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He holds me for one more agonizing moment before shoving my face away with such force I sway and nearly fall over. I catch myself on the edge of the table, raising a shaking hand to my throbbing jaw, as though hiding it will keep him away.

I don’t look away. I can’t. Prey instinct won’t let me take my eyes off the predator, even as he backs away, his body vibrating with aggression.

My jaw screams in pain. My muscles are locked up. The rest of me trembles so violently, I’m sure I’ll shatter into a million pieces.

I wait for someone—anyone—to say something to Silas.

No one does.

Silas falls back into his chair, snatching the bacon he tossed aside. Calmly, he pops it in his mouth and hums while he chews.

Vae cuts into a sausage—his cutlery scratches against the china.

Cage refills his juice.

A clock ticks somewhere down the hall.

My jaw screams in agony.

They’re calm, like this is just a normal morning. My stomach drops. Maybe, for them, it is.

Silas’s words play through my mind over and over, until my lungs ache from holding back my screams. They just punished me in the worst possible way. And they don’t even realize it.

My Bond with Caelan is my only saving grace. By keeping me away from him, they’re taking away the only thing keeping me steady. My only anchor in this prison.

Even the Bond feels like it’s rebelling against Silas’s rules.

The silver thread pulses and spins, like a spitting, hissing cat. It’s furious. A feral animal rattling the bars of its cage, indignant with rage and disbelief.

Silas’s rules are an attempt to carve Caelan out of me.

I sit silently, letting my tears fall, while shame heats my cheeks. I have no idea how much time passes. That disconnected feeling is back again, despair and heartache and fear are the only things tethering me to reality.

I think I might float away. Maybe I should.

“Alright then.”

I flinch so hard at the sound of Vaelenor’s voice that my chair screeches across the floor.

“Cage will show you to the kitchen. You’ll start your work there today. Tonight we’ll try to get some clear answers out of you, and maybe you can eat dinner. Hopefully, a day of rigorous work on an empty stomach will make you a bit more amenable to telling the truth.”

He smirks. “I’ve heard hunger really does wonders for honesty.”

The tears won’t stop, and I don’t even try to stem the flow.

A day without food? Doesn’t he realize I’ve barely been fed since they brought me here?

Half a piece of toast isn’t enough to keep a child alive, let alone an adult female. My Omega lifts an exhausted head in confusion.

Aren’t Alphas supposed to protect Omegas? Aren’t they supposed to keep us safe?

Maybe he doesn’t know.

The argument is weak, but my Omega wants to come up with a rational explanation. One that will make this make sense.

What is wrong with me?

Why do all those who are supposed to protect me hurt me instead? Is it really so easy to fight your own biology?