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Only Caelan.
After hours of thinking, I have a thousand questions and one thing I know for certain.
I’m going to protect him, no matter what. The loyalty I feel for him is unnaturally strong. Absolute in its intensity. I don’t know what his plans are to stop my father, but I know I crossed an invisible line last night. One there’s no coming back from.
He’s trying to keep my father from doing something bad, and I’m going to do whatever I can to support him.
I just wish I knew what my father’s involved in. I don’t know if I can help Caelan, but I’ll try if he asks. I can’t remain a naive girl living with my head in the sand anymore.
If it’s a choice between Caelan and my father, I choose Caelan. There really is no choice.
He’s mine, and I’m his.
My father’s never given me a reason to be loyal outside of fear. Fear is only a good motivator when you have something to lose.
I have nothing left.
Shade uncoils from his sleeping position, and the sudden movement breaks me out of my thoughts. His head swings toward my closed door, and his eyes narrow, tail lashing in a chaotic rhythm.
Without warning, he bares his teeth, backing up and emitting a low rumbling shriek that sounds strange coming from a cat. He flicks yellow eyes toward me, spins, and dashes out the open balcony door.
Something is wrong.
The reason for his immediate departure becomes clear a moment later, when I hear footfalls coming down the hallway toward my room. I can tell who it is by the heavy, clipped cadence of his expensive Italian leather loafers on the marble.
Father.
Foolish hope balloons in my chest. Maybe he’s coming to let me out. Or feed me.
Oh, Fates, please, please let him have food. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
The thought of a meal makes my stomach cramp. Saliva gathers on my tongue, and I force it down, praying to whoever might be listening that he’s bringing me food.
When he stops in front of my door, he doesn’t immediately come in like he normally does. After a few long seconds of nothing but silence, I frown.
What is he—
BANG!
The doors fly open so hard they slam into the walls with a deafening crack before bouncing back and nearly catching my father in the face where he stands.
A startled hand flies to my chest, and I instinctively scramble back.
My father seethes, looking like a demon torn straight from my nightmares.
His fists are clenched, his face is red, and a vein throbs along the side of his forehead as his eyes dart around my empty room like he’s searching for something.
They land on me and narrow dangerously.
I recoil, bare my throat, and squeeze my eyes shut. I know what to do when he gets mad, and my body reacts on autopilot. I make myself as small as possible and stay silent, just like my mother taught me years ago.
Blood pounds in my ears.
Gods, he’s angry. I can practically feel the rage rolling off of him. The pheromones he’s releasing are so thick I can barely think through the smothering weight of them. His scent is burnt. Bitter. I’ve only seen him this furious once before—when I emerged as an Omega.
Father’s anger has always been a cool, calculated thing. Like a snake, coiling around you slowly, letting you believe you’re safe until the moment it lunges, burying its fangs in your throat and pumping you full of venom.
This is not that cold anger. This is incandescent rage.
