Ruby's POV
"You see, Ruby," Zaliver's voice cut through the tense silence, calm but charged with certainty, "even if you somehow got past the doors, guards, cameras, and every inch of this place, you still wouldn't make it off this island without me knowing."
He moved toward me with measured steps, his towering presence swallowing the distance between us. I didn't flinch, but every part of me felt the press of invisible chains tightening around my limbs.
When he was close enough, he gently took the phone from my hand. His fingers brushed mine, too soft for someone so dangerous. He glanced down at the screen, then back at me. But I refused to meet his eyes. I just stared past him, through him, as if clinging to the illusion of freedom would make it real.
There was no escaping this place.
No loopholes, no weak spots.
I was caged. Completely.
Forever?
No no, I couldn't accept that. There had to be a way out. My gaze shifted back to Zaliver, who was now typing something into his phone, his expression tightening with annoyance. When he caught me watching him, his brow rose.
I stayed silent, but my mind spun faster than ever. There was water, tools, a working pack system… This wasn't just a hideout. This place was designed for long-term living. For a community. Last I heard, the Bermuda Triangle was a cursed zone untouched by human governments, left alone for being too strange. But if he had built a base here, kidnapped women from all over the world, then he must've found a way in and out regularly.
And his phone if it worked, it meant he'd figured out how to get technology functioning in a place everyone else believed was disconnected from the world.
I narrowed my eyes, studying him. "You've built a functioning society here, in a place the rest of the world ignores," I said, steady and clear.
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. There was a reason I'd graduated top of my class brains were a weapon too. And people always underestimated girls who weren't tiny and delicate. Big mistake.
"My, my," he said slowly, lips quirking with amusement. "You are clever. And here I thought I'd have to explain everything to you."
I hated how handsome he looked when he was being smug. Even when he was rude, my wolf didn't want to snap at him she leaned closer. I clenched my jaw and looked away. It wasn't fair that he held all the power. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally supernaturally.
"So you have a pack," I asked, trying to piece it all together. "And you're their alpha? What's life like in the Bermuda Triangle? How did I even get from Washington D.C. to here?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he started moving around the room, picking things up, setting them back down in a way that almost looked absent-minded. I walked over to the bed and sat down. When he noticed, he paused, like he was waiting to see if I'd try something.
Then he spoke, pride woven into every word.
"Yes, I have a pack. And though I rank much higher than a typical alpha, I still carry out the responsibilities of one. Every pack answers to me, whether they realize it or not." His lips curled into a wicked smile. "I'm the Alpha of Alphas."
A strange, hot thrill ran through me. Something about the way he claimed it like the world bent at his feet sent shivers down my spine. It was attractive in a terrifying way. But power like that didn't come free. No one ruled without paying a price.
What did it cost him to gain this kind of control?
He walked over to one of the large couches and sank into it, resting his hands on his thighs.
"After some… empty years, I decided to create my own pack while still leading the others from afar," he said like it was the most normal thing in the world. "This island was the perfect place. Setting up a force field? Barely an inconvenience."
Empty years?
I tilted my head, heart thudding faster. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties maybe twenty-five but there was no way that was right. The name Zephyros had been whispered for centuries.
"H-How old are you exactly, Zaliver?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
He looked up at me sharply, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Does it matter?"
I shook my head quickly, biting back my nerves. Maybe it didn't. But deep down, I felt like it did. Werewolves didn't live forever we just aged slowly. Still, there had to be a limit. And if his years stretched far beyond mine, what would that mean for us? Would he mourn me when I died? Would he forget me? Move on?
The idea made my chest ache.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose strands that constantly fell over his forehead. For a moment, he looked… human. Young. Frustrated. Like someone who had been carrying the weight of the world too long and was tired of pretending it didn't crush him.
"I don't know when I was born," he said at last, voice lower now. "The first years of my life are a blur. I don't remember a damn thing before a certain point."
I watched him carefully, sensing something off. My gut twisted. He was lying. Or maybe only telling half the truth. But I didn't push.
"I'm old… just not that old," he muttered. "Around six hundred years."
My eyes widened. Six hundred?
I shot to my feet, stunned, and pointed a trembling finger at him. "Six hundred?!"
How the hell was I supposed to process that?
The man who kidnapped me, who claimed me, who spoke like he owned the very laws of nature… wasn't just powerful. He was ancient.
"You pedo-bear! Get away from me, you creep!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the cold walls like a wild, feral thing trying to claw its way out of a cage.
