Chapter 12

Madden’s POV

She sat two chairs down from me, stiff as iron, her eyes fixed on her untouched plate.

It should have amused me how stubbornly she clung to her hatred even in the smallest things, refusing to taste the food, refusing to look at me, refusing to breathe unless it was through clenched teeth. But there was no amusement left in me. Only a gnawing ache that had festered for years, growing sharp enough to draw blood from the inside.

“Eat,” I said, my tone more command than request. I knew better than to talk calmly. If she senses me being polite with her, it'll give her all the motivation she needs to defy me. And I wasn't going to let that happen.

Her jaw tightened. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, white-knuckled. “I’m not hungry.”

The lie lingered in the air, brittle. I could hear her stomach growl. So could half the wolves stationed along the hall.

I leaned closer, deliberately dragging my chair against the floor until the sound grated. She flinched but didn’t turn. I inhaled her scent, fear and defiance mingling in a way that tore at me.

“You’ll eat,” I said quietly, so only she could hear. “Or I’ll feed you myself.” of course I just said that becasue that would make her eat. I wasn't really fing to feed her . How old is she? Five?

Her head snapped toward me, eyes blazing, lips trembling with disgust. For a moment, I almost wanted her to spit at me, to bare her teeth and strike. At least then I could fight her anger instead of this…this hollow silence that felt worse than a blade.

But she stayed still. A storm behind glass. I really wanted to do something other than speak so she could eat. She doesn't seize to amuse me with her attitude.

The council dined with us that evening, their whispers louder than the clink of silverware. They eyed her like she was a stain on the tablecloth, an intruder in the seat once reserved for the Luna they adored. Seraphine’s name hovered unspoken on every tongue, a ghost slipping between each word.

I ignored them. Let them whisper. Let them choke on their envy and fear. She would sit here. She would stay here.

Whether she liked it or not.

Later, in the throne room, I made her stand at my side. The high-backed chair of carved obsidian loomed over the chamber, and I could feel her stiffen every time I shifted closer. She tried to keep her gaze low, but the bond betrayed her. Her pulse jumped whenever I leaned forward, her wolf restless under her skin.

She wanted to hate me. She did hate me. But her body remembered me.

Every damn inch of her remembered.

It took everything in me to keep the mask on, to sit as though I were carved from the same stone as the throne. I couldn’t afford for them to see me falter, to see how her presence unraveled me.

And then Cassian arrived.

He strode into the throne room like it belonged to him, a grin tugging at his lips, his steps too easy, too confident. He bowed low, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked from me to her.

“Your Majesty,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “And…what a surprise. The lost one returns.”

Nadine’s head jerked up, her eyes narrowing.

I felt it then the way Cassian’s gaze lingered on her a beat too long. The way his charm curled around her name like smoke. My wolf bristled inside me, claws raking at my chest, demanding I tear the grin from his face.

“Cassian,” I said flatly. “You’re late.”

He only smirked. “Traffic on the border. You know how it is.”

The council chuckled nervously.

I didn’t.

I watched Nadine instead, how her body went rigid under his attention, how she shifted ever so slightly closer to me as though instinct betrayed her even when her heart resisted. She hated me, but next to me she felt safer than under Cassian’s gaze.

The thought twisted in my gut like a knife.

Cassian stepped forward, eyes still dancing with sly amusement. “So this is the mate who ran,” he said softly, deliberately for her to hear. “The one who left the king feral.”

Her breath hitched.

I growled low in my throat, enough to silence the chamber. “Mind your tongue.”

Cassian bowed again, but his grin never faltered. “Of course, Majesty. Only curiosity. We’ve all wondered what kind of woman could drive even the great Madden Vale to madness.”

Nadine stiffened at my side, her face pale but burning. She opened her mouth, whether to defend herself or curse me, I didn’t know, but I caught her wrist beneath the folds of my cloak and squeezed, warning.

Not here. Not now.

Cassian’s eyes flicked to the movement, his grin widening as though he’d seen more than he should.

My mask didn’t crack. Not even when every instinct screamed to rip his throat open before he could look at her again.

Instead, I leaned back in the throne, my grip still firm on Nadine’s wrist, grounding her, claiming her. “The council session is over,” I announced, my voice carrying across the chamber like thunder. “We’ll reconvene when I summon you.”

They bowed. Cassian was the last to leave, his gaze sliding over Nadine one last time, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

The door shut. Silence fell.

I released her wrist slowly, forcing myself to let go when all I wanted was to keep her tethered to me, to prove to her and everyone else that she was mine.

She yanked her hand back, rubbing the skin as though I’d burned her. Her glare cut into me, raw with fury.

“You’re a monster,” she hissed.

I leaned close enough that my breath brushed her ear, letting the mask slip just for her. “And you’re mine.”

Her breath stuttered.

The bond hummed between us, alive and merciless.

She turned away, but not before I

caught the faintest tremor in her hands.

And for the first time in years, I almost smiled.