Nora POV
Nora's eyes open to white ceiling.
For a moment she doesn't understand where she is. Her body feels heavy, like it's been filled with stones. Her throat hurts when she swallows. The last thing she remembers is fighting, blood, her father's face, and then nothing. A void where time should be.
She sits up slowly.
The room is huge and nothing like anything she's ever seen. Everything is expensive. The furniture looks like someone actually planned it instead of just keeping things that survived. The walls are painted a soft gray. The windows show mountains in the distance and she realizes with a sick feeling that she's high up. Too high to jump from.
She's in the Alpha's chambers.
The realization hits her like a punch.
The man is sitting in a chair by the window, perfectly still, watching her like he's been waiting for her to wake up. He's massive. Taller than her father was, wider through the shoulders. His dark hair falls across his forehead and his eyes are exactly what she remembers. Silver. Cold. The kind of eyes that belong to someone who's never been afraid of anything in his life.
He stands slowly.
Nora tenses, her body moving into a defensive position before her mind catches up. Every muscle is screaming at her to fight or run, but there's nowhere to go.
"I'm Kade," he says. His voice is smooth like oil. Like death would sound if death could talk. "You're in Blackthorne territory now. You're going to work in my house."
Nora doesn't answer. She's studying him, looking for weakness. There has to be something. Nobody is perfect. Nobody is completely without a flaw.
"You'll serve my household," he continues, walking slowly toward her like he's not afraid she might attack. And why would he be afraid? He's twice her size and she watched him move during the battle. He's not just strong. He's fast in a way that defies what muscles should be able to do. "You'll be useful to me. And as long as you stay useful, you stay alive."
The threat is soft but it's there.
Nora's hands clench into fists. Her heart is hammering against her ribs so hard she thinks it might break through.
"I won't serve you," she says. Her voice sounds small and she hates it. "I won't do anything for you."
Something flickers across his face. It might be amusement.
"Yes you will," he says simply. "Because the alternative is death. Your family is gone. Your pack is scattered. You have no one coming for you. You have no leverage and no choices. You have only me."
The words hit harder than any physical blow.
It's true. She knows it's true. She watched her father die. She felt the moment the Kane pack shattered. There's nobody left. There's nobody who knows she's alive. There's nobody who's going to come save her.
Rage explodes inside her chest.
She moves without thinking, all years of training pouring out of her in one desperate attack. She aims low, trying to sweep his legs out from under him. Her hands curl into claws. She goes for his eyes, his throat, anything that might give her an advantage.
He's already moving before she's even fully committed to the attack.
Nora has never seen anything move that fast. One moment she's lunging at him and the next she's flying backward. Her back hits the bed hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. Before she can recover, he's on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while his body cages hers against the mattress.
She thrashes underneath him but it's useless. He doesn't even look like he's exerting effort. He's barely breathing hard.
His face is close to hers now and she can see the silver of his eyes up close. They're not completely silver. There's something darker underneath, something that looks almost like pain.
"Don't do that again," he says quietly. "I won't always be gentle."
His hand moves to her throat.
Nora expects pain. Expects him to squeeze, to finish what he started in the battlefield. Instead, his fingers rest there lightly, just feeling her pulse. His thumb traces the line of her jaw slowly. It's almost gentle and that's somehow more terrifying than violence would be.
She can feel every point where their bodies touch. The weight of him on top of her. The heat coming off his skin. The way his breath moves against her neck.
"Do you understand?" he asks.
Nora doesn't answer. She can't. Her throat is too dry and her body is doing something she doesn't understand. Something that feels like fear but also doesn't feel like fear at all.
His grip on her throat tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind her that he could.
"Yes," she whispers.
He releases her immediately.
He stands up and walks toward the door like that moment meant nothing to him. Like he didn't just remind her that she's completely at his mercy. That he could kill her with his bare hands and nobody would stop him.
At the door, he pauses.
"A servant will bring you clothes," he says without looking back at her. "You'll eat what's given to you. You'll sleep in the servant quarters. You'll work from dawn until I tell you to stop working. If you try to run, I'll find you. If you try to hurt anyone in this pack, I'll hurt you worse. If you follow the rules, you'll live."
He opens the door.
"One more thing," he adds, finally turning to look at her. His silver eyes find hers across the room. "Don't ever come at me like that again. Because the next time you do, I might not let you go."
Then he's gone.
Nora sits alone on the massive bed in the Alpha's chambers and understands that her life will never be the same. She's not a prisoner in the traditional sense. Prisoners are kept in cells. She'll be kept in plain sight, serving the man who destroyed everything she loved.
She lies back on the pillows and stares at the ceiling.
Her throat still burns where his hand was. But what terrifies her more than that is the feeling that won't go away. The feeling that lingered even after he released her.
The feeling that part of her didn't want him to let go.
Nora closes her eyes and tells herself it's just survival. It's just her body trying to understand the man who holds her life in his hands. It's just the way fear feels when it's mixed with something else she refuses to name.
But as sleep pulls her under, she can still feel the weight of him on top of her. Can still feel his hand on her throat.
And she can't decide if she wants to escape or if she wants him to come back.