The wall met the back of my head with icy indifference. I bolted upright, shaking off the remnants of a heavy, faint-like sleep, and screamed instantly. The pain in my neck didn't just throb—it lived there, stirring like a red-hot coal, gnawing at the tendons.
Fingers, trembling and damp with sweat, touched my skin. Where yesterday there had been only smooth flesh, a jagged, hot scar had now swollen. A mark. His brand. Cale hadn't just taken me by force in that stifling darkness—he had seared his name into my blood.
The door of the small room creaked, letting in a sliver of gray, dusty light. Ella froze on the threshold, clutching a stack of clean sheets to her chest.
— You're alive...
— Don't come closer.
I tried to cover myself with the blanket, but the collar of my shirt slipped, revealing the crimson swelling. Ella dropped the linens. The fabric hit the stone floor with a dull thud.
— Oh gods, Alina. He actually... Why did he do it?
— Ask him, if you have the courage.
— The whole castle is buzzing. They say he left your room at dawn looking... — she faltered, backing toward the doorframe. — As if he'd strangled a ghost.
— Come here. Help me up.
Ella shook her head, retreating into the corridor. Her fingers feverishly crumpled the edge of her apron.
— I can't. I'm not allowed. You're... marked now. If I touch you, it would be like touching his property. He'll know. He feels everything.
— I am not a thing, Ella! — my voice broke into a rasp. — Give me your hand!
— I'm sorry. I... I'll bring water. Later.
She vanished, leaving the door ajar. The fear radiating from her was almost tangible, but worse than that was the void inside me. Something had changed. In my chest, right under my ribs, a tight knot had formed, its threads leading deep into the castle, toward him.
Heavy footsteps in the corridor made me shrink back. Liam entered without waiting for permission. In his hands was a tray: a bowl of gray porridge, a piece of stale bread, and a mug.
— Put it on the floor and leave.
He ignored the command. The tray was set on a rickety stool. Liam straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back. In the dim light, his eyes flashed with a strange amber tint—exactly like mine when I looked at my reflection in the water vat.
— You need to eat.
— I need all of you to leave me alone.
— That won't happen. Not anymore. Not ever.
Liam stepped closer. I swung to push him away, but my hand froze in mid-air. The mark on my neck flared with such pain that my vision went dark.
— Easy, — Liam tilted his head slightly, studying the bite. — He bit down hard. He wanted to make sure no one could override the scent.
— You speak of him like he's a beast.
— He is a beast. We are all his pack or his prey here. You're on a special list now.
— I won't be his slave. I'm leaving.
Liam gave a short, dry chuckle. There was no mirth in the sound, only exhaustion.
— Leaving? Where? Do you feel that itch in your bones? This isn't just a wound, Alina. It's a hook. He can tug it at any moment, and you'll crawl to his feet even if you have to rub your knees bloody against the stones.
— You don't know me. I'll manage.
— You're already failing. Look at your hands.
I looked down. My fingers were trembling slightly, and I couldn't stop them. But worst of all was that my body... it yearned for the door. Every muscle, every nerve whispered: go to him, it's warm there, there's peace there, there's an end to this pain.
— What is this? — I whispered, gripping the edge of the mattress.
— The Call. The first stage of compulsion. He hasn't even truly started calling you yet; this is just a residual echo of his will.
— Why are you telling me this? Did you come to mock me?
Liam suddenly leaned forward, closing the distance. His gaze bored into mine.
— So you don't nourish illusions. The mark isn't a marriage. It's a claim of territory. He marked you the way one marks boundaries. Now, anyone who looks at you for longer than a second risks their throat.
— And do you risk yours?
— I see more than others. Eat, — he pointed at the porridge. — If you grow weak, the bond will devour your mind faster.
— Leave, Liam.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on my neck for another moment. As he left, I caught him clenching his jaw tight.
Left alone, I tried to stand. My legs were like jelly. The first step was a struggle; the second made me stagger. And then it happened.
A sharp, commanding impulse struck my consciousness like a bolt of lightning. To me.
I didn't hear it with my ears. The voice sounded directly inside my skull, resonating in my spine. The pain in the mark vanished instantly, replaced by an unbearable, itching demand to obey.
