Lyra's eyes fluttered, catching the way Cassian's gaze drifted to her lips. A tight knot twisted in her stomach. She wanted to object, to pull back—but she feared that another word, another movement, might push him to do exactly what she dreaded: claim her lips with the authority only an Alpha possessed.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but she kept her eyes on him. His stare lingered on hers, intense and unreadable.
And like a reluctant servant obeying a silent command, she nodded.
Cassian's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. "That's a good girl," he said, the softness in his voice brushing unnervingly against the edges of her fear. It wasn't mockery—but there was something almost fond in it.
He picked up the plate of food and set it between them. "You should consider yourself lucky that I'm feeding you," he murmured. His tone, though quiet, held a strange gentleness. It didn't quite match the ruthless Alpha she had expected—had feared.
Lyra didn't protest. Without meeting his eyes, she opened her mouth and accepted the bite he offered. She didn't trust her voice—not when this unsettling mix of tenderness and command hovered around him like a veil.
Cassian studied her face with faint amusement. "How come you're so quiet? I half-expected you to curse me by now," he teased, as she shot him a glare that could've burned holes through stone.
Her cheeks flushed despite herself, and Cassian chuckled under his breath. "Stubborn," he muttered, bringing another bite to her lips.
She swallowed the food and took the glass of water he offered, her fingers trembling slightly as she handed it back. Nothing about this made sense. She had expected cruelty—expected domination. But this version of him, calm and attentive, unsettled her even more.
"You need to rest," he said after a moment, voice softer. "The wound on your back won't heal otherwise."
Lyra stiffened, the pain returning with a sharp stab at his reminder. She'd nearly forgotten about it—until his words made it pulse again. A hiss of discomfort escaped her lips.
Cassian chuckled again, but there was warmth in the sound this time, not ridicule. It was a laugh that felt… real.
Lyra blinked at him, caught off guard. The Alpha smiles? She had been warned about this man—ruthless, merciless, terrifying.
But this smile... this quiet concern...
It didn't fit the legend.
"What are you going to do with me now that you've bought me?" The question slipped from her mind before she could stop it, her voice hushed and trembling.
Cassian's amusement faded.
He stilled.
His eyes locked on hers, and the tension between them shifted. It wasn't hostile now—but heavy. Weighted. His expression darkened with something more than control—something complicated.
The silence stretched.
He didn't answer at once. Instead, he studied her as if seeing her for the first time. In the golden slant of light from the window, his features looked more human than she ever imagined. Less Alpha, more man.
A man lost in thought.
A man with ghosts.
Lyra sat perfectly still, her breath caught in her throat. The hardness in his face, the chill in his gaze—just for a moment, it cracked. And she saw something flicker behind it. Something vulnerable.
He exhaled, the sound ragged.
"What do you think I'll do with you, Lyra?" he asked at last, his voice rough. Not unkind. But not comforting either. It was a question wrapped in steel, dipped in uncertainty.
Lyra's lips parted. "I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely audible. Her chest tightened around the truth of it. She didn't know. She had feared him, hated the idea of belonging to him—but now…
Now, she wasn't sure what to feel.
Cassian's brows furrowed as he held her gaze. He looked like he wanted to speak—and yet couldn't. Like the words were too jagged to force out.
"I didn't want this," he said finally. Quietly. "I didn't want to bring you here… force you into this life. But you…"
He hesitated.
"You came to me," he murmured, "and I didn't know what to do with you. I still don't."
Lyra's breath hitched.
She had expected cold declarations. Demands. Possession.
Not… this.
Not a confession from a man who'd torn apart enemies with his bare hands—that he was lost.
His eyes held hers again, and something cracked wide open between them. Something raw.
"I didn't buy you because I wanted a mate," Cassian continued, bitterness threading his tone. "I didn't want any mate after her."
Her.
The one before her.
The one he lost.
The weight of those words settled heavily in the room. Lyra had heard the whispers—the stories of the mate he lost, the grief that had nearly swallowed him whole. But hearing him say it… It made her chest ache in a way she hadn't expected.
She watched the way his shoulders tightened, the way his gaze flicked toward the window as if escaping her eyes.
"So," she said again, a little more steadily, "what are you going to do with me now?"
Cassian looked at her—and this time, he didn't hide the conflict in his face.
"I don't know," he said again, voice hoarse. "I don't know what to do with you, Lyra."
He wasn't playing a role anymore. He wasn't pretending to be the Alpha with all the answers. In that moment, he was just a man—haunted by loss, bound by duty, and staring at the one person who might unravel him all over again.
The silence returned, thick but no longer tense.
And in that stillness, something shifted.
Lyra saw the man beneath the Alpha's mask—the grief, the confusion, the weight of a bond he hadn't wanted but could no longer deny.
And for the first time since she'd been taken, she didn't feel like a prisoner.
She felt like a question he didn't know how to answer.
A question that terrified him.
And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone in this confusion as she had thought.