Chapter 42

Esther’s POV

The hall outside Nicholas’s office smelled of cedar and iron, the scent of him. Even after six years, it still crawled under my skin. I kept telling myself I wasn’t here to plead or to crawl. I was here for Carl.

I paused before the huge carved doors, palms sweating despite the cold. Inside, the Alpha King would be hunched behind his desk, probably reading reports with the same grim focus he used to break me down. He’d be expecting weakness.

I tried to summon Sharon inside me, but only a faint stirring answered. It was a sigh, not a roar.

I pressed my lips together. This isn’t about you, Esther. This is about him.

Carl’s pale face swam before my eyes: the fevers, the tremors, the way his fingers clenched the sheets when another surge hit. He was slipping away. Dr. Reynold’s words—we’re running out of time—still pounded in my skull.

I knocked twice.

“Enter,” came his voice, low and dangerous, like a blade sliding free of its sheath.

I pushed the door open.

Nicholas sat behind the desk, sunlight slanting across his dark hair and hard jaw. His eyes flicked up, surprise flashing before it hardened into wariness.

“Esther.” His mouth curled around my name like it was forbidden fruit. “To what do I owe the honor?”

I closed the door behind me. “I wanted to speak with you. Privately.”

One eyebrow rose. “Kevin’s not here to hold your hand?”

I ignored the bait and crossed to the desk. “This is about… a medical matter.”

At the word medical his gaze sharpened, but he leaned back in his chair, feigning boredom. “Go on.”

I stopped a few paces away. My pulse thundered. “There’s a treatment. It’s experimental, expensive. It might help a child in my care who’s… sick.”

I couldn’t make myself say Carl’s name, couldn’t let it slip. “I thought perhaps…” My voice caught. “You might have access to channels I don’t. To fast-track the medication.”

His expression went still. Too still. “A child.”

“Yes.”

“Kevin’s?” The way he said it was like a slap.

My mouth opened, but no sound came.

He rose, his height filling the room. “You come to me, after years of hiding, asking me to use my influence to help your—” his lip curled “—bastard?”

“Stop.” My voice cracked. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” He stalked toward me, each step radiating heat and anger. “You ran to him. You bore his spawn. And now you want me to fix what your perfect Alpha lover can’t?”

My nails dug into my palms. “It’s not like that—”

“Then enlighten me.” His eyes were wildfire. “Why come to me at all? Why not go to Kevin with your begging?”

“Because I thought…” My breath hitched. “Because I thought somewhere under all that rage you still had a shred of decency left.”

For a heartbeat, pain flickered across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by fury. “Decency?” His voice rose, echoing off the office walls. “You dare talk to me of decency?”

I flinched, but stood my ground. “A child is dying.”

He snarled—a sound almost inhuman—and slammed a hand on the desk so hard papers fluttered to the floor. “Illegitimate children of traitors aren’t my concern.”

The words sliced through me. My knees wobbled but I refused to collapse. “I see.” My throat burned. “Thank you for clarifying.”

I turned toward the door, but before I could touch the handle, a gust of Alpha power swept over me, thick and heavy as a storm.

“You’re not leaving.”

I spun back, heart lurching. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was ice. “You’re coming with me.”

Nicholas’s POV

She glared at me, chin high despite the tremor in her hands. Her scent—fear, desperation, and something else I couldn’t name—hit me like claws against my ribs.

Norman prowled inside my head, growling. Mate. Ours. Don’t let her run.

I straightened, fighting to breathe. This woman had lied to me, hidden from me, flaunted Kevin in my face. Yet every cell of my body still recognized her as mine.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t trust you.” The words came out harsher than I intended. “Because you’ve been hiding things, important things, and I won’t have you slipping away again.”

She took a step back. “This isn’t protection. This is imprisonment.”

I stalked closer, hands fisting at my sides. “Call it what you want. But you’re staying until I know the truth.”

Norman’s voice rumbled in my skull. She’s lying. She’s hiding the pups. Smell it on her. Punish her.

I shut my eyes briefly. I could still see Carl’s eyes, so much like mine, in every nightmare. I could still smell the phantom of her skin from years ago. The thought of her carrying another man’s children twisted my insides into knives.

