"

I stumbled backward, my foot hitting something hard. I looked down. The broken, jagged leg of the heavy wooden chair Cillian had smashed against the wall lay on the floor at a sharp angle.

I didn't even think. My will to survive, built up over nineteen years of pain, took over.

I dropped the fur blanket. I grabbed the broken piece of wood and lifted it fast, pressing the sharp, jagged point straight against the pulse on my own throat.

Cillian froze. All the color drained from his face.

"Elian," he said, his voice suddenly breathless. "Put that down."

"No," I gasped, my chest heaving, the air burning my lungs. I pressed the wood harder against my skin. A tiny drop of dark red blood welled up under the sharp point, running down my neck.

The smell of my own blood hit the air.

Cillian took a desperate step forward, his hands raised. "Stop. If you break the vein, I won't be able to heal you fast enough. Put it down."

"I survived the dark," I whispered, tears streaming down my face, but my hand holding the broken wood didn't move a single bit. "I survived the beatings. I survived the hunger. I survived nineteen years of swallowing poison just so men like you couldn't put a collar on me."

I looked the terrifying, monstrous Lycan King straight in his golden eyes.

"I won't be your dirty secret," I swore, my voice clear and strong and unbreakable. "I won't be your toy. Throw me back in the dungeons. Let me die in the mud. But if you try to lock me in that tower... I will finish the job right now."

The room went completely silent, except for the crackling of the fire.

Cillian stared at me. He looked at the blood on my neck. He looked at the scars covering my chest.

He looked into my eyes and saw someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose.

Slowly, Cillian lowered his hands. He dropped down onto one knee in the center of the room, bowing his head slightly, seeing a strength he had never expected to find.

"You want a war, little wolf?" Cillian whispered, a dark, dangerous promise sitting in his words. "Fine. You'll get it."