The first shot wasn't a bullet.
That was the mistake.
A sleek black-tipped round hit Kaelen high on the shoulder with a dull thunk—like a syringe fired from a rifle.
The camera blinked red.
A "probe." A "compliance tool." Words that made violence sound like paperwork.
Kaelen didn't flinch.
Then the round hissed.
Dark fibers bloomed across his skin like ink in water—webbing, tightening, trying to teach his body what fear was.
His heat surged.
The fibers sizzled, burned away in seconds.
But the impact had already done its job.
A single bright line of blood slipped down his arm.
Hot.
The smell hit the apartment like a match.
Kaelen's pupils snapped thin. His breathing changed—not faster.
Different.
His gaze didn't go to the officer.
It went to Nora.
"They hurt me," he said.
Not complaint.
Not pain.
A request for permission.
Rix straightened from the shadows, hungry as a wolf hearing a scream.
Zane's posture altered by a fraction—cold gathering like armor.
Mercer's men raised rifles in unison, rehearsed, ready to record the moment the monster proved the story.
Kaelen took one step toward the crack of the door.
Mercer began, "Second—"
Nora moved before the word could become an order.
She stepped into Kaelen's path.
Heat rolled off him. Her skin prickled. Her lungs tightened like she'd walked too close to open flame.
Kaelen's gaze locked on her as if she were the only thing left in the room that had a name worth hearing.
Nora didn't answer with a speech.
She watched the officer's finger on the trigger.
Watched Mercer's eyes flick to the camera.
Watched the way the hallway leaned forward, waiting for Kaelen to explode so they could call it necessity.
Nora lifted her chin.
She didn't pay the expensive word.
Not Stay.
Not the one that would drive needles through her skull.
She chose a different blade—shorter, sharper, cleaner.
"Kneel," she said.
The word landed like gravity.
Kaelen froze.
The hallway froze.
Even Mercer's face shifted—surprise, quickly buried.
Kaelen's jaw clenched hard enough to grind teeth. His whole body trembled, violence straining for the leash. His hands flexed like they wanted to grab her and break the world at the same time.
Nora stepped closer—close enough that his heat tried to swallow her—and spoke the second half so only he could hear.
"Or you don't get to touch me."
Silence.
Not peace.
A vacuum.
For one perfect, brutal second, the building held its breath to see which hunger won.
Kaelen swallowed.
His shoulders shook.
And then—slowly, violently, like it cost him pride and blood—
he dropped to one knee.
Not loud.
But it hit the hallway like a shockwave.
A rifle dipped for half a heartbeat out of pure disbelief.
Somebody behind Mercer whispered, horrified, "He— he actually—"
Mercer cut the sound with a raised hand.
Rix made a low noise that was half purr, half growl—delighted and furious all at once.
Zane's eyes sharpened, and for the first time his expression wasn't clinical.
It was possessive.
Nora's vision flickered.
The price arrived late—like her body waited until the command landed to collect.
Ringing filled her ears.
Her stomach rolled.
Metal flooded her mouth.
She swallowed hard and refused to sway.
She would not give Mercer footage of weakness.
Kaelen's head bowed.
Not to the guns.
Not to the hallway.
To her.
Nora reached out and cupped his jaw—just for a second. Enough to anchor him. Enough to reward him. Enough to make the leash feel like choice, not punishment.
"Good," she whispered.
Kaelen shuddered like the word was water in a desert.
His hands hovered. Asking without daring.
Nora let her thumb brush the edge of his mouth—barely there, just enough to spark—then withdrew.
"Not yet," she said, quiet and lethal.
Kaelen's fingers curled into fists.
He stayed kneeling anyway.
Mercer took one step forward, careful, like approaching a live wire.
"Ms. Lin," he said, voice lower now, "step away."
Nora didn't move.
"No."
Mercer's gaze flicked to Kaelen's blood. To the scorched fibers. To the failed restraint.
Then back to Nora.
"You can control him," Mercer said.
Nora's smile was small. Sharp. "I can rule him."
Mercer's jaw tightened.
His fingers went to his earpiece.
He listened.
One second.
Two.
His expression didn't change—but his eyes cooled, like someone higher up had just granted permission to stop pretending.
He pressed the mic and spoke for the record.
"Confirm," Mercer said, flat and efficient. "The controller is her."
Nora's stomach dropped.
Kaelen's head snapped up—still on one knee, but suddenly lethal again.
Rix's smile disappeared.
Zane went perfectly still, a shadow deciding where to cut first.
Mercer continued into the mic, voice like a man ordering coffee.
"Escalate to secondary plan."
Nora's ears rang harder.
Her tongue tasted iron.
And then—down the hall—something clicked.
Not a gun.
A different mechanism.
Small. Patient.
Like a lock being prepared.
Nora caught it with the part of her brain that counted exits and lies.
Mercer lowered his hand and looked at Nora like she'd become a file.
"Ms. Lin," he said softly, "you're coming with us."
Kaelen's heat surged—an animal rising in his chest.
Nora didn't look away from Mercer.
She didn't beg.
She didn't threaten.
She gave Kaelen a place.
"Behind me," she said.
Kaelen—still on one knee—didn't rise.
Didn't strike.
Didn't slaughter.
He stayed.
And the hallway—full of tape and guns and procedure—learned something it hadn't planned to learn:
The monster wasn't the first problem.
The woman was.
Mercer's eyes flicked once to the camera, then back to Nora.
"Secondary plan," he said, not into the mic this time—into the space between them.
"As a courtesy," he added, almost polite again, "you'll feel a little dizzy."
Nora's blood went cold.
Because she understood what he'd just told her:
They weren't going to net the king.
They were going to remove the hand.
Nora inhaled slowly, kept her face calm, and smiled—small and sharp.
"Try it," she said.
And behind her, Kaelen stayed kneeling.
Like a promise.
Like a weapon waiting for a single word.