“Mary is following Sule’s orders and guarding the hallway.”
Rhen’s expression darkened.
Leena opened the door.
“I’ll be back before you have time to become even more unpleasant.”
The door closed quietly behind her, leaving Rhen alone with the heat, the tether, and the unconscious woman whose survival had become an obligation written into his blood.
* * *
In the kitchen, Cole sat angled protectively around the fresh stitches across his abdomen, tossing a rubber ball against the wall in a slow, mindless rhythm.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound cracked through the silence like a metronome for violence.
Across the room, Malakai sat at the scarred wooden table, methodically dragging a curved blade across a whetstone. The rasp of metal against stone carried the same persistent edge as the scent of blood still lingering in the halls.
Dax stood near the secured blood cabinet built into the pantry wall, arms folded across his chest.
The room fell still when Leena entered.
Three predators turned toward her at once.
Cole caught the ball and lowered his hand. Malakai’s blade stilled against the stone. Dax pushed away from the wall.
Their attention sharpened as they took in her pale face, the faint sheen of sweat at her brow, and the hand resting beneath her belly.
Her presence had always commanded something deeper than obedience.
Respect.
Deference.
An unspoken law older than any crown.
Dax’s ice-blue eyes softened by a fraction.
“Leena.”
She gave him a reassuring smile.
“Everything is fine.”
Her voice carried the faintest tremor.
Dax heard it.
Cole saw the stiffness in her posture.
Malakai watched the measured rise and fall of her breathing, his silver eyes missing nothing.
None of them believed her.
