I finished the last of the stew in silence, my thoughts tangled and restless.

  How would he know my favorite?

  The question lingered uncomfortably in my mind. I could not decide if it unsettled me more than it intrigued me. As the hunger faded, warmth spread through my body. Strength returned to my limbs, my core, my spirit.

  No, not just strength.

  I felt better than normal. Stronger. Sharper. Almost…charged.

  A gentle tingling fluttered beneath my skin, similar to the sensations I had felt the day before, but this time it was pleasant. Comforting. Like my body was settling into itself for the first time instead of fighting it.

  Now that my thoughts were clearer, I realized just how alive my senses were.

  I could hear everything. Woodland creatures scurrying through brush, birds calling in the distance, even the slow, steady beat of Azrael’s heart from across the cave. My vision sharpened, cutting through the dim firelight with ease. I caught the scent of damp moss clinging to the cave walls, the mineral tang of stone, and somewhere deeper within the rock, the steady drip of water echoing softly.

  My senses were not just heightened.

  They were awake.

  I shifted to get a better look around and was abruptly reminded of my situation. The chains tugged against my wrists, grounding me in reality. Anger flared. I yanked them deliberately, rattling the metal, then threw Azrael a sharp glare.

  He glanced my way but did not react.

  Scowling, I turned my attention to the cave instead, scanning more carefully this time. I searched for anything useful. A key. A blade. Something I could use.

  But as my eyes adjusted, what I noticed instead made my stomach twist.

  The space was…comfortable.

  Clean. Orderly.

  A small table sat neatly near the bed. Folded clothing rested on a flat stone. Trousers. Socks. Shoes.

  Too small for Azrael.

  My breath caught.

  He prepared for this.

  For me.

  And something else disturbed me even more.

  My wolf was calm.

  Not pacing. Not clawing at my bones. Not snarling to be let out. She rested quietly inside me, settled and content, as if she felt no urgency to escape at all.

  That made no sense.

  I had just experienced my first shift. I was meant to be mated to Kellan last night. It was supposed to be the most important night of my life. The night everything I had dreamed of since childhood finally became real.

  Instead, it had been stolen by this rogue.

  I should be furious. I was furious.

  And yet, beneath the anger, there was an undeniable sense of steadiness. A strange certainty that everything would be all right. Something about Azrael felt safe. Familiar. Dangerous and haunting, yes, but also grounding. The fear tangled uncomfortably with longing, and I hated myself for it.

  “There are some things I need to make clear.”

  His deep voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up, surprised to find him watching me closely.

  “You will remain here until I say otherwise.”

  “Well, isn’t that just great,” I said bitterly, lifting the chain in defiance. “And painfully obvious.”

  “That is not how I wish to keep you here,” he replied evenly. “There are things you do not understand yet. But you will.”

  “Like what?” I demanded. “What are you talking about? Me? Or the Vales?”

  He said nothing.

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  Frustration bubbled over. “I have heard stories about rogues like you. You don’t get what you want, so you burn everything down. Killing. Taking. Destroying.” I swallowed, words sharp with the need to hurt him the way he had hurt me. “You seem exactly like that kind of rogue. You’re just…”

  I hesitated, unable to finish.

  “What?” he asked calmly. “I am what?”

  His composure unsettled me more than anger ever could.

  “Never mind,” I muttered. “I just don’t understand why I’m here.” My voice softened despite myself, like my heart betrayed me at the worst possible time. “If you wanted revenge, you could have taken Kellan. That would have hurt the Vales a thousand times more than taking me would. So why me?”

  I swallowed hard, feeling defeated and heartbroken all at once. “We’re in love, Kellan and I. Do you know what that feels like? To love someone with everything you are?” My chest tightened. “No. Of course you don’t. You probably don’t even have a real heart in that chest of yours.”

  “They are not who you think,” Azrael said quietly. “The Vales. And you don’t truly know who your parents are.”

  I let out a humorless laugh and turned my face away from him. “Oh, and you do?”

  “You thought you were safe,” he continued. “But you never were.”

