The door didn't open again for a long time. When it finally did, Queen Alaria returned.
This time, she wasn't smiling.
Aphrodite remained on her knees exactly where she had been left—unmoving, obedient—but her fingers trembled slightly against the floor, a quiet betrayal of the pain settling into her body.
"Still here," Alaria said softly.
Aphrodite swallowed before answering. "Yes… your majesty."
Her voice was steady—but not untouched.
Alaria stepped closer, her gaze sharpening as she studied her. "You're quiet," she said. "Too quiet."
Silence stretched.
"Most would cry by now."
Aphrodite lowered her eyes, her chest rising a little slower this time. "I'm… fine."
The hesitation was small. But it was there. And it was enough.
Alaria moved suddenly, gripping Aphrodite's arm and dragging her to her feet. The movement forced a sharp breath from her lips, pain flaring instantly.
"Fine?" Alaria repeated.
She didn't pull away. Didn't fight. But her body tensed.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
She felt it coming.
Alaria's grip tightened—and then twisted.
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
This time— Aphrodite gasped.
It slipped out before she could stop it.
Her knees buckled, her body faltering as the pain surged through her arm, hot and disorienting.
But she didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
Her breathing turned uneven, shallow, as she fought to keep control.
Alaria's eyes narrowed. "You feel that," she said.
Aphrodite nodded, barely. "Yes…"
Her voice was quieter now.
Strained.
"Then react."
Aphrodite squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, steadying herself against the wave of pain.
"I… am."
Another strike came—harder—throwing her back into the wall.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs.
She slid down slightly before catching herself, one hand bracing against the stone, her breath shaking now despite her efforts to steady it.
It hurt.
It really hurt.
But she forced herself to stand straighter.
Forced her expression to settle.
Forced the tears burning in her eyes to stay exactly where they were.
Alaria watched her closely now.
Waiting.
Expecting.
Wanting her to break.
"You should be afraid," she said.
Aphrodite lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes weren't empty.
They weren't cold.
They were bright—
glassy with unshed tears, flickering with something fragile and human.
"I am," she admitted softly.
A pause.
Her breath hitched—just slightly.
"But I'm still here."
That—
was different.
Not defiance.
Not submission.
Something in between.
Something real.
And somehow—
that was worse.
Elsewhere in the castle—
Nikklaus stopped.
Something twisted sharply in his chest.
His breath caught—not from pain, but from something deeper, something instinctive that didn't ask permission.
His wolf stirred instantly.
That's her.
Nikklaus frowned, his body already tense. "Something's wrong."
Then go.
He didn't argue this time.
He moved.
The halls blurred past him, his steps faster now, sharper, driven by something he couldn't ignore anymore.
That pull—
stronger than before.
Clear.
Urgent.
It led him straight to her door.
He didn't hesitate.
He pushed it open.
The sound cut through the room.
Alaria turned first.
Aphrodite didn't.
Not right away.
She was too focused on steadying her breath, on holding herself together.
Then she felt him.
Slowly—
she looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time—
something in her cracked.
Not breaking.
But shifting.
Relief.
Confusion.
Something she didn't understand.
Nikklaus saw it.
All of it.
The tension in her body.
The way she held herself together by force alone.
The tears she refused to let fall.
Something dark moved behind his eyes.
"She's still standing," he said quietly.
And this time—
it didn't sound like observation.
It sounded like a warning.
The room stayed quiet for an unknown stretch of time before Alaria finally spoke.
"Why are you here… boy?" she asked, her tone light—but edged.
Nikklaus didn't move immediately. His gaze flicked once more to Aphrodite before returning to the queen.
"I know it's not my place," he said calmly, "but this seems… excessive."
Alaria laughed softly.
"Excessive?" she repeated. "King Nikklaus, I'm doing everyone a favor."
She gestured lightly toward Aphrodite.
"She is nothing more than a peasant. We were generous enough to raise her as something more—but when someone forgets their place…"
Her smile sharpened.
"We remind them."
Silence followed.
Nikklaus didn't react—not outwardly.
But something in his posture shifted. Subtle. Controlled.
Dangerous.
"You're right," he said after a moment. "It isn't my place."
His tone was neutral.
Too neutral.
"I don't concern myself with matters that don't affect me."
His eyes flicked once more to Aphrodite.
Brief.
Unreadable.
Then he turned.
"I'll take my leave."
Inside his mind—
his wolf snarled.
You're walking away?
Nikklaus's jaw tightened as he stepped into the corridor.
They're hurting her.
"I know."
Then do something.
A pause.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Not yet."
His voice was low. Controlled.
Calculated.
"If I act now, I expose everything."
His wolf growled, restless.
And if you wait?
Nikklaus didn't stop walking.
"Then when I do act…"
A faint, dangerous edge slipped into his tone.
"…no one will see it coming."
He didn't look back.
But he didn't forget what he saw.
How much more can Aphrodite take before she stops enduring… and starts changing?
Is Nikklaus truly walking away… or is he setting something far more dangerous in motion?
And when he finally acts… who will he protect—and who will he destroy?