Kaelen's POV
I extended the tablet toward her once more, my fingers steady against the cracked surface.
"Will you accept my conditions?"
Her hands trembled. The movement was subtle, barely perceptible, but I caught it. Fear was consuming her composure now. The harsh truth was sinking in. She was trapped here with me, regardless of her preferences, and accepting that reality would make this arrangement simpler.
For both of us.
She stared down at the device. At the spider web of fractures across the screen. At the document that would dictate every aspect of her future existence.
Then her gaze drifted to the window again. To the endless expanse of barren terrain stretching beyond.
I watched her crumble. Witnessed the precise instant when her determination began to shatter. Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing became rapid and shallow. Her eyes grew wet with tears she refused to let fall out of sheer stubbornness.
She was going to sign. I was certain of it.
"I will leave."
The declaration emerged barely above a whisper. Completely defeated.
She reached toward the door handle.
I stared at her in disbelief. Waited for her to reconsider. To surrender her pride. To seize the tablet and scrawl her signature across that contract so we could proceed with our arrangement.
She pulled the door open.
Blazing sunlight poured into the vehicle. Scorching and brilliant and merciless. The temperature beyond had to be approaching ninety degrees. The kind of oppressive heat that made the atmosphere dance above the asphalt.
Lyra stepped outside.
She positioned herself alongside the roadway in that wedding gown. The pristine white dress that had been intended for her sister. Dirt already stained the hemline from her time kneeling at the ceremony. Her carefully arranged hair was coming undone from whatever elaborate style it had been. She appeared tiny out there. Vulnerable.
Defiant.
I gazed at her through the open doorway. Attempted to comprehend what was unfolding. This woman who had allegedly schemed and connived and used every resource available to secure marriage to me was now choosing to abandon everything. To confront inevitable peril and potential death instead of signing a document that would provide her with protection and stability she had no right to expect.
Nothing about this made sense.
For someone who had invested tremendous effort into ensuring she became my wife, she certainly resisted extensively.
I had been convinced she would accommodate my every demand. That she would capitulate immediately when I applied pressure. That this entire rebellious performance was merely theater she would abandon once she recognized she wasn't losing what she had conspired to obtain.
Yet there she stood outside my vehicle. In the middle of absolute nowhere. Possessing nothing except the garments she wore and her stubborn pride.
Brooks glanced at me. His expression conveyed uncertainty. Awaiting instructions.
I settled back into my seat, allowing the leather upholstery to support my weight. Took another swallow of whiskey.
This was theatrical manipulation. It had to be. She was executing some calculated strategy. Attempting to generate guilt within me. Trying to coerce me into better treatment by pretending indifference.
Instead of behaving like the obsessed Omega she truly was, she was pursuing a different approach.
I smiled.
Excellent. If she preferred games, we would play games.
I possessed patience. I could outlast her resolve. She would return within the hour, crawling back and pleading for readmittance to the car. Begging me to transport her to Ironfang where she would find safety and sustenance and protection.
And when she did, I would ensure she completely understood exactly what her theatrical stunt had cost her.
I consumed more alcohol. The whiskey was flawless. Exquisite. I relished it while observing Lyra standing motionless in the blazing sun.
"Secure the door and drive."
Brooks's head whipped around. "Alpha—"
"Did I speak unclearly?"
"No, Alpha."
He reached for the door. Began pulling it closed.
I observed the exact moment Lyra realized what was happening. Her eyes widened dramatically. Her mouth parted as though she intended to speak. Probably to retract everything. To beg me to halt.
I smiled directly at her. Ensured she could see it clearly. Made certain she understood that I recognized exactly what manipulation she was attempting.
The door sealed with a definitive click.
Brooks activated the locking mechanism. The sound resonated through the quiet interior.
"Drive."
The chauffeur shifted into gear. We began moving forward.
I monitored Lyra through the tinted glass. Watched her take a step toward the vehicle as though she might pursue us. Then freeze. As if remembering her pride.
She remained standing in the center of the road. Becoming increasingly distant in the rear window. Her white dress blazed brilliantly against the dark pavement and verdant foliage.
Brooks rotated in his seat. His face had gone pale. Concerned.
"Alpha, she is an Omega. She cannot—"
"I know precisely what she is."
My voice emerged cold enough that Brooks flinched visibly. He turned forward and remained silent.
I finished my whiskey. Placed the empty glass in the holder. Ice clinked against crystal.
In the distance, Lyra had become merely a white dot. Still standing there. Still too obstinate to chase after us as she should have.
Part of me anticipated feeling something. Guilt perhaps. Or worry. She was my designated mate after all, regardless of my reluctance. The bond was supposed to inspire protectiveness. Supposed to make me concerned for her welfare.
But I felt nothing.
Just cold satisfaction that she would finally comprehend what defying me meant. What it cost to refuse when I expected obedience.
She would learn.
One way or another, she would learn.
And if she failed to reach civilization? If something happened to her in that heat and wilderness?
Well. That would resolve many of my problems, wouldn't it.
The limousine accelerated. The road extended ahead, leading toward Ironfang. Leading home.
I poured another whiskey and tried avoiding thoughts of the woman in the white dress standing alone under the sun.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Because the instant the glass reached my lips, something changed. A subtle pressure at my mind's edge—the mate bond, the one I had been pretending was irrelevant—flickered. One moment it was present, faint but constant, the irritating hum of her existence. The next moment, nothing. Like someone had severed a cord straight through my chest.
I blinked and straightened abruptly. My grip tightened around the glass. Cold whiskey splashed across my knuckles, but I didn't notice. I reached inward again, instinctively, toward the bond. Still nothing. Just strange emptiness where she should be.
"She's blocking it," I muttered. The words emerged quieter than intended, almost to myself. "Little Omega believes she can continue playing games."
But my stomach disagreed. It twisted hard, cold and tight. What if that wasn't a block? What if that wasn't sulking. What if this was...gone.
I snapped toward Brooks. "Stop the car."
He twisted around, eyes wide. "Alpha?"
"I said stop the car!" My voice cracked like a whip. The whiskey glass struck the floor, spilling dark amber across the carpet. "Now!"
The driver jumped at the sound. The limousine screeched as it decelerated, tires grinding gravel at the roadside. Brooks fumbled for the lock button, but I had already lunged forward and hit it myself.
The door clicked open. Scorching air flooded in, carrying scents of sun-baked asphalt and pine.
I shoved out of the seat, scanning the road behind us. It curved out of sight between trees, empty except for shimmering heat.
"Alpha," Brooks said carefully, "you instructed me to drive. We are miles away already."
I ignored him. My pulse hammered against my throat, loud enough to overwhelm the engine's idle. The mate bond still wasn't there. Not even a whisper. Just dead silence.
She should have been a speck on the horizon by now, but I couldn't locate her. No white dress. No movement. Nothing.
I seized Brooks by the collar, dragging him halfway from his seat. "Turn the car around," I said, each word slow and precise. "Now."
He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, Alpha."
The limousine swung in a sharp U-turn, tires spitting gravel. My eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, searching for any glimpse of her. The sun glared off the windshield, making my vision blur, but I didn't blink.
All I could think was, She shouldn't be able to block like that. Not her. Not an Omega.
And if it wasn't blocking...