Ehlian swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry despite the humid air in the room. “There’s nothing you can do to make me yours.”
Hayce hummed, his doubt heavy and palpable.
Ehlian was growing sick of Hayce’s infuriating games.
“Stop playing your tricks on me.” Ehlian lowered his voice. “It won’t work.”
Hayce regarded him for a moment, expression unreadable. “If I wanted to break you, I wouldn’t need tricks.” Then, a beat later, his voice dropped lower. “I’ll do it… if that’s what you want.”
Ehlian’s eyes shifted to the band around Hayce’s wrist, tampered with and fake. His power was free to roam, to easily force Ehlian down to his knees at any minute of the day, make him undo the buttons of his trousers, make him swallow his hard—
Face burning, Ehlian swallowed thickly, his voice cracking. “Who in their right mind would want that?”
For a few breathless seconds, Hayce just stood there, his gaze scorching him. “I wonder about that too.”
Ehlian couldn’t meet his eyes. Thoughts burned through his mind, sharp, dizzying images he tried to push away.
Then, without a word, Hayce stepped past him and was gone.
Ehlian sucked in a quiet, shaky breath, frantically erasing and erasing every image from his mind.
He moved under the showerhead, letting the water rinse away the shampoo, the foam running over his heated face.
Chapter 7
If Ehlian had to rank the worst things about prison, the food would undoubtedly make it to the top of the list. It was nutritious, sure, but it either tasted like bland paper or wet sand overloaded with way too many spices. No one seemed to truly enjoy it. Eating was more of a chore, a monotonous, everyday task essential for survival.
When a sudden silence swept across the lounge, Ehlian looked up with a frown. Nearly every pair of eyes turned in the same direction. Even Grasson had stopped staring at him.
Ehlian followed their gaze. A thin, fragile omega stood hesitantly at the entrance, his eyes wide with fear at the unwanted attention. For a moment, it seemed he might flee back to his cell, but then his expression shifted into a hardened mask as he walked to the empty table Ehlian had once occupied in his first week. Something in the omega’s face reminded Ehlian painfully of himself, of the way he had sworn not to show fear or let anyone walk all over him.
The murmurs slowly returned, but the greedy eyes lingered—looking away and then looking back, wanting, considering, betting. Ehlian could see why. Despite the sunken face and fragile frame, the omega’s beauty still shone through. Even Ehlian looked pale beside him, and he had never once felt insecure about his looks.
He glanced at Hayce and froze.
His expression made Ehlian’s chest tighten for a heartbeat. He looked torn, weighing something, as though he was ready to let Ehlian go and replace him with the newcomer.
At the far end of the lounge, one alpha suddenly rose, striding toward the omega. He was abruptly stopped by Grasson, who flexed his muscles like a savage animal.
Low hisses flew between them, a tense push and pull as they fought for dominance.
A harsh metallic clang rang out, followed by a wet splatter as Grasson struck the alpha with a tray. Food went flying, splashing everywhere. Ehlian had barely a moment to process the situation before chaos erupted. In the blink of an eye, a wave of violence swept through the lounge.
Instinctively, Ehlian’s hand shot out toward Hayce, but he was quickly swept away by the melee—bodies crashing, misplaced kicks, and fists flying dangerously close.
He hit the floor hard, dread gripping his throat as he scrambled on his hands and knees, crawling through the chaos.
Finally, he stumbled into an open cell and slumped against the cold wall, his heart pounding, breaths coming in short, ragged pants.
“You think you can hide?”
Ehlian jolted from the wall, his chest tightening as he faced an alpha with a red scar across his face. The tag on his uniform read 665. Ehlian didn’t know his name, but he recognised him as a member of Grasson’s pack.
Ehlian stumbled backwards, retreating deeper into the small cell.
Big mistake.
Now, he had nowhere left to run.