— No... — I clawed at the cold stone wall, scraping my nails. — I'm staying here.
My body wouldn't listen. My left foot took a step toward the exit on its own. Then the right. I tried to fall, to collapse on my side, but my muscles tensed with such force that I straightened against my will, like a puppet whose strings had been jerked.
— Please... no...
I stumbled over the threshold. The corridor was empty, except for Ella, who stood frozen at the far end, pressing herself against the wall. She watched me with silent horror as I—glassy-eyed and jerking—trudged toward the main quarters.
— Alina? Where are you going?
I wanted to answer, wanted to scream for her to tie me up, lock me away, kill me—anything but this humiliation. But only a stifled sob escaped my throat. My legs moved precisely, rhythmically.
Closer. You must be closer.
Each step toward him brought a wave of false relief. The pain receded, replaced by a nauseating warmth. It was a betrayal of my own body. My lungs breathed for him. My heart hammered, counting the seconds until the meeting with the one who had destroyed my life.
I passed the guard post. The soldiers didn't even stir, though one, an old mercenary with a scar across his cheek, looked away and spat. They knew. They all knew what happened when an Alpha marks an Omega. To them, I was no longer human. I was a function. A tool to sate his hunger.
The doors to his wing of the castle swung open before me of their own accord. Servants scattered, as if I were plague-ridden. I felt their pity, their disgust, but most of all—their fear.
Faster.
The impulse became more demanding. I broke into a run. My heart was ready to leap out of my chest; blood thrummed in my temples. I hated myself for this speed. Hated my legs for carrying me to my executioner.
I burst into his reception room, nearly knocking over Liam, who was just leaving. He caught me by the shoulders, trying to slow my frantic momentum.
— Alina, stop! Breathe!
— Let go... he... he's pulling...
— Resist! — Liam shook me so hard my teeth clattered. — If you run in there like this, in total submission, you'll never get yourself back.
— I can't! — I screamed in his face, tears springing to my eyes. — My muscles... they're burning! I need... I need to get to him!
— It's not you who needs it. It's the chemistry in your blood screaming. Close your eyes. Imagine a wall.
— Liam, step aside, — Cale's voice came from behind the heavy oak doors. Quiet. Calm. And at that sound, my knees buckled.
Liam slowly released his grip. Something like fury mixed with deep sympathy flashed in his eyes. He stepped back, clearing the way.
— You lost this round, — he whispered so only I could hear. — But don't give him everything. Keep a scrap of your thoughts for yourself.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. As soon as the obstacle that was Liam vanished, the bond dragged me forward. I pushed the doors open.
Cale stood by the window, his back to me. The winter sunlight outlined his broad shoulders. He didn't even turn around, but I felt him smile.
— You kept me waiting.
My voice was gone. I stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, and waited. Waited for his next command, his gaze, his touch. The mark on my neck pulsed one last time and went quiet as soon as the distance between us closed to a few steps.
— Come here.
My legs obeyed before I could even think of resisting. I approached and stopped a step away from him.
— Look at me.
I raised my head. Cale turned slowly. His face was inscrutable, but his eyes blazed with the triumph of a predator who had cornered its prey. He reached out and touched my neck with his fingers, right over the mark.
I flinched. Skin burned under his skin. It wasn't pain—it was something much worse. It was recognition. My body recognized him. My essence reached out to him, acknowledging him as master, while my mind drowned in a scream of loathing.
— See? — he leaned to my ear, his breath scorching my skin. — Now you feel what I feel. We are bound, Alina. To the very end.
— You... you're a monster.
— Perhaps. But I am your monster. And you will do whatever I want. Not because I will force you, but because you won't be able to do otherwise.
He pressed on the scar a little harder. I gasped, clutching his doublet to keep from falling. My fingers clenched the expensive fabric of their own accord.
— What do you want? — I managed to choke out.
— For starters? For you to realize your reality. You are no longer a servant. You are not a free woman. You are my Omega.
Cale let go of my neck and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look directly into his golden, merciless eyes.
— Say it.
— What?
— Say who you belong to.
