"I do not believe she has accepted their offer," he says. "Yet. But the pressure is significant. If she believes she has no other option—"
"She has options," I say, my voice hard. "She has me."
"Does she know that?"
The question hangs in the air.
Does she?
I told her I would provide for her. I told her I would protect her. I gave her a contract that wiped out her debt and secured her future.
But I did not tell her about the fated-mate bond.
I did not tell her that my biology has permanently anchored itself to hers.
I did not tell her that the thought of losing her is more terrifying than eight hundred years of stone-lock.
Because I am a coward.
Because I have spent centuries building walls around my heart, and I do not know how to dismantle them.
Because I am terrified that if I give her the full truth, she will run.
And now?
Now someone else is offering her an escape route.
And I do not know if she will take it.
"The bond makes betrayal impossible," I say. My voice is flat. "Biologically impossible. She cannot—"
"Can she not?" Kael interrupts quietly.
I stare at him.
"The fated-mate bond creates attraction," he continues. "Recognition. Compatibility. But it does not override survival instinct. If she believes her only choice is between betraying you or losing everything—"
"She would choose me."
"Would she?"
The doubt in his voice is a knife.
"She saved my life," I say. "She burned her own hands to neutralize a weapon designed to exterminate my entire species. She—"
"She also did not tell you about the collection agency," Kael says. "She did not come to you when they made contact. She kept it secret."
"Because she was afraid I would see her as weak."
"Or because she was considering their offer."
"No."
"Sir—"
"No." My voice drops to a growl. "I know her. I know what we are to each other. The bond—"
"The bond is three weeks old," Kael says. "Her debt is three years old. Which do you think weighs heavier?"
