Lyra sat on the cold stone floor, her chest heaving with labored breaths as she glared at the door Kael had disappeared through. The throbbing pain in her wrists was nothing compared to the bitter ache in her chest—the humiliation of being trapped, powerless under his command.
She hated him. She **had** to hate him. But the way her body had betrayed her under his touch left her shaken, unsettled in a way she didn't want to admit. The tension between them was undeniable, a crackling current of hate, lust, and something far more dangerous.
Pushing herself up, Lyra stumbled toward the small barred window, her chains dragging along the floor. Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, almost full, casting an eerie glow across the compound. Her pack, her home, her people—everything she had known—was gone. She was alone, caged in the heart of the very beast who wanted her destruction.
The silence of the cell only amplified her thoughts, and Lyra's mind swirled with memories—her father's fall, the whispers of treachery, the years spent in hiding. She had always been the hunted, always on the edge of survival. But now, in Kael's grip, it felt different. This was no mere hunt. This was a game. A game where she was both the prize and the pawn.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway again, and Lyra's pulse quickened. Not him again. Not so soon. Her body was still tense from his last assault on her senses, and she couldn't let him see that he'd gotten under her skin. But the door didn't creak open this time. Instead, a soft voice slithered through the bars.
"Enjoying your stay?"
A tall, lean figure stood just outside her cell, his features sharp and his smile too wide. Marcus, Kael's Beta, regarded her with cold amusement. His eyes slid over her, taking in her disheveled appearance, the bruises blooming along her throat, and the tension in her posture.
"I see Kael has already started playing with his new toy," Marcus sneered, stepping closer to the bars. His voice was smooth, but there was something sinister underneath, a dark intent that sent a shiver down her spine.
Lyra straightened, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I'm not his toy."
Marcus chuckled, low and menacing. "No? From where I'm standing, it sure looks like you're right where he wants you."
Her jaw clenched as she pulled against the chains in a futile attempt to maintain some shred of dignity. She hated how vulnerable she felt, trapped in the middle of this twisted power struggle between two men who saw her as nothing more than a means to an end.
Marcus took another step closer, his fingers curling around the bars of the cell. His gaze darkened as he looked her over, and the hunger in his eyes made her stomach churn.
"You know, Kael isn't the only one who likes to play with his prey," he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestion. "Sometimes he shares. If you're lucky, maybe I'll get a turn."
Lyra's stomach twisted in disgust, but she kept her voice steady, refusing to let him see the fear creeping up her spine. "You'd have to kill me first."
Marcus's grin widened. "Death would be too kind. Besides, it's more fun watching you squirm."
Before she could respond, the heavy door to her cell swung open, and Kael's presence filled the room once more. His dark gaze flickered between Lyra and Marcus, and something dangerous sparked in his eyes.
"Get out," Kael growled, his voice low and lethal.
Marcus didn't flinch, but his grin faltered as he released the bars and stepped back. "Just having a little fun," he said smoothly, though the tension between the two Alphas was palpable.
"Now," Kael ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Marcus shot one last look at Lyra, his smile curling with twisted amusement before he sauntered out of the room, leaving Kael and Lyra alone once more.
For a moment, Kael said nothing, his gaze fixed on her. The intensity of his stare was suffocating, as though he could see right through her, past the chains, past the defiance, into something darker—something she didn't want to acknowledge.
Without a word, he stepped forward, and Lyra tensed as he closed the distance between them. His fingers trailed lightly along her arm, sending a jolt through her body. But there was something different in his touch this time—not the rough violence from before, but something far more insidious. It was almost…gentle.
"You'll learn," he murmured, his voice low and dark, "that there are far worse fates than death, Lyra."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reacting. Every part of her screamed to lash out, to fight him, but the chains held her in place, powerless beneath his gaze.
"I will never submit to you," she spat, her voice laced with venom.
Kael's smirk returned, cold and knowing. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "You already have. You just don't know it yet."
The weight of his words settled over her like a suffocating blanket, and for the first time since her capture, Lyra felt a flicker of something other than hate. Fear.
Kael's hand gripped her throat once more, though this time it was softer, almost tender. His thumb brushed the pulse point at the base of her neck, feeling the wild rhythm of her heart. His eyes bored into hers, unblinking, as though he was testing her resolve, waiting for the moment she'd break.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't.
"I'll give you time," he said, his tone maddeningly calm. "To think about your place here. To think about me."
Her pulse quickened, her mind a whirl of fear and anger. She wanted to scream, to fight, but his presence overwhelmed her, and the dark promise in his words made her blood run cold.
With one last lingering touch, Kael released her and stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Soon enough," he said, his voice soft yet terrifying, "you'll understand."
He turned and walked away, leaving Lyra alone in the cold, her body trembling—not just with fear, but with the sickening realization that, deep down, some part of her was already starting to unravel under his control.