(Damien POV)
The alpha's private study smelled of old leather, cedar smoke, and the faint metallic bite of authority.
I stood in front of his desk like I had a thousand times before—shoulders back, hands clasped behind me, face blank. But this time the air felt thinner. The shadows under my skin were louder, hungrier, clawing at the edges of my control. Every breath I took tasted like ash.
My father didn't look up from the parchment he was reading.
He let the silence stretch.
Let it press.
Let it remind me who held the power here.
When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. Measured. Final.
"She is too dangerous to be free."
I felt the words land like a blade between my ribs.
I didn't flinch.
Didn't speak.
Just waited.
He set the parchment down.
Met my eyes.
Cold.
Unblinking.
