Kiera's POV
The room was too nice to be a prison.
I stood in the doorway, staring at the actual bed with its clean sheets, the window with real glass, the door to what looked like a private bathroom. After four days in a stone cell with nothing but a bucket and thin blanket, this felt like a palace.
It felt like a trap.
Why are you being kind? I asked suspiciously, not moving from the threshold.
Theron stood behind me, his presence warm at my back. I'm not kind.
This is kind compared to where I was.
This is practical. His voice was flat, emotionless. You look half-dead. If your sister's coming with proof, I need you alert enough to understand it.
I turned to face him, searching his expression for any hint of softness. Found none. The cold mask was back in place, as if the moment in the hallway when he'd held me while I cried had never happened.
But through the bond, I felt the lie. Felt his concern. His protectiveness. His wolf's desperate need to make sure I was safe and comfortable.
You're lying, I said quietly.
His jaw tightened. Excuse me?
I can feel you through the bond. You care whether I'm comfortable. Whether I'm safe. I stepped closer, watching his eyes flash gold. You can pretend all you want, but I know the truth.
The truth is you're my prisoner accused of murder, Theron said coldly. Don't mistake necessity for compassion.
But he didn't step back when I moved closer. Didn't break eye contact when the bond pulsed hot between us.
Get cleaned up, he ordered, his voice rough. I'll have food sent.
He turned to leave, and my hand shot out, catching his arm. The moment we touched, electricity cracked through both of us. Theron sucked in a sharp breath.
Thank you, I said softly. For believing me about Lyra. For moving me here. For... everything.
Something flickered in his silver eyes. Something warm and dangerous and quickly hidden.
Don't thank me yet, he said. We still have to survive the next forty-five hours.
He left, locking the door behind him.
I stood there for a moment, my hand still tingling where I'd touched him, before reality crashed back.
Someone wanted me dead. Someone powerful enough to walk through Blood Court without suspicion. And I was now in a bigger room with a window—more vulnerable than ever.
I checked the lock. Solid. Checked the window. Three stories up, no way to climb down without breaking my neck. The bathroom had no other exits.
This room was still a cage. Just a prettier one.
I used the bathroom—actual running water, I almost cried—and washed my face and hands. The mirror showed a stranger: hollow-eyed, too thin, bruised. Four days of imprisonment had aged me years.
But Lyra was alive. That was all that mattered.
A knock at the door made me jump.
Food delivery, a guard's voice called.
I opened the door a crack. A young guard stood there with a tray, looking nervous.
The King ordered dinner for the prisoner, he said, not meeting my eyes.
I took the tray carefully. Thank you.
He scurried away like I might bite him.
I set the tray on the small table by the window and lifted the cover. Real food. Roasted chicken, fresh bread, vegetables, even dessert. My stomach growled.
But I hesitated.
Someone's planning to kill you.
What if the food was poisoned? What if this was the attempt?
I stared at the meal, torn between hunger and paranoia.
Another knock. Harder this time.
I opened the door and froze.
Theron stood there holding another tray.
Why do you have food? I asked, confused.
Because I'm eating with you. He walked past me into the room like he owned it. Which, technically, he did. Move.
I stared as he set his tray next to mine, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
You're... eating dinner with me?
I don't trust the servants not to poison you, he said bluntly. So I brought my own meal from the same kitchen. Same dishes. If someone tampered with the food, we'll both die.
My heart did something complicated in my chest.
That's not very practical, I said quietly.
No. It's not. His eyes met mine. Sit down, Kiera.
I sat.
We ate in tense silence. Every time I glanced up, I found him watching me. Every time he looked away, I studied him—the hard line of his jaw, the way his shoulders filled the chair, the controlled grace in every movement.
He was beautiful in a dangerous way. Like a blade perfectly forged for killing.
And he was my mate.
The thought made my hands shake.
Do you feel it? I asked suddenly. The bond?
Theron's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He set it down carefully.
Yes.
Just that. One word. But the weight behind it could have crushed mountains.
It's stronger than what I had with Damien, I continued, needing to say it out loud. With Damien, the bond felt... surface level. Like it sat on top of my skin. But with you—
It goes bone deep, Theron finished quietly.
Yes. I looked up and found him staring at me with an intensity that stole my breath. How is that possible?
I don't know. His hand clenched into a fist on the table. But I'm going to find out.
The bond flared between us, hot and bright and demanding. I felt his need—the same desperate pull I was fighting. The urge to touch, to claim, to complete what fate had started.
This is dangerous, I whispered.
I know.
You're the Alpha King. I'm your prisoner.
I know.
If your court finds out
They already know. Theron's voice was rough. Selene saw us. By morning, every wolf in this fortress will know I'm bonded to the mate-murderer.
I flinched at the title.
I'm sorry, I said. I'm destroying your reputation just by existing.
My reputation was built on fear and blood. It can survive a scandal. His silver eyes held mine. The question is whether you can survive the next forty-four hours.
Do you really think someone will try to kill me here? In your fortress?
I think someone already has. Theron pushed back from the table and stood. I need to go. Triple the guards. Set traps. Figure out who wants you dead before they succeed.
He headed for the door, and panic flared in my chest.
Wait
He stopped, hand on the doorknob.
Will you come back? I hated how small my voice sounded. Or am I alone tonight?
Theron turned slowly. The look in his eyes made my breath catch—hunger and conflict and something that looked like torture.
I'll be right outside your door, he said quietly. All night. If you need anything—
You'll be there.
Yes.
Something passed between us. A promise. An understanding.
He left, but I heard him speak to guards in the hallway. Heard him giving orders in that cold command voice. Then silence.
I pressed my hand against the door, feeling his presence on the other side through the bond.
He was keeping guard himself. The Alpha King, standing watch over a prisoner.
For me.
I'd just turned away from the door when I heard it—a soft scraping sound from the window.
My blood went cold.
I spun around and my heart stopped.
A shadow moved outside the glass. Three stories up. Impossible unless—
The window exploded inward in a shower of glass.
A figure in black dropped into my room, blade flashing silver in the moonlight.
I opened my mouth to scream, but the assassin was faster.
A hand clamped over my mouth. A blade pressed against my throat.
Quiet, a female voice hissed in my ear. Or you die before the King breaks down that door.
Through the bond, I felt Theron's alarm—he'd heard the glass breaking.
KIERA! His roar shook the walls.
The door rattled as he tried the lock.
The assassin pressed the blade harder. I felt blood trickle down my neck.
Tell him you're fine, she ordered. Tell him it was an accident. One word wrong and I slit your throat.
The door was shaking now. Theron was going to break it down in seconds.
But the blade was at my jugular. One slice and I'd bleed out before he reached me.
The assassin leaned close, and I caught a glimpse of her face in the moonlight.
Beautiful. Familiar.
Selene.
Now, she whispered. Lie to your mate. Or die.