If she were his daughter, then she was leverage. A symbol. A secret. If she were an omega—if her scent meant what my body insisted it meant—then she was a weapon in a way the king’s court would never speak aloud. Omegas bent alphas. They could break bonds. They could create them. They could change the shape of a war without ever lifting a blade.
And the tower had opened for me.
That was the detail I couldn’t ignore.
My wrist mark throbbed under my bracer, a steady burn that had become background noise over the years. Here, in this room, it flared hotter, as if the tower recognized the leash and tested how far it could pull.
Thane shifted in front of me, a subtle movement that blocked my next step before I consciously took it. He slowly sheathed his sword, a move I wouldn’t approve of, but Thane went his own way. His posture had hardened, his shoulders squared as if he expected me to strike.
Not her.
Him.
The bond between us pulled taut. His agitation was like heat along my skin, storm pressure building under his ribs, the familiar edge of lightning trying to crawl out through his control. He had always run closer to his instincts than I did. It was part of what made him dangerous, and part of what made him loyal.
Right now, it made him defiant.
After a moment, when he determined I was going to let him take the lead, he faced her, softened his position, his shouldersrelaxing, and his hands opening in a welcoming gesture. The omega, Aveline, subtly appeared to ease and watch him warily.
“Aveline,” he said quietly, his voice shaped to soothe her even as his magic stirred. “We won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes flicked to him, then back to me, as if my silence were the sharper threat. She swallowed, throat working hard. The scent in the room shifted with her fear, warming, thickening, and my body responded immediately, muscles tightening, breath going shallow.
I despised that.
I had survived torture. I had survived cages. I had survived the king’s dungeons and the slow, methodical work of men who wanted my screams more than my death. I had survived because I could keep my mind separate from my body.
And now a woman in a simple gown and a stone room was undoing that separation with a scent I couldn’t ignore.
Thane angled his body again, nudging me back without touching me. The gesture was small, but it meant everything.Move. Give her space. Stop pressing.
It infuriated me, but I listened.
Not because he was wrong. Because it meant I had lost control enough that he believed he needed to manage me.
I took one measured step back, then another, letting him guide me toward the doorway. My gaze remained on Aveline until the frame cut her from view. The moment she disappeared, the air thinned, but the scent lingered in my lungs as if it had been branded there.
The corridor outside her bedchamber was narrower than the chamber itself, stone curving close, the stairwell yawning just beyond. The tower’s hum was quieter out here, but not absent. It ran under the soles of my boots like a heartbeat.
Thane left the door ajar behind him. Not closed. Not sealed. A concession to her, to the idea that she wasn’t trapped with us.
He turned on me the moment we were out of her direct line of sight.
“What in the hells was that?” he snapped, voice low but hard.
I kept my face blank. “Interrogation.”
“That went beyond interrogation.” His eyes were too bright and his jaw was set. “You were looming over her like a damned executioner.”
“She said the king is her father.”
“She also said she’s been locked in that room for years,” he shot back. “Did you hear anything besides the wordking?”
I stepped closer, forcing him to yield space in the narrow corridor. The dominant part of me rose on instinct, not only because his tone challenged me but because my body was still full of her scent and wanted an outlet for the pressure.
Thane didn’t give an inch. That surprised me more than his anger.
“You’re protecting her,” I said.
