Chapter 3

"Who the hell let you in?" Kane roared.

It wasn't a human voice. It was a vibration that rattled my teeth, a low-frequency snarl that made the floor tremble.

Standing in the wreckage was a man in blackened steel armor, a heavy war-hammer resting on his shoulder. Behind him, a dozen mercenaries stepped through the smoke, blades drawn and glowing with a sickly, pale light.

"The Council wants their sacrifice back, Kane," the lead warrior spat. He didn't even look at me. I was just luggage. "Or maybe they just want to see if the Savage King actually bleeds when he's distracted."

Kane’s grip tightened. His fingers dug into my hip. Through the thin fabric of my dress, I could feel the heat radiating off him. It wasn't just body heat—it was a fever. A rage.

And because of those damn cuffs, I felt it too. A wave of blinding, jagged anger crashed into my chest, forcing my heart to race in sync with his.

"She's not a sacrifice anymore," Kane hissed. His eyes bled into a deep, predatory crimson. "She's mine."

"Yours?" The warrior laughed. "You think a piece of scrap like her belongs to you? She’s a defective tool. A mistake. Hand her over, or we burn this fortress to the ground with you locked inside."

I shifted, trying to pull away, but the blood-cuff on my wrist flared. Searing heat shot up my arm, locking me in place. I gasped, my legs buckling.

"Stop moving," Kane commanded. He didn't look at me, but the warning in his voice was lethal.

"I can't!" I snapped. "It burns!"

"Then endure it," he replied, cold as ice. He stepped forward, shielding me with his massive frame. "Because if you trip now, you're dead before I can blink."

"Protecting her?" The warrior sounded amused. "The great Savage King, playing bodyguard to a worthless outcast. The Council will love this. It’s a weakness, Kane. A pathetic, bleeding weakness."

Kane didn't answer with words. He moved.

It was a blur. One second he was in front of me; the next, he was a whirlwind of violence. He didn't use a weapon. He didn't need one. He slammed into the first mercenary with a force that sounded like a car crash. Ribs snapped. The man was launched ten feet backward, hitting the wall with a sickening thud.

I scrambled back, my spine hitting a cold pillar. The cuff pulsed—*thump, thump, thump*—mimicking Kane's accelerating heart. I could feel his bloodlust. It was a hungry, screaming void.

But beneath the rage, there was something else. A jagged loneliness. A sense of being trapped in a cage of his own making.

"Is that all?" Kane bellowed, standing over a broken body. He looked back at me for a split second. His gaze was predatory. Possessive. "Watch closely, little bird. This is how the world treats things it thinks are weak."

"I'm not watching for entertainment!" I yelled, shaking. "Just kill them and get us out of here!"

"Patience," he smirked. "I'm enjoying the smell of their fear."

The lead warrior roared, swinging his hammer in a devastating arc. It whistled through the air, aimed straight for Kane's skull.

Kane didn't dodge. He caught the handle with one hand. The impact sent a shockwave through the floor that nearly knocked me off my feet.

Metal groaned. The warrior's face twisted in shock.

"My turn," Kane whispered.

He twisted the hammer out of the man's grip like it was a toy and drove his fist into the warrior's gut. A wet sound. The man folded, coughing blood onto the polished floor. Kane didn't stop. He grabbed the man by the throat, hoisting him up until his boots dangled.

"Tell the Council," Kane snarled, face inches from the warrior's, "that if they want her, they can come and try to take her from my cold, dead hands. But they'll find the road paved with their own corpses first."

He flung the man through the broken doorway like trash. The remaining mercenaries didn't wait. They retreated, dragging their wounded, boots scrambling against the stone.

Silence returned. Heavy. Suffocating.

Kane stood there, chest heaving. The crimson in his eyes didn't fade. He turned toward me, and I instinctively shrank back. He could snap my neck with two fingers. He could crush my spirit without even trying.

"You're shaking," he observed. He walked toward me, footsteps slow and deliberate.

"Of course I'm shaking!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "You almost let them kill me! You're a psychopath!"

"I saved you," he countered. He stopped inches away. His large hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up into those terrifying red eyes. His palm was searing.

"And you felt it, didn't you?" he murmured. "The link. My hunger. My rage."

I couldn't lie. The cuff was still humming. "Yes," I whispered.

"Good." His thumb brushed my lower lip. It was almost tender, if not for the predatory hunger in his gaze. "Now you know exactly what you're bonded to. You aren't a guest here, Elara. You aren't a prisoner. You're a tether. My only tether to sanity."

"I don't want to be your sanity," I spat, trying to jerk away. He didn't let go.

"Too bad," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "You don't get a choice. The mark is set. Your blood is mine, and my curse is now your burden. If I fall, you fall with me."

He let go of my chin and stepped back. The sudden loss of his heat left me cold and exposed. He looked at the blood-cuff on my wrist with something like curiosity mixed with disgust.

"Go to your room," he commanded. "The guards will show you the way. Don't try to run. The cuff will alert me the moment you leave the inner circle, and I'll come find you. And believe me... I won't be in a good mood."

I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted, my heart still hammering. As I ran through the dim corridors, I could still feel him. A faint, lingering pull in the back of my mind, like a string tied to my soul.

I reached my chambers and slammed the door shut, leaning my back against the wood. I sank to the floor, gasping. I looked down at the cuff. The runes were glowing a soft, ominous violet.

I thought I was safe. I thought the worst was over.

Then, a soft knock. Not a guard's boot. A familiar, rhythmic pattern.

I froze. I knew that knock.

I opened the door an inch. Standing there, leaning against the wall with a smug, poisonous smile, was Silas. He looked entirely too relaxed for someone whose 'gift' had just been attacked by a warlord.

"Miss me, sister?" Silas asked, eyes glinting with malice.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed. "Kane would kill you if he saw you."

Silas chuckled, stepping into the room without an invite. He patted my cheek, his touch making my skin crawl.

"Oh, Kane doesn't know I'm here. But he will know soon," Silas whispered, leaning close to my ear. "You see, Elara, I didn't just give you to him as a sacrifice. I left a little something extra in your blood. A little gift that's just starting to wake up."

I frowned, cold dread settling in my stomach. "What are you talking about?"

Silas grinned, teeth white and sharp. "Just wait until the first full moon. That's when the real fun—"