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I refuse to examine why.

My Alpha takes advantage of my internal struggle and breaks out of the cage I’ve been fighting to keep him in, more than happy to call me on my shit.

You know why. You can lie to all of them, but you can’t lie to yourself. Can’t lie to me. Fucking coward!

I pour another glass of whiskey and toss it back. I don’t have time to shove this fucker back in his cage, but he must have made his point because he slinks away without any more of a struggle.

Before I can wonder what the hell that’s all about, the argument at my back escalates. Soren lunges, shoving his face into Gav’s and snarling like a feral animal.

“Absolutely the fuck not. As her Mate, I forbid it. I’ll leave right the fuck now, and I’ll take her with me.”

The male stands protectively in front of his Omega like a mountain of wrath. Steady. Unmoveable.

Something about it pisses me off.

“Need I remind you of the Sovereign Accords?” Gav asks. A muscle ticks in Soren’s jaw before he throws back his head, laughing in disbelief.

“The Accords haven’t been upheld officially in decades,” he spits. “They’re outdated and in need of a massive overhaul. And regardless, they’re there to prevent our Species from raiding each other's dungeons. Not to give you the legal right to detain my Mate so she can rot in one.”

“What are the Sovereign Accords?” Idril asks, her soft voice twisting through the air between us.

“They’re a binding law between Species,” I answer, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Centuries ago, delegates for humans, vampires, and wolven created and signed them during the Blood Wars. They ensure each Species' sovereignty and right to justice. Which means the wolven have no claim to you so long as you remain our prisoner. Bond or no Bond.”

The Omega nods, sinking back and warily shutting her eyes in defeat.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Soren snaps.

I shrug. “If we let you walk out of here with her, it violates the same treaty that’s kept the vampires from your throats for centuries. Is that what you’re proposing, Alpha Heir? You truly want to drag your entire Pack into a war?”

Soren looks like he’s struggling not to shift while simultaneously fantasizing about ripping my throat out with his teeth. The rumbling in his chest grows louder. His eyes brighten and don’t turn back.

His second stands, readying himself to intercede.

“Try it,” I dare, sick of this fucking game. “I’ll send your head to your father after I bleed you dry. Your Mate will be all alone without any protection.”

“What,” he bites, “are you suggesting, then?”

I shrug. “You can leave her here alone⁠—”

“Not fucking happening.”

“Then your only other option is to stay. You can both rot together.”

Kane sucks in a sharp breath. “Ye’d have my Alpha give himself over tae a cage?” His voice is lethal. Accent thicker, like he’s too pissed to regulate it.

“I suppose he could make a new home in the forest behind the compound. Spend his nights praying to your moon for the chance to see his Omega again someday.”

Kane rounds on his Alpha. “Ye cannae be considering this farce, surely.”

Soren swallows thickly. His eyes bounce from his Second, to me, then land on Idril—who’s eerily still, vacant gaze glued to the rug at her feet, fingers tangled into the bottom of her shirt, just as still as the rest of her.

My fucking chest tightens further.

“I won’t leave her,” Soren answers, eyes locked on his Mate. “If that means staying with her in a fucking cell, then I will.”

“Yer Da’—”

“Will understand,” he says, and it’s clear his decision’s been made even before he turns to me and says, “Do what you have to do. But I want your word that you won’t separate us. I also need the freedom to meet with my Second daily.”