I gritted my teeth until it hurt. A storm raged inside me. Part of me wanted to spit in his face, but the bond... it coiled around my throat, squeezing, making it hard to breathe. It demanded submission. It demanded I acknowledge the obvious.
— I... — the words stuck in my throat like broken glass.
— Ну же. It will be easier once you admit it. Your body is asking for it, Alina. Don't torture yourself.
He was right. The urge to submit had become an almost physical thirst. As if I were dying of dehydration and he held a cup of water.
— I belong... to you.
Cale exhaled slowly. The tension in his body eased slightly, and the impulse of compulsion in my head weakened.
— Good girl.
He released my chin and walked to the desk as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just ripped out my soul and trampled it.
— Now go. Ella will prepare new quarters for you in this wing. Your old cell anymore.
— I don't want to move.
— That wasn't a question. You have an hour to collect your meager belongings. Liam will help you.
— Is he... your slave too?
Cale froze, the quill not yet touching the paper. He turned a heavy gaze on me.
— Liam is someone who knows his place. I suggest you learn that wisdom from him. Now—out.
I turned and walked to the door. This time my legs were obedient, but heavy as lead. I walked into the reception room where Liam was still waiting, leaning against the wall. He didn't ask what happened. He just looked at my trembling hands and slumped shoulders.
— An hour, — I said to the void in front of me. — I have an hour.
— I'll help with your things.
We walked down the corridor in complete silence. The castle seemed different. The walls seemed to have closed in; the ceiling felt lower. Every servant we passed followed me with a gaze that read like a sentence.
In my small room, I sat on the bed. It still smelled of his smoke, his power. The small, grimy window let in a dim light that now felt like a mockery. This had been my only refuge, and now it was being taken away.
— Don't just sit there, — Liam began packing my few belongings into a canvas sack. — If you're late, he'll be angry. You don't want to see him in a rage now, while the bond is so fresh.
— Why are you helping me? — I looked up at him. — You hate him as much as I do. I can see it.
Liam froze with my spare shirt in his hands. His face distorted for a moment, the mask of calm cracking to reveal a bottomless, scorched void.
— Hate is a luxury we can't afford, Alina. It burns from within, and we need our strength just to breathe.
— Your eyes... they're like mine. Are you an Omega too?
He jerked the sack strings tight, tying the knot.
— I am a messenger. And I advise you to talk less and observe more. In this castle, the walls have ears, and the walls have teeth.
— Ella is afraid to touch me.
— Ella is smarter than she looks. She understands that you are now a lightning rod. All of Cale's anger, all his passion, all his darkness is now directed at you. Who would want to stand near during such a storm?
Liam threw the sack over his shoulder and nodded toward the door.
— Let's go. Time's up.
I stood up, looking at the cold stone walls one last time. My prison was being exchanged for a more luxurious one, but that didn't make it any less of a cage. The mark on my neck itched, reminding me of its owner.
We walked through the passageways, and I felt that with every step toward his quarters, the knot in my chest tightened. It wasn't just a bond—it was a chain, invisible and unbreakable.
When we reached the door of my new quarters—spacious, furnished with heavy furniture and decorated with tapestries—Liam set the sack by the threshold.
— Remember what I said, — he whispered before leaving. — Keep a scrap of your thoughts for yourself. It's the only thing he can't mark.
I closed the door and remained in the silence. The massive canopy bed looked like an altar for sacrifice. I went to the mirror—the first real mirror I had seen in a long time.
A shadow looked back at me from the reflection. Pale skin, a feverish glint in amber eyes, and a crimson, pulsing mark on the neck. I touched the scar with my fingers.
Freedom no longer existed. There was only Cale's will and my body, which had become my greatest enemy. I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging myself, and began to wait. Now my entire life had turned into an endless, agonizing wait for his next call.
Outside the window, the sun was setting, staining the sky the color of fresh blood—exactly like my mark. I closed my eyes, but even in the darkness, I saw his gaze. Cale hadn't just marked my body. He had stolen my future, and the most terrifying part was that a part of me—that treacherous part, driven by ancient instincts—was glad of it.
I curled up on the luxurious bedspread and wept silently, knowing that even these tears now, in a sense, belonged to him.