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He’s hit me before. He’s beaten me multiple times. But, he’s never lost control the way he did the other day. Something has him on edge, and I think I know what it might be.

Caelan.

The thought of my Alpha brings a soft smile to my lips.

I groan outloud. Not your Alpha, Idril, Fates.

Except… that feels untrue. Because Caelan feels like mine. The churning pool of silver in my chest that I still don’t quite understand is proof that something exists between us.

When I lose myself in memories of his arms around me, his hands cradling my face, his mouth on mine, the silver in my soul churns faster.

Like it wants him. Like it’s begging for him.

I don’t know how it works, what it is, or why it’s there, but I do know that he’ll be back for me.

A few days. That’s what he said.

It’s been three.

He made me a promise, and I believe him. Maybe that makes me naive, but if there’s one part of me I can never manage to force into submission, it’s hope. Hope that one day, things will change.

When I close my eyes, I can still see him as he was that night. There’s nothing soft about him. He looks made for war, and moves like he carries the weight of a thousand lifetimes on his shoulders.

He’s violence wrapped in sin. The sweetest ruin made manifest. And he touches me with the gentleness of a man holding something he’s terrified to crush.

I pull the sleeves of my cardigan over my hands nervously and begin another circuit around my room.

My thoughts won’t stop racing.

What if tonight’s the night?

The thought sends my heart galloping. The silver pool spins faster, like its responding to my excitement with anticipation of its own.

I stop at my balcony doors, watching the light fade over the horizon. Everything is strangely quiet outside. I haven’t seen any guards for the last two evenings. It’s not like I’m in a position to be paying attention to their rotations, but the fact that no one’s walking the perimeter like normal sends a sense of foreboding down my spine.

Now that I think about it… I haven’t heard boots clomping down the hall outside my room tonight as security does their rounds, either.

The foreboding grows, making my hands shake with anxiety. Something feels… off.

What if the guards are hiding somewhere on the property? What if Father somehow discovered that Caelan’s the one who broke in? What if he’s setting some kind of trap to catch him?

My mouth goes dry. He promised he’d be back, and I know as sure as I know my own name that he won’t break that promise.

Which means…

I have to warn him. I have to warn him before he makes it into the house. Convince him to wait a few days. Return for me when things die down.

Determination fills me. I swipe my book, taking it with me out to my balcony. My towel—which I’m pretending for my own sanity is actually a blanket—is still where I left it outside and I grab it, wrapping it around my shoulders as I curl up on the patio chair.

My plan is simple. I’ll stay outside. I’ll wait and watch for his arrival. I’ll warn him at the first sign that he’s returned. I’ll stay out all night if I have to.

Having a plan, even a simple one, soothes my anxiety. I flip open my book, deciding to read for a while, keep my mind busy so I don’t fall asleep.

It takes less than thirty minutes for me to realize that getting lost in one of my favorite stories tonight isn’t going to happen. No matter how hard I try to focus, my mind won’t let me. I groan in irritation when I find my eyes once again straying from the page and toward the tree line.

The wind rustles through the leaves. Giving up, I set my book on my lap, and let my gaze focus on the forest like it clearly wants to.

We are so isolated out here. Is our seclusion just another way for Father to keep me in my cage?