The cell was never truly dark.
The torches lining the dungeon corridor burned low, but their embers bled orange light through the bars, painting stripes across my skin. Rats scratched along the edges of the stones, and water dripped steadily somewhere far off, a rhythm of decay that mocked the stillness.
I lay with my back pressed against the wall, wounds raw, wrists blistered from silver cuffs. The shadows stirred faintly within me, restless after the trial. They had tasted blood. They wanted more.
But I was too tired to listen.
The silence broke with a soft scrape of boots.
Not Kaylan. She walked like thunder, each step heavy, purposeful.
This tread was softer. Languid. Confident.
The scent reached me before the man himself did: wolf musk and copper wine.
Lucian.
The door to my cell creaked open with deliberate slowness, and there he was — framed in the torchlight, his golden eyes gleaming like molten coins, his smile easy, careless, far too sharp. He leaned casually against the iron, twirling a key around his finger.
"Little shadow," he purred. "Did you miss me?"
I said nothing. My breath rasped in my chest, blood drying across my ribs, but my chin lifted all the same.
Lucian stepped inside, the iron shutting behind him with a click that sounded too much like a lock. He walked without hurry, each step echoing, until he stood close enough that his shadow spilled across me.
He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, tilting his head as though studying a wounded animal.
"You look exquisite like this," he murmured. "Bloodied. Beaten. Still breathing, somehow. Do you know how rare it is, to see prey survive Kaylan's little games?"
"Not prey," I rasped. My throat ached from the collar. "Never prey."
His grin widened, wolfish.
"Ah. That's what I like. The little snarl. The fight, even when you're cornered." His fingers brushed along the bars beside my head, casual, but every movement radiated possession. "That's why Marcus is watching you. That's why Kaylan despises you. And that's why…" His golden gaze sharpened. "…I want you."
The words hung in the cell, thick as smoke.
I forced a laugh, ragged and bitter. "You want a new toy."
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"Not a toy. A weapon. My weapon. I could free you, Aria. Break those chains. Take you out of this pit. You wouldn't need to bow to Marcus anymore. You'd bow to me."
The shadows inside me shivered with unease.
Lucian's hand reached for my face. I jerked back, pressing into the wall. His grin only grew.
"Still fighting," he said, low and delighted. "Do you know how many would beg for my leash? Do you know how many have broken under my hand, grateful for it?"
"I'm not them."
"No," he whispered, gaze devouring me. "You're not. You're Marcus's precious little stray, the one who dares snarl at the throne. But Marcus… he doesn't want you whole. He wants you shackled. Chained. His mercy is just a slow noose. I could offer you something else. Real freedom."
My heart thudded once, hard. Freedom. The word dug deep.
But Lucian's smile told me the cost before he said it.
"In exchange," he said softly, "you give yourself to me. Loyalty. Flesh. Blood. Soul. You'd be mine — utterly. I would break you, remake you, polish you into something Marcus could never touch. Something greater than the little pet he imagines."
His fingers brushed my jaw, trailing down to the collar biting my throat. The touch burned worse than silver.
I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to claw his golden eyes out. But my body trembled with exhaustion, my wounds screaming. If I moved too fast, I'd collapse before I reached him.
So I spoke instead.
"Freedom doesn't come with a new master. You're no better than Marcus."
Lucian stilled. His smile faltered — not vanishing, but curdling.
Then he laughed.
Low. Dark. Dangerous.
"Oh, I'm worse than Marcus," he said, teeth flashing. "Marcus binds you with laws, with chains, with his precious Crimson Court. Me? I don't believe in laws. I don't believe in chains. With me, there are only instincts. Hunger. Power. Blood."
His hand closed around my throat, sudden and iron-strong. The collar dug deeper, choking me.
My nails dug into his wrist, shadows flaring wild inside me. My vision blurred at the edges, darkness blooming.
"You'd like it," he whispered, voice silk over steel. "To stop pretending. To stop fighting. To let go and just be what you are. Not Marcus's little rebel. Not Kaylan's punching bag. My creature. My shadow."
The darkness inside me writhed.
His grip tightened. My lungs screamed.
"Choose," Lucian murmured, golden eyes blazing. "Kneel to me… or suffocate on Marcus's leash."
The shadows surged. For a heartbeat, I almost let them spill, almost let them tear him apart right there.
But no.
Not yet.
I forced the words past the chokehold.
"I'd… rather… die."
Lucian froze.
His golden eyes narrowed, hunger twisting into something uglier. Then, slowly, his grip loosened. I collapsed against the wall, gasping for air, my throat raw and burning.
He crouched lower, until his face was inches from mine. His smile had returned, but it was thinner now, edged like a knife.
"Good," he whispered. "Fight me. Refuse me. The more you resist, the sweeter it will be when you finally break."
He rose in one fluid motion, dusting his hands as though the conversation had been casual.
At the door, he paused, glancing back. His golden eyes gleamed like firelight on steel.
"Remember this, little shadow. Marcus may own your chains. But me?" His grin cut sharp. "I'll own you."
Then he was gone, the iron shutting with a clang that echoed through the dungeon.
I slumped back against the wall, trembling, every muscle burning.
The shadows inside me seethed.
Lucian thought I was his prey.
Marcus thought I was his pawn.
Kaylan thought I was her rival.
They were all wrong.
I was something else.
And one day soon, they'd see it.