Sage's Point of View
Dante leads me away from Kael's chambers through hallways that seem to go on forever.
My head is spinning. Kael touched my face like he owned me. His eyes were inhuman and intense and filled with something that looked like hunger. Then Dante appeared and pulled me away before anything else could happen.
Now I'm being taken to rooms that belong to me. Rooms I didn't ask for. Rooms that someone prepared specifically for my arrival.
"These are your chambers," Dante says, opening a set of ornate doors. "The King wanted you to be comfortable."
The King wanted me to be comfortable.
I step inside and my breath catches.
The room is massive. There's a fireplace with real flames. A bed that's bigger than my entire basement apartment. Windows that overlook mountains for miles in every direction. Everything is beautiful in a way that feels impossible for someone like me.
"There's a closet through here," Dante says, leading me deeper into the space. "And the bathroom has everything you might need."
I open the closet door and stop moving completely.
It's full of clothes.
Not just any clothes. Clothes in my size. Dresses that would fit my frame perfectly. Shoes that match my feet. Even undergarments. Everything I could possibly need is here, arranged like someone carefully selected each piece.
Someone did.
"How did he know?" I whisper.
"Know what?" Dante asks, but he already knows what I'm asking.
"My size. My style. My..." I gesture helplessly at the clothes. "Everything."
Dante's expression is careful. "The King has resources. He knew you were in the human city. He knew where you worked. He knew what you needed before you even called that number."
My hands are shaking.
"You're telling me he was watching me?"
"I'm telling you the King doesn't leave things to chance," Dante says gently. "When he decides something matters, he prepares for it. He prepares completely."
I turn away from the closet and look at the room again. The luxury. The planning. The absolute control of every detail.
He didn't just find me in that bar. He was looking for me. He's been looking for me. And he knew exactly what he would find before he ever walked through those doors.
"Why?" I ask Dante. "Why would an Alpha King search for a rejected Omega? I'm not special. I'm not powerful. I'm broken."
Dante moves toward the door. "That's a question for him," he says. "Rest. You've had a long journey. When you're ready, someone will come for you."
He leaves before I can ask anything else.
I'm alone in a room that costs more than I could earn in a lifetime. I'm wearing clothes I stole from a human store six months ago. I'm standing in luxury that was prepared for me by someone who was planning my arrival before I even knew I was running.
The emotional whiplash is too much.
I fall onto the bed and I don't mean to cry, but I do. I cry for the girl in the white dress who believed in Cohen. I cry for the six months of hiding. I cry for the confusion of being found by someone so powerful. I cry because I don't understand why any of this is happening.
Eventually, exhaustion wins.
My eyes close and I'm pulled under into sleep so deep it feels like drowning.
The dreams come immediately.
I'm back in the mating ceremony. I'm wearing the white dress. Cohen's hand is warm on mine. But then his grip tightens and his eyes go cold. He's pulling me toward him and whispering words that taste like poison.
Weak. Broken. Unworthy.
He throws me to the ground and the marble floor rushes up to meet me. I hit it hard enough that something inside me breaks. My wolf screams. The pack gasps. My mother is screaming my name.
No one helps me.
Everyone just walks away.
I'm running through pack territory trying to escape but my legs are too slow. My body is too weak. The rejection bond is tearing me apart from the inside. My wolf is dying. Everything hurts.
I wake gasping.
The room is dark. The fire has burned down to embers. I can't see anything clearly but I know immediately that something is wrong because I can feel eyes on me.
I'm not alone.
My wolf goes rigid inside my chest. Not in fear. In recognition.
"Don't move," a voice says from the darkness. Kael's voice. Low and careful like he's approaching an injured animal.
I freeze.
There's a sound of footsteps and then a chair scrapes against the floor. He's sitting down. He's been sitting in this darkness watching me sleep.
"How long have you been here?" I whisper.
"Since you arrived," he says. "I wanted to make sure you were safe."
"By watching me sleep?"
"Yes."
There's no apology in his voice. No shame. Just fact. He watched me sleep like that's a normal thing to do. Like he has the right to watch me without my permission.
"You planned all of this," I say, and it's not a question anymore. "The clothes. The rooms. Me calling that number. All of it."
"Not all of it," Kael says. "Some of it was fate. The Moon Goddess has been planning this longer than either of us have been alive. I just helped fate along."
"That's not how consent works," I say, but my voice is small and uncertain.
"I know," he says. "But I'm not asking for your permission to claim what's mine."
The darkness feels suffocating now. He's somewhere in this room with me and I can't see him. I can only hear his voice and feel his presence like a physical weight on my chest.
"I'm not yours," I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel.
"Yes, you are," Kael says. And then I hear him move. The sound of him standing. Of him walking toward the bed. "The moment I saw you in that bar, you became mine. The moment you called that number, you confirmed it. And the moment you stepped out of that car, you sealed it."
I sit up in bed. I can see him now as my eyes adjust to the darkness. He's standing at the edge of the mattress looking down at me like I'm the most important thing he's ever seen.
"What do you want from me?" I ask again, the same question I asked in his chambers.
"Everything," he says. And then he moves faster than I can track. He's on the bed beside me before I can even breathe. His hand finds my face in the darkness. His thumb traces my cheekbone gently despite the intensity in his eyes.
"I want your mind," he says quietly. "I want your strategy. I want your strength hidden inside that broken heart. I want to be the reason you stop running."
"And if I want to run?" I ask.
His hand tightens on my face. Not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough that I understand he's serious.
"Then I'll catch you," he says. "Every single time. I'll spend the rest of my life catching you until you understand that there's nowhere to run from me."
He leans down and his mouth finds mine in the darkness.
And I make a choice.
I don't pull away.