They were talking about my existence like I was a piece of stolen commercial property.
"If the tribunal issues a summons for a magical audit, they'll rip her out of Aldridge under the guise of council law," Chris said. "Once they see the silver lines of the Pack-Heart tether, all three of our families get implicated in an unauthorized neutral-zone bonding. It will be a continental bloodbath."
"We don't let the tribunal issue a summons," Hayes growled. "We stall the legal process. My father owes half the sitting council political favors. I'll leverage every one to keep her file at the bottom of their stack."
"You can't stall a Northern blood-claim indefinitely," Chris warned. "If the legal route fails, Trent will pivot to mercenaries. He'll try to extract her from neutral territory under the guise of reclaiming stolen pack property."
"Let him try," Tristan said. The charge in the air snapped. "I have Marcus tracking every registered and unregistered combat contractor operating in the city. If Trent hires outside muscle, we'll know their names and loadouts ten minutes before they step on campus."
"The perimeter holds," Hayes finalized, the crushing authority in his voice ending the debate. "She stays in the inner sanctum. The wards here are impenetrable. We control who has access to her from now on."
I lay frozen in the center of the bed, my heart hammering against the Pack-Heart lines.
They weren't just protecting me from Trent.
They were tracking a council envoy with illegal underworld surveillance. They were plotting manipulation against the highest political bodies in the shifter world. And they had relocated me to their inner sanctum under the guise of charitable protection, specifically to keep a rival dynasty from seizing the Pack-Heart asset for their own use.
I had traded the cold iron cage of my family's estate for a gilded one — built by three apex predators apparently willing to start a war to keep me in it.
And they hadn't told me a single word.
The illusion of safety that I'd felt during the stabilization crashed around me, revealing the iron bars bolted just beneath the warm surface.
I wasn't an equal partner in this tether.
I was just a different kind of asset.
15
WREN
The betrayal burned hot and sharp in my throat, cutting through the lingering warmth of the stabilization artifact humming in my chest.
I lay still in the center of the inner sanctum bed, staring at the dark canopy, listening as the hushed tactical voices in the adjoining sitting room finally faded into silence. The adrenaline had erased the exhaustion I'd felt an hour ago.
They're keeping you here. They're tracking a council envoy with underworld ghosts. They're building you a cage.
It didn't matter that the cage was built from protective pine and electric storm-scent. It didn't matter that their touch during the pulse-match had been the first genuinely gentle, unconditional physical contact I'd ever experienced from an alpha. They were still stripping my agency. Deciding what was best for me without asking — exactly the way Trent had decided what was best for his political career.
Just prettier packaging and nicer sheets.
I waited twenty more minutes.
When the rhythmic, heavy breathing of a sleeping alpha finally drifted from the sitting room, I moved.
I slid out of the bed in absolute silence — a skill two decades of trying to stay invisible in my father's estate had drilled into me. I pulled on my jeans and the dark turtleneck over Hayes's oversized t-shirt. My canvas duffel was by the door. I left it. The zipper would make noise, and I didn't care about the clothes.
I cracked the bedroom door an inch.
Hayes was asleep on the leather sofa, long legs hanging off the edge. Tristan was out cold in an armchair, head thrown back. Chris was gone — likely in his own warded room down the hall.
I slipped through the gap, holding my breath until my lungs burned, and padded across the persian carpet in my socks.
The inner sanctum door was designed to keep threats out, not trap compliant omegas inside. It unlocked with a quiet click.
I ran.
I didn't stop until the gothic stone of the pack house gave way to the lit center of campus. The freezing air hit my cheeks and felt incredible. No pine. No ozone. No amber. Just cold wind. Just freedom.
