The stronghold kingdom was a prison of open spaces.
No chains bound him, no one struck him, but the walls themselves seemed to breathe with quiet danger.
And the eyes.
They followed him everywhere.
Guards, servants, warriors—everywhere Elias went, he felt their stares. Some were indifferent, others curious, but a few held something darker. Something watchful, as if waiting for the inevitable.
He would not last.
That was the unspoken truth that lingered in every glance. He was just another Omega, and all the others before him had perished.
Yet, days passed.
He was not harmed. Not touched. Not acknowledged.
He ate in silence. He wandered the halls cautiously, testing the limits of his freedom. No one stopped him, but no one spoke to him either. It was as if he were a ghost, already forgotten.
And the Alpha never summoned him.
A week passed.
On the seventh day, the realization struck Elias like a blade to the chest.
He was still alive.
It wasn't until that morning—when Caidren finally laid eyes on him again—that Elias saw the faintest flicker of something in the Alpha's gaze.
Not interest. Not intrigue.
But mild surprise.
As if even Caidren himself had expected Elias to be dead by now.
---
Elias had begun to believe he had faded into the background, just another shadow in the stronghold.
He had heard the whispers. He had felt the stares. And yet, the Alpha had done nothing.
Until now.
The summons came swiftly. Two guards appeared at his chamber door, their expressions unreadable as they uttered a single command:
"The Alpha requests your presence."
Elias' heart lurched.
This was it.
This was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment when the monster would finally decide his fate.
He steadied himself and followed in silence.
The walk through the fortress was long, the air thick with unspoken tension. Warriors paused in their duties to watch as he passed, some with amusement, others with curiosity. No one had expected him to last this long.
Now they were all waiting to see if he would leave this meeting alive.
The guards led him into the great hall—a cavernous space of dark stone, flickering torchlight, and the unmistakable scent of steel and blood.
And at the far end, seated in a massive chair of carved obsidian, was Alpha Caidren Thorne.
He looked exactly as Elias remembered—cold, unreadable, and utterly unconcerned with the life standing before him.
For a long moment, the Alpha said nothing.
He simply watched.
Elias did not lower his gaze.
He did not bow.
If this was to be his last day, he would not face it on his knees.
Finally, Caidren exhaled, a sound almost like amusement.
"Hmph," he murmured. "So. You're still breathing."
Elias swallowed hard. "I am."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the Alpha leaned forward.
His silver eyes, sharp as a blade, narrowed slightly. "Tell me, Omega… why?"
Elias' pulse thundered in his ears. "Why… what?"
Caidren's expression did not change. "Why are you still alive?"
The words sent a chill down Elias' spine.
Because even the Alpha himself had expected him to die.
And now, for the first time… he was curious.