It has been even worse after he found out about the powers. I barely understand myself.
My fingers curl slightly against my arms as I think about how wrong it sounds to say in my mind. Magic. That was never supposed to be a part of me. I was just a shifter, albeit an Omega, but nothing more.
It’s not something I grew up with, and certainly not something I was trained for. It doesn’t fit neatly into the rules I’ve spent my entire life following, and now, he knows I have it. The thought alone puts me on edge.
Knowing him, information is leverage, and his having this on me puts the advantage straight into his hands.
I can only imagine how he must see me now…leverage, potentially a weapon, or maybe just another piece on the board to be moved at his will.
At best, he’ll tell his Alpha friends, and they’ll see me as an even bigger threat. A risk they’ll need to contain, as if Zane keeping me in house arrest isn’t bad enough.
No way. That’s not happening.
I refuse to let him or anyone else define me like that. After everything I’ve endured and everything I’m currently trying to do, I won’t let them reduce me to a problem to be solved.
Which is why I’ve been spending my time here doing the opposite of what he wants. If I can’t leave or act, then I’ll push. I’ll disrupt him in any way that I can because I refuse to sit here and accept this.
Turning slowly from the window, I glance over at Zane to find him sitting at the kitchen island again with his laptop open. His focus has been locked on whatever he’s working on to an almost eerie degree, and that control he has is infuriating to me.
Honestly, it’s a bit impressive, but I’m not telling him that part.
“Do you ever stop?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He doesn’t even look up from the screen. “No.”
Good…he’s still responsive.
“What are you even doing?” I push, strolling a bit more casually toward the kitchen like I’m not deliberately invading his space or disrupting him.
“I’m working.”
“On what?”
“Things that don’t concern you,” he murmurs, pretending that his complete attention is devoted to his screen.
“Sounds boring,” I say with a sigh, leaning back against the nearby countertop with my arms crossed.
Finally, he glances at me, but only for a beat, then he looks at the laptop again.
“Are you planning on giving me vague answers, or are you going to tell me something useful at some point?” I ask, purposely trying to sound a bit clueless. “You know, since you did talk like this is a collaborative effort before.”
Zane’s fingers pause briefly above the keyboard, then he sighs and continues typing. “I don’t owe you a briefing.”
“Maybe not in your eyes, but if you’re going to keep me here, you might as well make it interesting.”
Looking up slowly, his eyes meet mine as they narrow just enough for me to notice. “I’m not here to entertain you, and if I decide you don’t need to know something, then you don’t.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter. “This whole situation feels like some kind of weird power play.”
His gaze sharpens, clearly starting to let me under his skin. “It’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
He doesn’t answer. Of course not.
“You know,” I begin again, watching for every micro reaction from him, “for someone so concerned about strategy, you’re not doing a great job of keeping me in the dark.”
He exhales through his nose, long suffering. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark.”
