CHAPTER 85
ZARKHAN’S POV
The cold steel of the bars was a permanent extension of my hands, the only constant in this wolfsbane-induced haze. I’d lost track of how many hours I’d been staring into the oppressive dimness, listening to the drip of water and the frantic, useless pounding of my own heart. The hollow ache where my wolf should be was a phantom limb, screaming in silent agony.
The familiar, hated scent of his cologne hit me a second before his shadow fell across the cage. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Back for more pathetic gloating, Blake?” My voice was a dry rasp, scratching against my raw throat. “Haven’t you got an empire to mismanage?”
He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he just stood there, a tall, commanding silhouette of pure venom. I could feel his intense gaze boring into me, and it took every ounce of my shredded pride not to squirm under it.
“I have no intention of dragging this out further, Zarkhan,” he finally said, his tone chillingly conversational. “Your stubbornness is as predictable as it is tedious. I’m here to present the deal. The only one you’re going to get. You will give me a listening ear.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Or what? You’ll bore me to death with more stories of daddy issues?”
The air shifted. I felt the cold wave of his anger even through the bars. He took a single, deliberate step closer. “Sneer all you want from your cage, mutt. It doesn’t change your circumstances. You will listen.”
I finally lifted my head, meeting his sharp, predatory gaze. The wolfsbane made my vision swim, but the hatred I felt was a laser focus. “Spill it, then. Let’s get this over with.”
A slow, ugly smirk spread across his face. He’d gotten the reaction he wanted. He crouched down, bringing us to eye level, a king condescending to a beggar. The proximity made my skin crawl.
“I thought you were going to continue with the bravado shit. It’s almost endearing.” He rested his forearms on his knees, the picture of casual control. “It’s simple. Really, it’s the easiest thing you’ll ever do. All I want you to do for me is convince Giselle to marry me.”
The world didn’t just tilt; it upended. A white-hot fire exploded behind my eyes, so violent and sudden it burned through the wolfsbane’s fog. My vision tinged red. The bars in my hands groaned under the sudden, inhuman pressure of my grip.
“Are you,” I snarled, the words vibrating with a fury so profound I felt unhinged, “begging for death?”
He didn’t even blink. His smirk never wavered. He actually had the fucking audacity to snicker. “And how, precisely, are you going to accomplish that from behind these bars? Hmm? Tell me. I’m fascinated.” He gestured with one hand at the impregnable steel surrounding me. “Your threats are the empty rattling of a ghost. You have no power here. You have nothing.”
My mate. He wanted me to hand over my mate. To convince her to belong to him. The possessive rage that thought ignited was a living thing, thrashing against the confines of my flesh and bone and this fucking cage. It was a violation worse than any torture.
I’d rip his fucking tongue out for even speaking her name.
I forced air into my lungs, fighting for a control I didn’t possess. “Get out,” I growled, the sound barely human. “Leave me the hell alone. There is no fucking way I am giving up my mate to a sick, pathetic worm like you.”
It was a lie. A desperate, flailing lie. Because beneath the rage, a cold, calculating part of my brain, the part that had kept me alive in the mafia wars, was already working. He doesn’t know. He knew we were connected, that we had a pull, but he thought it was just lust, just a fractured bond. He didn’t understand the mate bond was completed. He didn’t know I’d already claimed her, that the mark was on her skin and my soul. He thought he was asking me to give away a prize. He didn’t know he was asking me to sever my own fucking soul.
He laughed, a rich, amused sound that echoed cruelly in the dank space. “Oh, but it’s in your best interest, Zarkhan. Can’t you see that? It’s the only thing that will save you.”
I fell silent, my chest heaving. I just stared at him, trying to see the angle, the trick.
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that made my flesh crawl. “You convince that pretty little thing to become my wife… and I let you walk out of here. Alive. You have my word.”
My word. The words of a man who tortured for fun and plotted patricide. The offer was so absurd it was almost funny.
He saw the disbelief on my face and his smile widened, turning truly evil. “Think about it. You get to live. She gets the protection of my name, the luxury of my wealth. And you?” He paused, letting the implication hang in the stale air. “You get to live with the knowledge that you saved her. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be her hero? Even if it means giving her to another man?”
The manipulation was so blatant, so perfectly aimed at the heart of every insecurity, every protective instinct I had. He was offering me a way to ensure her safety, to give her a life of comfort, at the cost of my own sanity. He wasn’t just trying to break me; he was trying to make me break myself.
He stood up, brushing invisible dust from his impeccably tailored trousers. “No need to answer now. Mull it over. I’ll be back for your decision.”
He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing into silence, leaving me alone with the most monstrous choice of my life. The cage felt smaller than ever. The wolfsbane’s burn in my veins was nothing compared to the acid churning in my gut.
Save her life by giving her away. The thought was a physical pain. I saw her face, the trust in her eyes when she looked at me. Could I ever look at her again if I did this? Could I live with myself?