[POV: Draven]
* Present *
I told myself I just wanted answers. A clearer picture of the man who’d walked into my territory, cloaked in questions and carrying more secrets than supplies.
I told myself this was strategy—keep him close, feel him out, watch the way he moved under pressure.
But the second he entered my quarters, all those carefully laid lies unraveled. Because there he was. Stillness and fire wrapped in one tight body.
I wanted to see what it would take to shake him. To strip away that mask he wore like armor.
“You. In my bed.”
His reaction was exactly what I needed.
Shock. Then fire. A flash of something he didn’t bother hiding. His hands curled slightly at his sides.
I wasn’t being cruel. Not exactly. I wasn’t trying to humiliate him either.
I just wanted to see him break form. To feel something real from him, even if it was anger. Especially if it was anger.
Because lies were harder to hold when fury took over.
He didn’t sit. I hadn’t offered him a seat. He stood near the center of the room, guarded but poised, and I wondered—if I pushed just hard enough—would he lash out? Or finally let something slip?
I moved around him in slow circles, never once breaking stride, never once looking away from his face.
I didn’t speak right away. Silence was a weapon, too.
I’d brought him here under the pretense of discussing his integration, his progress. But this wasn’t about duties or training schedules.
This was about him. And what he wasn’t telling me.
“You don’t strike me as someone who wandered into my territory by accident,” I said finally, my voice smooth as smoke. “You hold yourself too well. Your eyes watch too closely.”
He didn’t answer.
Good. He was smart enough to recognize the question hiding beneath the statement.
I let the silence stretch again, circling him slowly, reading the smallest shifts in his posture—the way his fingers curled just slightly at his sides, the way his jaw locked when I came too close. He was holding himself still by force.
But he hadn’t backed away.
Interesting.
“I’ve met a lot of rogues,” I continued. “The starving kind. The desperate kind. The liars, the cowards. You’re not any of those.”
Still, he said nothing. His eyes followed me, calm and unblinking. There was fire in them, but it was buried under layers of restraint.
“What are you running from?” I asked, stepping closer. “What’s got you so eager to disappear into someone else’s pack?”
“I told you,” he said quietly, “I’m not running. I’m just trying to survive.”
His voice was leveled. Polished.
Rehearsed.
I gave a slight nod, as if I accepted that. I didn’t.
“I’m sure you understand why I find that hard to believe,” I murmured, leaning in just enough to brush his shoulder with mine as I passed behind him. “You move like someone trained. You speak like someone raised in power. So forgive me if I don’t believe you were just another stray.”
He stiffened, just slightly. Got you.
“But I am just a rogue,” he said firmly. “There’s nothing special about me.”
His lie was clean. Measured. But lies always had weight, and I could feel it pressing off him like heat.
Silas stirred inside me, restless and sharp.
“He’s hiding something. Push harder.”
I studied the curve of his cheek, the scarless skin of his hands, the crescent mark that now sat clean and visible across his cheekbone. That mark… it was unique. Rare. Almost symbolic.
“Just a rogue?” I echoed with a mocking smile. “Is that what you tell yourself? Or what you hope I’ll believe?”
The lie snapped like a whip between us. I didn’t move. Didn’t scowl. Just smiled, letting the tension thicken between us like smoke.
He wasn’t afraid. Not of me. But he should have been.
He was panting now—barely, but I saw it. The rise and fall of his chest. The burning flush that colored his cheek.
“Is that what you do?” he spat. “Bring in rogues and then—what? Try to tame them with threats and cheap propositions?”
“No,” I said softly. “You’re the only one I’ve brought in.”
That stopped him. His brows pulled together, suspicion mingling with confusion.
I held his gaze, unmoving. “Do you really think I let rogues walk free through my territory? That I share my resources, my protection, my wolves—with just anyone?”
“You don’t know me,” he said, voice tighter now. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “And yet… you’re still here.”
He stepped back. Just enough to break the contact.
His lips parted like he wanted to argue. Wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t make the pieces fit.
He didn’t understand why I let him live. Hell, I didn’t understand. But Silas did.
He prowled just beneath my skin, restless and watching. Atlas’ scent stirred him. His presence called to him.
He didn’t want him dead. He wanted him closer.
That was the part I couldn’t explain. Not to him. Not even to myself.
“I’m grateful for the shelter your pack has given me,” he said sharply, “but if you expect me to repay it with my body—you can go to hell. I’d rather take my chances in the forest again. Alone.”
That struck deeper than any slap could have.
Not because he’d insulted me. But because he’d said it with fire in his voice and steel in his spine.
There was no fear in his eyes. No trembling lip. Just a deep, burning pride that told me exactly who he was. A survivor.
Silas growled in approval. “He fights. He doesn’t submit.”
I should’ve been furious. Should’ve snapped back. Should’ve shown him who he was talking to.
Instead, I stepped back. The pull toward him was maddening.
I didn’t want him like this. Not because of what I could take. I wanted to know him. Strip his secrets. Peel back the mask he wore like armor.
He couldn’t be manipulated like the others. He couldn’t be broken. And goddess help me, I liked that.
“Wrong assumption,” I said flatly, keeping my tone controlled.
His eyes narrowed. “If you tried to take me, you’d bleed for it.”
That made me smile—just slightly.
“Good,” I murmured. “You’ll survive longer in my world with that kind of spine.”
I turned, walking away from him.
“Let’s get something straight,” I said over my shoulder. “As I said before, you can stay. But you’ll be watched—closely.”
I faced him again, my expression cool and unreadable.
“If I catch even a whisper of betrayal—if you harm so much as a single hair on one of my wolves—your punishment will be swift. And final.”
He didn’t respond. But his eyes stayed locked on mine. Not pleading. Not submissive. Unbroken.
Silas pulsed in my chest, wild and intrigued.
He was still a mystery. But I was going to unravel every layer, one thread at a time.