Chapter Eight

Laura's breath caught at his words.

Mine.

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a claim she could just brush off. It was a fact, said as simply as the sky being blue or the moon pulling the water.

Her heart beat fast against her ribs like a trapped bird. The sound filled her ears.

Her body still hurt from the broken bond, from the marks all over her skin, but anger burned stronger than pain.

She pulled at the cuffs, not caring how the silver cut into her skin. "I am not your anything you fucker."

The words came out sharp and hot, filling the cold room.

Lucian didn't jump back.

If anything, the side of his mouth went up a bit, a small smile showing in those hard-to-read silver eyes.

"Strange," he said softly. "That's not what your smell says."

Laura went still.

A slow, creeping fear grew in her stomach, cold and heavy like a stone.

"My... smell?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. But she heard it shake.

Lucian leaned in, his nose moving just over the side of her neck.

Laura's breath stopped.

The heat of him, the weight of him being so close, was too much. He wasn't touching her—not really. But he was close enough that she could feel his warmth, close enough that her wolf should have backed away in fear.

But she didn't.

And that scared Laura more than anything.

Lucian breathed in deeply, his chest rising and falling in a slow, careful way. His breath tickled her skin, sending tiny shivers down her spine.

His fingers, which had been sitting lightly on her chin, got just a bit tighter.

Then he pulled back.

"Interesting," he said softly.

Their eyes met again, and something passed between them. Something Laura didn't want to name.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely there.

Lucian just watched her, his head tilted a bit to the side, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Laura swallowed hard, her mind racing.

This wasn't just about land. It wasn't just about some twisted game of power.

Lucian knew something.

Something about her.

She made herself glare at him. "Whatever game you're playing, I'm not interested."

Lucian let out a quiet laugh.

"Who said it was a game?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.

He stood, towering over her. The moment he stepped back, the air felt less heavy. Lighter. Like she could finally breathe again.

But before she could feel better, he turned toward the door.

"Get some rest," he said, his voice changing back to calm and cold. "You'll need it."

Laura's face showed her confusion. "For what?"

She tugged at her chains, the silver links rattling in the quiet room. "You can't just leave me here like this! Tell me what's going on!"

Lucian looked back, his silver eyes giving nothing away.

"Your real problems start soon."

Then he was gone.

The heavy wooden door shut behind him with a low, final sound.

Laura sat there, her wrists hurting from the burning silver, her heart beating fast in her chest.

She looked around the dark room, at the walls that held her captive, at the small window too high to reach.

"What does he want from me?" she whispered to the empty room.

She had run from one bad place—only to walk right into another.

And the worst thing?

She wasn't sure which one was more scary.

She closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.

The smell of him still hung in the air. Wild. Powerful. Dangerous.

And somehow, deep down, her wolf wasn't afraid.

That was the most terrifying thing of all.