"Strong?" Cillian shakes his head. "That's not the point. You can't possibly expect a betrayed Omega to keep our secret. Themoment you challenge her, she'll run like a frightened doe from a hunter."
His words twist something uncomfortable in my chest. Challenge her. The phrase conjures images of Maya standing before me, purple hair cascading down her back, her intelligent eyes meeting mine without flinching despite her designation.
"You don't know what she's capable of," I say, more to myself than to him.
Cillian glances at me, something unreadable flickering across his features. "And you do?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us wants to address. I turn away, watching the palace rise in the distance, its spires gleaming in the afternoon sun.
The truth hits me with sudden clarity. I won't know what Maya is capable of until I push her to her breaking point. Until I see how far she'll bend before she snaps. It's a test I've never hesitated to apply to others—soldiers, political opponents, even my own brothers.
Why should she be any different?
"I'll find out," I say finally. "One way or another."
Cillian says nothing, but I can feel his disapproval radiating through our bond. He thinks I'm being reckless, putting everything at risk for an Omega I barely know. Maybe he's right.
But I can't shake the feeling that Maya Tantamount is different. Special. Worth the risk.
But I might just break her trying to prove it.
CHAPTER 5
Ares
The door’s wood grain becomes my entire world as I stand guard. Smooth in some places, rough in others, a physical barrier between me and the Omega whose scent lingers despite her absence from my sight. Cherry and champagne tickle my nostrils, testing my resolve with each breath.
She’s been quiet for seventeen minutes. Too quiet.
My ears strain for any rustle of movement—sheets shifting, floorboards creaking, the soft pad of feet. Nothing. The silence pulls at something primal inside me, an urgent need to verify her safety that claws at my chest. My hand twitches toward the doorknob three times before I force it back to my side.
Every fiber of my being screams to check on her, to confirm with my own eyes that she’s unharmed. It would take seconds—a quick turn of the knob, a glance inside, and I’d know.
But that’s not what she asked for. Not what we promised.
I pace four steps left, four steps right, before returning back to my position at the door. My jaw aches from clenching, muscles bunched tight across my shoulders. This shouldn’t be so difficult. She’s in a secured room, in a secured house. Nowindows to climb through, no enemies to fight. Just an Omega resting behind a closed door.
And yet my heart hammers like I’m in battle.
The faintest sound reaches me through the door—a soft sigh, maybe the turn of a page. My shoulders drop an inch in relief. She’s awake, reading perhaps, simply existing in her temporary sanctuary.
I settle my back against the wall opposite her door, crossing my arms. My instincts don’t like this arrangement, but they don’t have to. The Alpha in me wants to circle her, keep her in my sights, assert control over her safety. The man in me understands that sometimes protection means standing guard outside a closed door, respecting boundaries that I know are necessary.
For now, that will have to be enough.
Logan’s footsteps echo down the hallway before I catch his scent—bitter clove and entitlement. I’m already on my feet, planted firmly in front of Maya’s door before he rounds the corner.
His golden eyes narrow when he spots me, that predatory gaze sweeping over my stance. “Move.”
“Not happening.” I cross my arms, filling the space between him and the door with my body, almost relieved to have this confrontation as a distraction.
Logan’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his tanned skin. His hands curl into fists at his sides, and for a moment, I think he might actually try to fight me. The prince has always been quick to anger—quicker to violence—but I can see the effort he puts into controlling himself. He rolls his shoulders back, chin lifting as he forces his hands to relax.
His voice drops, aiming for reasonable. “I just want to talk to her.”
“Door’s not soundproof,” I cut him off. “Say what you need from right where you’re standing.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and dangerous. I watch emotions flicker across Logan’s face—rage, frustration, calculation. He’s not used to being denied.
