CHAPTER FIVE: BOUND IN CHAINS

Ayla’s mind raced. She had expected temporary acceptance—perhaps a night’s shelter, a reluctant nod of gratitude, or at most, a few days under close watch. But not this.

Kael had just declared her the pack’s healer, binding her to Shadowfang in front of everyone. His words had sealed her fate before she could protest, before she could maneuver her own path.

This was dangerous.

She had planned to infiltrate the pack on her own terms, to control the pace of her revenge. She needed time—to observe, to manipulate, to strike when the moment was right. But now, that luxury had been ripped from her grasp. Instead of slipping in unnoticed, she had been thrust into the center of Kael’s scrutiny.

Trapped under his watchful eye.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms. She forced herself to remain outwardly composed, even as her mind spun with possibilities. How could she turn this to her advantage?

“You don’t look pleased,” Kael observed, his silver eyes narrowing ever so slightly. There was something sharp in his gaze, something probing, as if he were dissecting every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

Ayla schooled her features into neutrality. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he said flatly, his voice like cold steel. “You’re here now, and you will do as you’re told.”

Murmurs of approval rippled through the gathered wolves.

A rogue had no right to refuse an Alpha’s command.

Ayla knew that. She had played this role before—the submissive, the obedient. And if she wanted to survive in the lion’s den, she had to play it again.

So she bowed her head slightly, lowering her gaze in feigned submission. “As you wish, Alpha.”

Kael held her stare for a long, tense moment, as if daring her to challenge him. But when she remained still, offering no further resistance, he finally turned to his warriors.

“Take her to the healer’s quarters,” he ordered. “She stays there under guard.”

Two warriors stepped forward without hesitation, their hands gripping her arms. Their touch wasn’t brutal, but it was firm, unwavering. Shadowfang took no risks with strangers, and she was no exception.

Ayla allowed them to lead her, keeping her movements controlled, her expression unreadable. But her mind was working, cataloging every detail around her.

As they guided her through the packhouse, she took in everything—the towering stone walls, the heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron, the strategically placed guards standing at key points of entry. Every corridor, every turn, every visible escape route.

Every detail mattered.

If she was going to win, she had to know this place inside and out.

Finally, they reached a chamber near the back of the packhouse. One of the guards stepped ahead, pushing open a sturdy wooden door.

A dimly lit space greeted her, filled with shelves lined with dried herbs and glass jars of medical salves. A single wooden table stood in the center, its surface scratched from years of use. Against the far wall, a small bed with a thin mattress. Barely furnished, but functional.

“This is where you’ll stay,” one of the guards stated. His tone held no hostility, but there was no warmth either. Just caution. “Don’t try anything.”

Ayla stepped inside, keeping her posture relaxed, unconcerned. She listened as the door shut behind her with a heavy thud, the finality of the sound echoing in the quiet space.

She was alone.

For now.

She exhaled slowly and stepped toward the small wooden table, running her fingers along its worn surface. She wasn’t here to be a healer. This was never about saving a life.

This was about getting close to Kael.

About getting close enough to destroy him.

But she had underestimated his caution. She had anticipated resistance, but she hadn’t expected this level of suspicion.

If she made one wrong move, everything could collapse before she even had a chance to strike.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, sharp movement.

The door burst open without warning.

Ayla’s head snapped up, her body tensing instinctively.

A figure strode inside, not bothering to knock.

Tall, poised, and dressed in elegant silk robes, golden hair cascading down her back in perfect waves. Eyes the color of ice, sharp and assessing.

Liana.

Ayla remained still, though her fingers gripped the edge of the table. She had known this moment would come—had prepared herself for it—but not so soon.

Liana’s gaze swept over her in a slow, deliberate manner, as if she were sizing up a piece of property. Amusement flickered across her features.

“So, you’re the new healer?” she mused, tilting her head slightly.

Ayla forced her shoulders to relax, keeping her expression neutral, unreadable.

Liana didn’t recognize her.

Of course, she wouldn’t.

Her face had changed after the rebirth.

“Yes, my lady,” Ayla said softly, lowering her gaze in false submission.

Liana scoffed, stepping further inside. The silk of her robe rustled with the movement, trailing behind her like the robes of a queen surveying her domain. “How dull,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I was hoping for someone a bit more… impressive.”

Ayla’s jaw clenched, but she did not react.

Liana’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I suppose the Alpha felt pity for you,” she continued, her tone light but laced with condescension. “He does have a habit of collecting strays.”

Ayla remained silent, her fingers curling into her palm.

Liana took another step closer, invading her space without hesitation. She was testing her.

She lifted a hand, trailing her fingers along the shelves, knocking down a small jar of dried herbs with an absent flick of her wrist. The jar hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling across the floor.

Ayla didn’t move to pick it up.

Liana turned back to her, examining her face with a critical eye. A moment of pause.

Then... 

“You look… familiar.”

Ayla’s pulse quickened, but she did not flinch.

“I’m just a healer, my lady,” she said, her voice calm, steady. “Nothing more.”

Liana studied her for a beat longer.

Then, she hummed, a slow, knowing sound.

“Good.” A smirk ghosted across her lips. “Keep it that way.”

She turned, stepping toward the door, but not before letting her fingers trail lazily over the edge of the table. “It would be such a shame if you disappointed us,” she mused, her voice soft but taunting. “Kael has no patience for the weak.”

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar in her wake.

Ayla remained still, listening as her footsteps faded down the corridor.

Only when she was certain Liana was gone did she allow herself to release the breath she’d been holding.

Liana had looked her in the eye. Had studied her face, scrutinized her features.

And yet, she had seen nothing.

Nothing but a weak, nameless rogue.

Perfect.