Zaliver didn't even flinch. He rose from his seat with that same slow, deliberate dominance that always made the air feel thinner. In a flash, he was in front of me, grabbing my wrist. My heart stalled. Then, without warning, he pressed my hand against his bare abdomen.
"Does this feel like a damn beer belly to you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
I froze, palm flat against hard muscle and warm skin. Nope, definitely not a beer belly. It was all toned strength, heat, and primal power under my fingers. I shook my head, cheeks burning, afraid that if I moved even a twitch he'd shift his view of me from mate to hormonal teenage molester. Not that I wasn't already regretting that outburst.
He let go of me and took a step back, eyes burning with irritation. Yeesh, someone had a soft spot for their age.
"Sorry," I muttered, finally realizing how immature I'd sounded. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to summon some dignity.
"No more questions," he said, voice clipped. "Now, do you want to sit here sulking all day, or do you want to see your new home?"
The smugness dripping from his tone made me scowl. He knew I was trapped here. He knew I had no real choice, and he clearly enjoyed rubbing that in.
"Fine," I mumbled, trailing after him as he led the way out the door. I made a conscious effort not to stare at the way those black jeans hugged his hips and oh goddess, focus.
As we walked down the hall, I bit my lip, debating whether to say something or just stay quiet. Curiosity and maybe stubbornness won.
"Hey," I called out, "what exactly do you plan to do with me now that I'm here? I've got college plans, y'know. I don't intend on being stuck here forever."
He stopped and turned slowly, looking back at me like I was a fly buzzing around his head.
"I know, I know," I said quickly, throwing up air quotes. "'You're not leaving, blah blah blah.' Doesn't mean I agree." I added a mock eye-roll just to annoy him.
He didn't take the bait.
"How old are you?" he asked instead.
"Eighteen," I said sharply, arms crossing again. "Why?"
His expression faltered for a fraction of a second, just enough for me to see it. Disappointment. Disapproval? I didn't like it either way.
"You're young. You're not going to college," he said bluntly, as if the matter was settled.
What?
"Wait. Wait! Hold up!" I darted in front of him. "What do you mean I'm not going to college? Last time I checked, I didn't need your permission to live my life. Eighteen means I'm legally an adult."
My voice was rising with every word. Who the hell did he think he was?
The male who will shape our future, my wolf whispered, purring at the back of my mind.
Traitor.
Shut up, I snapped inwardly.
"We have colleges here," Zaliver said coolly. "But since there are men, you aren't going. And you won't need to work for anything anyway."
He tried to move past me again, but I stood my ground, jaw clenched.
"Why does it matter if there are guys? I'm not going to stay in this place forever, and I do need to work. You think I'm just gonna sit around all day doing nothing? Is that really what you expect of me?"
And honestly... yeah, that did sound kind of nice having everything taken care of, not having to stress about money or bills. But at what cost? My freedom? My pride?
There's nothing wrong with being someone's partner or even staying home but that had to be my choice, not his.
"Look," I said, voice softening just a little, "I don't know what kind of twisted version of this mate bond you're aiming for, but let me tell you what I do know. You said you weren't going to mark me. That's a rejection, plain and simple. And I'm not going to live with someone who doesn't even want me."
My throat tightened with the words. I curled my hands into fists, trying not to let the hurt show on my face. It was one thing to be kidnapped, but to be unwanted too? That kind of pain festered.
He lifted his head, eyes going skyward, and let out a deep, exasperated sigh. I found myself staring at the strong column of his throat, smooth and begging to be nipped. My gums tingled, the primal urge to claim humming just under my skin.
I licked my teeth, trying to calm myself down. This wasn't the time.
Then our eyes locked his stormy blue, mine a stubborn brown and something shifted in the air between us. Heat crawled over my skin like a phantom caress. My face, my arms, my back all of it felt like it was being brushed by warm hands. It wasn't invasive. It was... intimate.
I shivered. My breath hitched.
He hadn't touched me again, not physically. But somehow, I knew it was him. That teasing look in his eyes, the way he tilted his head slightly he was doing this.
My eyes widened, lips parting slightly. He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath brushing against my skin. Whatever magic was between us tilted my chin up toward his.
"Let me make one thing very clear to you, Ruby," he whispered, voice low and raw.
"You. Are. Mine. With or without the mark."
And then he smirked, the kind of smirk that made my heart leap and my pride want to slap it right off his perfect face.
The worst part?
Somewhere deep inside, despite everything I didn't hate it.