Alina's POV
My mind is screaming.
Kael is staring at me like he is trying to see through my skin. His eyes are burning and his body is tense like he is ready to move. The question hangs between us like a blade.
Who are you really?
I have maybe three seconds to decide if I lie or break. Three seconds to choose between telling him the truth and watching my entire revenge plan collapse, or maintaining the mask and hoping he believes me.
I choose the mask.
I let my hands shake harder. I let my breathing get ragged. I squeeze my eyes shut like I am remembering something traumatic and when I open them again, they are soft and full of unshed tears. The girl who just stood over three dead rogues with gold eyes blazing disappears completely.
She becomes the forgettable omega again.
"I was so scared," I whisper and my voice breaks perfectly. "They came through the window. I did not know what to do. I just grabbed the knife from the dinner table and when they came at me, I was so afraid that I just kept stabbing. I did not think. I just..."
I let the sentence die. Let him fill in the blanks with his own imagination. Fear makes people do things they would not normally do. Everyone knows that. A terrified girl with a knife. Desperation. Luck.
He studies me with those black eyes that seem to see everything. My heart is pounding so hard I think he can hear it. Every second that passes is a second where he might figure out that I am lying. Every second he looks at me is a second where he might recognize something.
I force myself to stay still. Force myself to show only fear and trauma. Force myself to be smaller.
Then something shifts in his expression.
The hardness softens slightly. The accusation fades. What replaces it is something I did not expect and definitely did not plan for.
Concern.
Pure, genuine, protective concern.
He takes a step closer and I have to force myself not to flinch away. His hands come up slowly like he does not want to startle me. When he touches my shoulder, it takes all my strength not to react.
His hands are strong enough to crush bone. I have seen what those hands can do. I have nightmares about those hands killing my family. But right now they are gentle. Careful. Like he is touching something fragile.
"Did they hurt you?" His voice is different now. Softer. Worried. The question is not accusatory anymore. It is protective.
I shake my head because I cannot speak. My throat is too tight and my chest is aching and something inside me is breaking that I do not want to acknowledge.
He checks my arms carefully, turning them to look for bite marks. He lifts my dress slightly to check my legs. Everything he does is clinical and respectful and absolutely devastating to my mission. He is treating me like I matter. Like I am someone worth protecting.
Like I am not invisible anymore.
His jaw tightens when he finds no injuries. Some of the tension leaves his body but it does not go far. It just transforms into a different kind of rage. Rage at the rogues for coming here. Rage that someone dared to target what is his.
"You will have personal guards from now on," he says and it is not a request. It is an order carved in stone. "My best warriors. You are not to go anywhere without them. You are not to leave this wing without my permission. Do you understand me?"
I nod because that is all I can do.
He calls for servants with a voice that makes them scramble to obey. He tells them to tend to my wounds, to bring clean clothes, to make sure I am comfortable. He actually uses the word comfortable when talking about my care.
Then he is gone, already barking orders about fortress security and guard rotations and making sure nothing like this ever happens again.
I am left standing in the Luna's wing with servants fussing over me and blood drying on my skin. And my entire plan is fracturing in ways I cannot control.
The servants lead me to the bathing room. They wash the blood away carefully, asking soft questions about whether I am hurt. I answer in whispers and let them believe I am traumatized. They bring me clean clothes and fresh bedding. They move around me like I am something precious that might break.
When they finally leave, I am alone for the first time since the attack.
I sit on the edge of my bed and let myself shake.
Not from fear of being discovered. Not from adrenaline. But from something else. Something worse. Something that tastes like betrayal and feels like drowning.
Kael Draven just protected me.
He checked for injuries with hands that were gentle. He ordered his best warriors to guard me. He made it clear that anyone who touches me has to answer to him.
He is starting to see me as someone worth protecting.
And that is the worst thing that could possibly happen.
My revenge plan requires Kael to remain the monster I remember. It requires him to be cold and ruthless and unfeeling. It requires me to hate him. If he keeps being kind, if he keeps looking at me like I matter, if he keeps protecting me like I am something he cares about, then what happens to my mission?
What happens to my hatred?
I pull out my hidden journal with shaking hands and write in the darkness. The code flows automatically because I have done this so many times.
"Three days. Three weeks of being invisible and then three days of changes. He looked at me during the fight. He came back to protect me. He checked my injuries like I was someone worth checking. His hands were gentle. His voice was worried. This was not the plan. He is supposed to be a monster. He is supposed to remain the monster so that I can destroy him without my heart breaking. But monsters do not check for injuries like they care if you are hurt. Monsters do not assign their best warriors to protect their bride. Monsters do not look at a forgettable omega like she suddenly matters."
I stop writing because my hand is shaking too much to continue.
The suppressants are still failing. My wolf is still prowling beneath my skin. But now there is something else underneath the wolf. Something human that I did not want to feel.
Something that feels dangerously like gratitude.
A knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. A warrior enters and introduces himself as one of my new personal guards. He is large and intimidating but his eyes are kind. He tells me that he and three others will rotate protection duty. That I should feel safe now.
Safe.
The word sits in my chest like poison.
I am not safe. I am in a fortress with the man who murdered my family. I am wearing a suppressant potion that is failing faster each day. I am developing feelings for my greatest enemy.
And now I have guards who will not let me leave without supervision.
I am less safe than I have ever been.
But Kael Draven does not know that. He looks at me and sees a bride who needs protecting. He looks at me and sees someone worth defending. He does not look at me and see the danger that I am.
He does not see me at all.
Except he kind of is starting to. After the attack, his eyes are sharper. His questions are harder. His interest is increasing instead of fading like I planned.
I watch my new guard stand in the corner of my room, vigilant and professional. I am trapped. Not in chains but in protection. Not by force but by concern.
This is so much worse than I expected.
The night stretches long and cold. I lie in bed thinking about Kael's hands checking my arms for injuries. Thinking about his voice asking if I was hurt. Thinking about the way he ordered his guards to keep me safe.
My wolf whimpers inside me because she knows the truth that my brain is still trying to deny.
I am starting to care about him.
And if I care about him, I cannot destroy him.
If I cannot destroy him, I cannot honor my family's memory.
And if I cannot honor my family, then what am I even doing here?