  I spun back toward him, anger flaring hot. “That’s not true. These mind games won’t work on me. I know my pack, inside and out. I was safer with them than anywhere else in the world. They would have died for me. Especially my parents.”

  The last words faded like a whimper as the ache of missing them hit me full force.

  “I will set you free,” he said.

  Hope surged through me before I could stop it.

  “But only when the time is right.”

  The hope shattered instantly.

  “You need to rest now,” he continued. “I will explain more tomorrow. But understand this.”

  He turned back toward the fire, broad shoulders tense, like the words cost him more than he wanted to admit.

  “They were never prepared for what you are. And because of that, you were never truly safe.”

  I struggle to rouse myself from the deep sleep that overtook me. I have no sense of how long I slept. For once, there were no dreams, no night terrors. Just darkness and rest. A truly restful night, one I desperately needed.

  How I slept at all makes no sense.

  I am a prisoner, taken by a dangerous rogue alpha, with no idea how far I am from home, no clear path to escape, and no certainty that I will ever see my family again. Or Kellan.

  Yet somehow, I slept better than I have in years. Better than I can remember sleeping at all.

  That alone unsettles me.

  I glance around the cave and quickly realize I am alone. Azrael is gone, at least for now. I test my arms, shifting slightly, and the cold reminder of metal answers me.

  Still chained.

  Judging by the angle of sunlight spilling through the cave opening, it is midday.

  I slept half the day away.

  That has never happened to me, not even as a child.

  Slowly, carefully, I twist into a seated position and take in my surroundings. Sometime while I slept, Azrael placed folded clothes on the small table beside the bed. Clean. Neatly stacked.

  I want to put them on immediately, but hesitation roots me in place. What if he comes back while I am changing?

  He has already seen me unclothed, that night by the cliff, and again here. And yet, despite having every opportunity, he did not touch me.

  That fact lingers in my thoughts like a thorn.

  So maybe desire was not his goal.

  But if not that, then what?

  I know the pack will come for me. Azrael could not have carried me very far, could he? We must still be within Vale territory. If I wait, if I stay alert, perhaps I can find a weakness. Something to use. Something to tell Kellan.

  But how?

  The thought leaves me hollow.

  Eventually, I force myself to focus on something practical. I need to be dressed.

  The clothes are simple. A soft long sleeve shirt, likely cotton, that fits my body surprisingly well. A pair of blue jeans that take some effort to pull on but settle comfortably once they are in place. Thick wool socks. Sturdy boots.

  There are no undergarments.

  I almost laugh at the irony. Kidnapping is acceptable, apparently, but buying undergarments is where the line is drawn.

  As I finish tying the last lace, a shadow fills the cave entrance.

  Azrael steps inside, his massive frame blocking the light and plunging the space into brief darkness. He does not look at me. He walks straight to the back wall, reaches for a book stacked among several others, and flips through its pages with quiet focus, as if I am not there at all.

  And somehow, that unsettles me more than his presence ever did.

  I watch him for a moment, studying him.

  Not once does he lift his gaze to acknowledge me. Whatever he is looking for in that book, his focus is absolute. Obsessed, almost.

  He finds the page he sought and sits on the block of wood, eyes scanning each line with quiet intensity.

  In different circumstances, I might even find the sight strangely endearing. The way his brow furrows while he reads. The faint movement of his lips as he mouths each word. The quiet, thoughtful patience in the way he turns the page.

  He is beautiful.

  I hate that I notice.

  Black hair, wild and unruly, still manages to catch the faint cave light like strands of obsidian. Sharp jaw. Straight nose. A body carved by battle and survival. Every inch built for power.

  If he were not a rogue, if his heart was not swallowed by whatever rage and curse he carries, he would have made a formidable alpha.

  A twig snaps outside the cave entrance.

  We both snap our heads toward the sound, then back to each other.

  His expression shifts. A silent warning blazes in his eyes that says: do not even think about it.

  I think about it.

  I draw in a breath and start to scream.

  “Help!” My voice rips through the cave like a blade. “Someone help me! I’m in here!”