Inside the chamber, Lyra sat rigid on the bed, refusing to eat. Her lips pressed tightly together, notebook forgotten on the side table, arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
"My lady, please," Penny begged, placing the untouched tray on the nightstand. "I understand you're scared, but you must eat. You're too weak to even stand."
Lyra shook her head violently, hands trembling as she wrote another plea.
Please help me leave. I won't survive here.
Penny's eyes filled with sympathy—but helplessness, too. "I'm sorry, I can't disobey the Alpha. I wish I could…"
Before Lyra could respond, the door burst open with a loud thud.
Cassian entered, eyes sharp, presence heavy and unreadable.
Lyra flinched instinctively, her entire body tensing as he stepped inside.
"Privacy," he ordered, voice flat but unyielding.
Penny hesitated only a second before bowing her head and hurrying out, casting one last worried glance at Lyra.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Cassian's eyes locked onto Lyra's, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
She took a shaky step back. Then another. Her bag clutched protectively in her arms. Her instincts screamed to run, but the moment she turned—
Cassian moved faster.
In a blink, he was in front of her, blocking the exit.
"Stop," he growled, low and rough. "Before I lose my damn mind."
She stumbled backward, eyes wide, throat tight. Her bag slipped from her grasp.
And then—he was lifting her.
She gasped, twisting in his arms. "Let me go! What are you doing?" The words came out choked, cracked with desperation.
But Cassian didn't answer. He carried her back to the bed and laid her down—not roughly, but with purpose. His touch was firm, not cruel. His expression unreadable.
"You don't listen," he said, his voice a deep rumble.
Lyra scrambled back on the mattress, heart racing, trying to distance herself. But before she could reach the edge, he planted his hands on either side of her, caging her in.
Trapping her.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath shallow as she stared up at him. Every nerve in her body screamed danger. And yet—beneath the fear, something else simmered. Something hotter. More confusing.
He leaned in.
Close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. Close enough for her to see the strain in his eyes—the war within him.
"You keep trying to run," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "You keep defying me."
His lips curled faintly, though his eyes were anything but soft.
"You don't get it yet, do you?"
Lyra blinked, throat closing. She reached blindly for her notebook, but he was faster—tossing it aside with a flick of his hand.
"You don't want to eat?" he said, voice dipping lower. "You want to starve yourself? Fine."
He leaned in closer, his gaze locking with hers.
"Then maybe I'll feed you my way."
Her breath caught.
Cassian's voice darkened—possessive, commanding, but rough around the edges, like he was holding back something more primal.
"Eat," he warned, "or I'll shut that stubborn little mouth with my own."
Lyra froze, eyes wide.
He didn't touch her lips. Didn't press forward.
But the threat—or the promise—hung thick in the air between them.
Not cruel.
But undeniably Alpha.
Cassian stared at her a moment longer—long enough for her to feel every beat of her heart in her throat. Then, he pulled back, retrieving the tray and setting it on the bed beside her.
"Eat, Lyra," he said, voice quieter now. "Because if you pass out again, I will carry you to the healers. And next time, I won't be gentle."
He turned and walked toward the door—but paused just before stepping out.
"And next time you think about running," he added without turning around, "remember that I found you once."
Then he was gone.