The silence of her cell was deafening. Lyra pressed her palms against the cold stone floor, trying to ground herself, but her thoughts were a storm she couldn't escape. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Kael's face—those intense green eyes, the way his hand had brushed so gently against her cheek.
It was a lie. A trick. She knew that.
But knowing it didn't stop the feelings creeping in. The softer side of him, however false, had shaken her more than his threats ever could. Her body still ached from the bruises he had given her, but tonight, there had been no violence. No chains.
Lyra drew her knees to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. She had been strong so far. She had resisted his attempts to break her, fought back against his dominance at every turn. But now, with his sudden shift in tactics, she felt like the ground beneath her was crumbling.
He was trying to worm his way into her mind, and worse, it was starting to work.
The door to the cell creaked open, and her eyes snapped open. She instinctively straightened, preparing for another confrontation with Kael, but instead, a different figure stepped into the dim light.
Marcus.
His eyes gleamed in the dark, a predatory smile spreading across his lips as he sauntered toward her. Lyra's stomach twisted at the sight of him. If Kael was dangerous, Marcus was downright sadistic. His presence made her skin crawl, and the way he looked at her made her feel like prey.
"Looks like our little guest is getting special treatment these days," Marcus said, his voice smooth and mocking. He crouched in front of her, his grin widening as he tilted his head, examining her with interest. "Kael's going soft on you, isn't he?"
Lyra didn't respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She stared straight ahead, her jaw tight, even as her pulse quickened.
Marcus chuckled, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face. "I have to admit, I'm curious. What is it about you that's gotten him so...distracted?" His voice was laced with venom, his hand lingering just a little too long on her hair.
"Don't touch me," Lyra spat, jerking her head away from his hand. She hated the way his touch made her skin crawl, the way his presence felt like poison in the air.
Marcus's smile didn't falter. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You think you're safe because Kael's protecting you?" he whispered, his tone dripping with malice. "You're wrong. He's playing a game, Lyra, and you're just another piece on the board."
Lyra's stomach twisted, but she held her ground. "I don't care what game he's playing. I won't submit to him—or you."
Marcus chuckled darkly, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. "That's where you're wrong. You will submit—eventually. Kael's just taking his time, wearing you down." His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "And when you break, I'll be right there to watch."
Before she could respond, the door to the cell swung open again, and this time, Kael stepped inside. His presence filled the room instantly, his gaze locking onto Marcus with barely concealed fury.
"What are you doing here, Marcus?" Kael's voice was low, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.
Marcus rose to his feet, his smile fading slightly but still present. "Just checking on the guest," he said casually, though there was an edge to his words. "Wanted to see how she's holding up."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Get out."
For a moment, Marcus didn't move. His eyes flicked to Lyra, then back to Kael, and the tension in the room thickened. It was clear that Marcus was testing Kael, pushing the boundaries of his authority. But after a long moment, Marcus shrugged and turned to leave, his smile returning.
"Careful, Kael," Marcus said as he walked to the door. "You're playing with fire."
Kael didn't respond, his gaze locked on Marcus's back until he was gone. Only then did he turn to Lyra, his expression hardening.
"Did he hurt you?" Kael asked, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.
Lyra shook her head, her heartbeat still racing from the confrontation. "No," she muttered, though the tension in her body hadn't faded.
Kael's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something close to frustration. He stood there, silent for a moment, as if trying to decide his next move. When he finally spoke, his voice was calmer, though the edge hadn't disappeared.
"I won't let him touch you again," Kael said, his voice low but firm. "You're mine."
The possessiveness in his words made Lyra's skin prickle, but before she could respond, Kael took a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek again—just like before. The touch was soft, almost gentle, but it sent a wave of conflicting emotions through her.
"I know you think you're fighting me," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "But the longer you resist, the more dangerous it will become for you."
Lyra tensed, her body frozen beneath his touch. She wanted to pull away, to fight him, but the look in his eyes—the softness, the strange sincerity—made it hard to move. He was playing with her, manipulating her, but his presence was overwhelming.
"You don't have to suffer, Lyra," Kael continued, his voice low and soothing. "All I ask is that you give in. Let me protect you."
Lyra's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. Protect her? From what? From Marcus? From the rest of the pack? Or from himself?
She shook her head, finally pulling away from his touch. "I don't need your protection."
Kael's eyes darkened, but he didn't move. He stood there for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally stepped back. His calm demeanor never wavered, but Lyra could feel the tension radiating off him.
"You will," Kael said quietly. "Soon."
And with that, he turned and left the cell, locking the door behind him.
Outside in the Courtyard (Kael's POV)
Kael stood in the courtyard, his mind racing. His encounter with Marcus had only confirmed what he already knew—Marcus was pushing for control, testing the limits of Kael's authority. And it wasn't just about the pack anymore. It was about Lyra.
Marcus saw her as a weakness, a distraction that could topple Kael's leadership. But Marcus didn't understand the bigger picture. Kael wasn't just toying with Lyra for his amusement—she was power. And power was something Kael couldn't afford to lose.
