Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Killian’s POV

She doesn’t flinch. Not at all like I thought she would.
Larisa just stands there, her body tense, chin caught in my grip. Those fiery eyes of hers are locked onto mine, filled with that same dangerous defiance that makes me both crave her and loathe her all at once.
She isn’t scared of me.
And that’s a problem.
“You’re mine,” I say again, but this time it’s slower, quieter—like a vow… or maybe a threat. “And you’ll never leave this pack. Got it?”
Her lip twitches. Not quite a smile. More like something dark. “I was never yours to begin with,” she whispers. “You just thought I was.”
Ouch. That stings more than I’d like to admit. But I won’t let her see it. Not when I’m this close.
“You really think Damien’s going to swoop in and save you?” I chuckle softly. “That rogue only thinks with his fists and anger. He doesn’t plan. He reacts. He doesn’t protect. He destroys.”
She jerks her chin out of my grasp. “At least he never pretended to be something he’s not.”
Anger flares up inside me, sharp as a knife. I slam my hand against the window frame beside her, hard enough that it cracks. She jumps—just a tiny flicker—but it’s enough to remind her who’s in charge.
“You think you know him?” I sneer. “One night in a dark club and you think you’ve got it all figured out? He’s not a dream, Larisa. He’s dangerous.”
For just a moment, her eyes flicker—just a quick flash—but I catch it. Doubt. Fear. Maybe even regret.
But not enough.
“Let me make this crystal clear,” I say, stepping closer, my breath brushing against her skin. “If you try to leave again, I won’t go after him. I’ll go after everyone he cares about. Every rogue who’s ever followed him. I’ll make sure they suffer for you.”
I step back slowly, giving her a breath of space.
She doesn’t cry. Doesn’t scream. Just stares at me with this cold, quiet fury that stirs my wolf inside me.
She’s tougher than I thought.
But strength? It’s still no match for strategy.

Later that night, I call for Cassian—my most trusted warrior. He slips into my office like a shadow, dark cloak trailing behind him, eyes sharp as knives.
“She’s meeting someone,” I tell him, sliding the note across the table. “We need eyes on the border. If Damien even gets a whiff of this pack, I want him dead before he can draw his next breath.”
Cassian picks up the note, glances at it once, then folds it into his coat. “Got it.”
“And Cassian?”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“If you catch him… I want him alive. Just long enough for him to watch her beg for his life.”
He nods once and disappears without another word.

But I can’t sleep that night.
I just can’t.
Something’s shifting. I feel it deep in my bones. The wind howls louder through the trees, the guards are glancing at each other a little too closely. Secrets are crawling beneath the surface like… well, like maggots.
And Larisa? She’s not breaking.
She’s bending, sure. But still way too intact for my liking.
I thought by now she’d be shattered. That the weight of my manipulation, the fake kindness I’ve shown, would’ve pulled her under.
But that one night—his night—lit a fire in her soul that I can’t seem to extinguish.
I hate it.
I hate him.
I hate that some rogue, some nobody, has that kind of hold on her heart.
And yet…
A part of me, buried under years of power and pride, wonders what she would’ve been like if I’d met her first—before Damien. Before Hazel’s death. Before the lies.
Would she have looked at me like that?
Would she have chosen me?
No. I push the thought away. I don’t have time for what-ifs. I only care about what’s mine—and how to keep it.
Even if it means burning the whole world down to do it.

As the moon rises high and cold above my estate, I pace by the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance.
I know Damien will come. He can’t help himself. He’s too predictable. Too soft when it comes to her.
He’ll try to sneak in.
He’ll think he’s clever.
He won’t see the trap until it’s too late.
But then, as the embers hiss suddenly,He’s going to try to sneak in, isn’t he?
Thinks he’s so clever.
But he won’t realize he’s walking into a trap until it’s too late.
Then, suddenly, the embers hiss, and I see a shadow slipping through the hallway beyond my door. I freeze.
This isn’t a guard. It’s not a servant, either.
It’s something quicker. Quieter.
Someone’s already here.
I reach for the blade I’ve got hidden under my desk—just as that scent hits me.
It’s not a rogue.
Not from the pack.
But it’s hers.
And it’s leading away, right toward the east wall.
She’s gone.