[Her POV]
The morning light slanted across the curtains, thin as a knife edge. It felt like the air itself was holding its breath. The quiet should have been peaceful — birds, the faint hum of the city far away — but every sound only made the silence deeper.
I was washing a cracked mug in the sink when I felt it — that soft, electric pulse at the back of my neck. The mark. It wasn't painful anymore, but it throbbed, like something buried alive under my skin trying to wake.
Leonardo hadn't spoken since dawn. He was sitting by the window, one leg bent, wrapped in a loose white shirt that made his scars more visible. His hair was messy, silver against the pale light, his expression unreadable.
I wanted to say something — thank you or how are you — but the words turned to dust in my throat. Ever since he returned from the battlefield, there was something different in the air around him. It was thicker. Wilder. His pheromones weren't overpowering like before; instead, they lingered low and heavy, threading through the room until breathing felt like inhaling heat.
He looked at me once — just once — and I froze. It wasn't even a glare. It was the way a storm looks at the world before it breaks.
I turned away, focusing on the mug, pretending that I didn't feel the bond tug at my chest.That I didn't hear the whisper at the back of my mind — mine.
The mark pulsed again. I almost dropped the mug. "Stop it," I muttered under my breath, pressing a towel against my neck as if I could smother the phantom warmth there.
He stirred. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," I lied quickly.
His gaze lingered for a moment too long. Then he stood up, moving with the kind of grace that made my nerves hum. "You should stay inside today," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
The answer wasn't angry — it was controlled. And that was worse. Leonardo Ivankov only controlled himself when he was close to losing it.
I waited until he left the room before exhaling shakily. Every instinct screamed that something was building inside him — guilt, possessiveness, maybe fear — I didn't know. But the mark knew. It responded to his tension, to his distance, to the storm that lived behind those cold eyes.
I needed air.
So when evening fell, I ignored his warning.
[Leonardo's POV]
She thought I didn't know. That I didn't feel the way her scent shifted when she lied.That I didn't hear the faint click of the door when she left.
I did.
The moment the lock turned, the mark under my skin burned like molten fire. My wolf stirred — a low, restless growl deep in my chest. She's outside. Alone.
I dragged a hand down my face, trying to breathe through it. The battlefield hadn't broken me, but this bond might. I could still smell the iron on my hands, the blood of traitors who thought rebellion meant freedom. And now, that same bloodlust stirred when I thought of her scent mingling with another Alpha's air.
My reflection in the glass looked unfamiliar. The scar across my cheek. The shadow in my own eyes. The man who had once been called a King now looked more like a beast trying to remember how to stand upright.
You marked her, the wolf inside whispered.It wasn't supposed to happen.Then unmark her.I closed my eyes. I can't.
The bond tugged sharply — pain, fear, adrenaline. Not mine. Hers.
And in that instant, the beast didn't think — it moved.
[Her POV]
The town square was quieter than usual. I'd gone there to buy medicine, maybe flowers — something ordinary to drown out the chaos in my head. The market lights flickered, yellow against the dark.
That's when I smelled it.
A scent I hadn't encountered in months. Bitter musk, heavy cologne, and the faint trace of alcohol that used to linger on the bed sheets.
No.
I turned sharply. And there he was.
My ex-husband.
He looked thinner, but those same predatory eyes recognized me even before his mouth did. "I thought that scent was familiar," he said softly, smiling like a knife. "So it was you."
My blood turned cold. "You're mistaken."
"Am I? You think I wouldn't recognize my Omega? Even after all this time?"
People were starting to glance our way, but no one interfered. His pheromones rolled off him like smoke, suffocating, toxic. My own instincts rebelled, pushing back, but the mark on my nape flared hot — protective, angry.
It wasn't my fear that answered the threat.It was his.
Leonardo's scent hit the square like thunder.
Every Alpha within range froze.
I didn't see him at first — only felt the air pressure change, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then he was there — boots silent, eyes burning like molten silver, a blade gleaming faintly under his coat.
My ex took a step back, trying to hide his trembling. "Y–You—"
Leonardo didn't even speak. He just looked at him — one glance, cold and predatory.The kind of look that didn't need words to say I could end you.
I'd seen Alphas fight before, but never like this. The tension between them was primal, sharp enough to cut through the air.
"Leave," Leonardo finally said, voice deep and quiet.
"You can't order me—"
Leonardo moved.
One blink and he was gone — then behind him, hand around his throat, pressing him against the wall. "Say her name again," he growled, "and I'll remind you what happens when you touch what's mine."
"Leonardo!" I gasped, stepping forward, but my voice trembled.
The ex's face turned red, panic replacing arrogance. "Y-your Highness—"
Leonardo's grip tightened. His pheromones flooded the space — dominance, fury, possession. Every nerve in my body responded; the mark burned, my knees nearly gave out.
I reached for him, desperate. "Please. Let him go."
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then, slowly, his fingers unclenched.
The ex collapsed to the ground, gasping. He scrambled away, tripping over himself, vanishing into the shadows without another word.
Leonardo didn't chase him. He just stood there, breathing hard, the air still trembling around him. His eyes met mine — and for the first time, I saw not the Alpha King, but the beast underneath, barely leashed.
"Why didn't you stay inside?" he said quietly, but the restraint in his tone made it worse.
"I didn't know—"
"You knew." His hand found my wrist, not hard, but firm enough to anchor me in place. "You knew what could happen."
"I'm not your prisoner."
His jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his thumb brushed the edge of my wrist — soft, trembling. "No," he said finally, voice low. "But you are mine."
The words weren't a command. They were a confession.
And I didn't know which frightened me more — the danger outside, or the darkness blooming inside both of us.
[Leonardo's POV]
Later, I watched her sleep. The city outside was silent, but the mark glowed faintly under her skin, a pale crescent of warmth.
She didn't know yet — how close I came to losing control. How close I came to killing that man.
My hands still shook. Not from fear — but from restraint.
I leaned back against the window, closing my eyes. The wolf inside was pacing again. You can't protect her forever.I can try.And when your own darkness turns on her?
I looked at her again — her breath soft, her fingers curled against the blanket.
The mark pulsed once, in rhythm with my heart.
And I knew.
The real danger wasn't the rebels, or her ex, or the world outside.
It was me.