His fingers clenched into fists at his sides as he stared out at the darkened landscape. Lyra's defiance was maddening, yes, but her strength was what drew him to her. She was different—different from anyone he had ever encountered. And that made her dangerous, both to him and his pack.
Kael knew Marcus was watching, waiting for him to slip, to make one wrong move. The confrontation in Lyra's cell was just the beginning. Marcus would push harder, exploit every perceived weakness. And Lyra? She was becoming a liability. But one he could use—if he played his cards right.
Kael's chest tightened. He had to make Lyra believe in him, at least enough to stop resisting. He had to control her, not through violence, but through trust—or the illusion of it. He would show her kindness, offer her safety, until she believed he was her only way out. And when that moment came, he'd have her completely under his control.
But time was running out.
The pack was restless. Marcus wasn't the only one who questioned Kael's growing interest in Lyra. The wolves were loyal, yes, but even loyalty had its limits when it came to power. If they thought he was distracted, vulnerable, they'd turn on him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft crunch of footsteps behind him. Kael turned, his gaze sharp, and saw Isla approaching. Her amber eyes gleamed under the moonlight, her expression unreadable.
"Marcus is becoming bolder," Isla said, her voice low but firm. She stopped a few feet from Kael, her arms crossed over her chest. "He's testing you."
"I know," Kael replied, his tone clipped. He didn't need the reminder.
"You can't let him push you around, Kael," Isla continued, her gaze narrowing. "If he thinks you're distracted by...her"—her voice dripped with disdain at the mention of Lyra—"the others will start questioning you, too."
Kael clenched his jaw. Isla was right. Marcus's challenge had already started rippling through the pack. They were waiting for him to put Marcus in his place. But the problem wasn't that simple. If Kael acted too soon, it would only confirm Marcus's suspicions that Lyra had become a weakness.
"Leave Marcus to me," Kael said finally, his voice cold. "He'll learn his place soon enough."
Isla studied him for a moment before nodding, though her expression remained tense. "And what about her?"
Kael's eyes flickered, but he didn't respond immediately. What about Lyra? She was more than just a distraction now. She was a key—one he needed to unlock the power hidden in her bloodline. But he wasn't about to reveal that to anyone, not even Isla.
"She's under my protection," Kael said, his tone hardening. "That's all you need to know."
Isla's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue. She gave a curt nod before turning and disappearing into the shadows, leaving Kael alone once more.
He stared after her, his mind churning with plans. Marcus would have to be dealt with soon. But for now, Kael's focus was on Lyra. She was close—so close to breaking. He could see the cracks in her resolve, the way her defenses wavered under his touch.
He just had to push a little further.
Back in the Cell (Lyra's POV)
Lyra sat in the corner of her cell, her back pressed against the cold stone wall. The darkness seemed heavier tonight, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. Her mind wouldn't stop replaying Kael's words, the softness of his voice, the gentle way he had touched her.
It was a trap. She knew that. He was trying to break her down, make her trust him. But no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they lingered, gnawing at her resolve.
Could Kael really protect her? He had stood between her and Marcus, after all. And his words, though twisted, carried a strange kind of sincerity. But Lyra couldn't let herself believe it. Kael wasn't doing any of this out of kindness. He wanted something from her. He wanted her submission.
But what scared her more than Kael's manipulation was her own reaction to it. The part of her that, despite everything, had felt safer with Kael's hand on her cheek, with his promise that no one else would touch her. That part of her disgusted her, but it was there, lurking beneath the surface.
Lyra clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. **Focus**. She couldn't let herself fall for his lies. She was stronger than that.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the cell door opening. She looked up, half-expecting Kael to walk in, but instead, it was one of the younger pack members—a wolf she had seen a few times in passing, but never spoken to. He was tall, with dark hair and pale blue eyes, his expression serious as he stepped into the room.
He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, watching her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.
"What do you want?" Lyra asked, her voice rough.
The young wolf hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I'm here to bring you food," he said quietly, holding up a small tray.
Lyra narrowed her eyes, her distrust evident. This wasn't normal. She hadn't been brought food like this before—certainly not with such care. Was this another one of Kael's games?
"Why?" she asked, her tone sharp.
The wolf glanced toward the door, as if making sure no one else was listening. "Because the Alpha ordered it," he said simply. "He wants to make sure you're...comfortable."
Comfortable? The word grated on her nerves. She was a prisoner, locked in a cell, and now Kael wanted her to be comfortable?
"I don't want his food," Lyra said coldly.
The young wolf hesitated again, his gaze flicking to the tray in his hands. "He won't take no for an answer."
Lyra glared at him, but after a long pause, she reached for the tray. She wasn't in a position to refuse food, even if it came from Kael. She had to survive, at least long enough to figure out a way out of this.
The wolf handed her the tray before turning to leave, but just as he reached the door, he stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. "Be careful," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.
Lyra frowned, watching as he slipped out of the cell, the door closing softly behind him.
Be careful?
What had he meant by that? She could feel the unease settling in her chest, the weight of the warning hanging in the air. Something was shifting in the pack—something dangerous. And Lyra had a sinking feeling that she was at the center of it.