Lycia sat on the edge of the bed, her body was tensed, her hands barely holding her body upright. She hadn't slept. The night had been long and restless, her mind replaying every horrifying detail of the battle she had witnessed, and every moment of Cove's transformation.
Her prison was even more unwelcoming as ever, the walls that were made of rough, unpolished stone, trapping her in their icy embrace, reminding her that she was nothing more than Cove's prisoner.
A small barred window high up let in faint light, casting eerie shadows on the disarranged bed she sat on.
The air inside smelled of moisture and decaying timber, reminding her how far she was from freedom.
She turned to the mirror looking at her reflection in the old, dust covered mirror across the room , which made her stomach twist.
She looked so unkept; her long hair tangled, her track suit wrinkled and stained with dirt and dried blood.
Dark circles hung under her eyes, making her look drained and weary. Her lips were cracked and dry, as if all the life had been sucked from them.
She looked at her reflection, barely recognizing the tired, worn out girl staring back at her.
She looked so scared, afraid, and vulnerable.
The memory of Cove's transformation into a werewolf haunted her; his body contorting, muscles stretching beneath his skin as fur surged over him like rolling storm clouds.
The sheer force of it had left her breathless, frozen in place as she watched the man who had captured her; the one she was already terrified of shift into something she only heard about in stories and never knew they existed.
And yet, despite the danger lurking beyond these walls, she couldn't shake the feeling that Cove had saved her for a reason.
"Why did he do it?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.
She thought back to the moment he had stepped between her and the enemy, his silver eyes burning with a fierce determination.
He had fought as if she mattered. It was a moment that had changed everything.
Her hands curled into the fabric of her track suit, gripping it tightly as if holding onto something solid would steady the whirlwind thoughts of thoughts inside her.
He hadn't hesitated. He didn't even think twice. He had fought as if her life was worth protecting.
It didn't make sense.
He was a beast. A warrior. A creature bred for battle, for war. Everything about him spoke of raw power, of something untamed and dangerous. He wasn't supposed to care. He wasn't supposed to protect.
And certainly not her.
Her breath came a little faster as she tried to make sense of it.
Cove was not human. He lived by different rules, followed different instincts. His world was one of dominance, survival, and blood. A human, weak, fragile, and powerless; should have meant nothing to him.
So why had he saved her?
She hugged her arms around herself, trying to shake the cold that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.
She should have been afraid. She had been afraid when she first saw him; his silver eyes sharp and piercing, his claws still stained with bottle. She should have felt terror knowing what he was capable of.
But she didn't.
Not now.
Instead, something else curled inside her, something unfamiliar and unsettling.
Curiosity.
She shouldn't be thinking about him. She shouldn't be wondering what had been behind his expression when he looked at her; when, just for a moment, there had been no battle, no war, just them.
She shouldn't remember the way his voice had softened when he spoke to her, even as chaos surrounded them. She shouldn't recall the way he moved—dangerous, yes, but with a kind of grace that was almost mesmerizing.
But she did.
Her hands trembled slightly as she buried her face against her knees.
A knock at the door made her flinch. The old wooden door creaked open, and a maid stepped inside, balancing a tray of food. Lycia lifted her gaze slowly, locking eyes with the woman.
Was she like him?
The question lodged itself in Lycia's mind, sending a fresh wave of unease through her. Was everyone here a werewolf, hidden beneath human skin, waiting for the moment they too would transform?
The maid set the tray down without a word, her movements careful and practiced. Lycia studied her face, searching for any sign, anything that might reveal the truth. But the woman only gave a small nod before retreating, the door clicking shut behind her.
Lycia exhaled slowly, her gaze shifting to the untouched meal. She didn't feel like eating. Her mind was still tangled in thoughts of Cove.
Maybe he wasn't all that bad.
The realization hit her unexpectedly, settling into the pit of her stomach like a weight. He had protected her. He hadn't hurt her. In a world where she was supposed to be nothing more than a prisoner, he had treated her differently.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
What was happening to her?
This wasn't just confusion anymore. It was something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name.
Because if she mattered to him… if he had risked everything for her, then what did that mean?
And worse…
what would it cost her heart if she started to care back?
Would she even survive it?