Three days in a gilded cage, and I was losing my mind. The penthouse had everything—marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, a bed that felt like sleeping on clouds. But the doors were locked from the outside, guards rotated every six hours, and Lucian hadn't spoken a single word to me since that first night. He was avoiding me. I felt it in my bones—in the strange, aching pull that had taken up residence in my chest. The mate bond, or whatever wolves called it, didn't care that he'd almost rejected me. It just... wanted. Constantly. This morning, I'd woken at dawn to find fresh clothes laid out—designer everything, tags still attached, all in my size. A note in sharp, masculine handwriting: Wear these. Stay inside. —L I'd crumpled the note and thrown it across the room. Now I stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing silk pajamas that cost more than my monthly rent, staring at a refrigerator stocked with food I hadn't asked for. The anger had been simmering for days. Today, it boil
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