“Take her,” I ordered the guards outside. My voice barely sounded like my own. “To the east cell. No contact unless I approve it.”

“Sir?” one guard hesitated. “The east cell is—”

“Do as I said.”

When they seized her arms, she jerked against them, eyes blazing. “You can’t do this.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a snarl. “I can. And I will.”

Her chin trembled but she didn’t look away. “I came here because I thought you might help a child. And this is your answer?”

Something cracked in my chest at the word child. I almost reached for her, almost said tell me everything, but Norman surged forward, a wall of possessive fury. Don’t show weakness. She’s betrayed you.

The guards led her out. Her scent lingered behind like smoke after a fire.

The walk to the dungeons felt longer than usual. I followed a few paces behind, my own fists clenching and unclenching. The corridors were lined with stone and iron sconces, the air cold enough to fog our breaths.

She stumbled once on the uneven floor, but caught herself, refusing to look back at me. Even now she had pride. Damn her for it.

At the cell, the guards swung open the door of iron bars and revealed a cot and a bucket inside. She stepped in without a word, then turned to face me, chin lifted.

“Feel better?” she asked. Her voice was ragged but defiant.

I stayed just outside the bars, gripping the metal until it groaned. “Not yet.”

She crossed her arms. “Then why not throw me to the rogues and be done with it?”

My jaw clenched. Because I couldn’t. Because even after everything, the thought of her blood on someone else’s claws made my wolf howl.

“You’re safer here,” I muttered.

She laughed once, bitter. “Safe? With you?”

I didn’t answer. Instead I stared at her. Her dark hair fell into her eyes, and there was a slight tremor in her shoulders. She looked smaller than she used to, but somehow harder too, like a blade hammered thin.

Norman pressed against the back of my mind. She’s ours. Take her. Make her tell the truth.

“Stop it,” I hissed under my breath.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“Nothing.” I turned away, forcing air into my lungs. My wolf’s need to pace, to smash, to demand answers, scraped raw at my skin.

Hours passed. I sat outside her cell on the cold bench, elbows on my knees, watching her from between my fingers. She refused to look at me, instead tracing the pattern of the stones with her eyes like she could read a way out of them.

I hated myself for bringing her here. Hated her for making it necessary. Hated Kevin for existing at all.

If the pups are his, Norman growled, why do they smell like ours?

I jolted upright. What did you say?

But he only snarled and retreated, leaving me shaking.

She finally lay down on the cot, curling onto her side. In the dim torchlight her face looked carved from porcelain, lips pressed tight, lashes clumped with unshed tears. For a moment, an image from years ago overlaid itself. I saw her asleep in my bed after the bond first snapped taut between us.

I raked my hands over my face. This wasn’t protection. This was obsession.

I stood, pacing the corridor. The guards at the far end glanced at me nervously but said nothing. I caught sight of my reflection in a metal wall panel and my eyes glowing faint gold, veins standing out along my neck.

Norman was close to the surface. Too close.

I forced a deep breath.

“You’re here because I can’t lose you again,” I muttered, though she couldn’t hear me. “Even if you hate me for it.”

When I finally looked back at her cell, she was sitting up again, knees drawn to her chest, eyes fixed on me through the bars.

“Do you enjoy this?” she asked quietly. “Watching me like an animal?”

The words hit harder than a slap. “No.”

“Then why?” Her voice cracked. “Why, Nicholas? What did I do to make you hate me this much?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. The truth that I didn’t hate her, that I hated myself, would tear me open. So I said nothing.

She shook her head slowly and looked away. “You’re pathetic.”

I turned before she could see my expression.

Down the corridor, I leaned against the stone and let my head thump back.

Norman pressed up again, growling low, but softer now. You could let her explain.

“She won’t,” I whispered.

Because you don’t listen.

I slammed my fist into the wall, leaving a spiderweb crack. Guards jumped but didn’t dare approach.

Back in the cell, Esther curled tighter, whispering something I couldn’t catch. Her scent drifted through the bars, one of salt tears and steel resolve. Even here, imprisoned, she smelled of fight.

Somewhere deep inside me, despite all my fury and suspicion, a dangerous thought crept in:

What if she’s telling the truth?