The knock ca again. She didn’t answer it.
Jasmine sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze sharp and unmoving on the door. She had no interest in playing dress-up for a monster. She didn’t care how fine the silverware was or how grand the plates looked. Nothing about this place felt real. Or safe.
But the door creaked open anyway.
Three maids entered quietly, heads bowed as though they expected her to attack. The first one—a girl with a long braid and trembling hands—held a gown in her arms. It was a soft burgundy, with gold embroidery curling up the sleeves like flas. The kind of thing she might have loved once, when she was still free. When her body wasn’t aching and her cheek wasn’t swollen from Leviathan’s slap.
Jasmine’s lips pressed into a tight line.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
The girls moved quietly, efficiently. They brushed her hair, braided it in a loose crown. They dabbed sothing cold against her bruised cheek. Jasmine flinched, but said nothing. The dress was slid over her arms and tightened at the waist. They placed slippers on her feet.
She didn’t thank them. She didn’t even look at them.
Once they left, Jasmine stood and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her reflection looked like a ghost. Hollow eyes. A face she barely recognized. She touched her belly again, the only thing grounding her to reality. To hope. The baby shifted slightly beneath her palm.
"You are not staying here," she whispered to herself, voice low and firm. "You will not die in this place. You will get out."
Even if she had to tear the entire fortress down with her bare hands.
⸻
The great hall was warm, a sharp contrast to the chill that hung in her room. The table was already set when she arrived—golden plates, tall goblets, flickering candles casting soft glows on everything. A feast laid out before her like so twisted peace offering.
She did not sit until he arrived.
Alpha Hunter entered with the confidence of a man who believed the world bent for him. Cloaked in black again, a dark pendant resting against his chest. His sharp eyes took her in slowly—her stiff shoulders, her tight jaw, the bruise still darkening her cheek.
He said nothing about it.
Instead, he gestured to the seat across from him. "Please."
Jasmine sat. Slowly.
She didn’t touch the food.
He did.
He cut into his at without looking up, the scrape of his knife against the plate breaking the silence.
"I imagine you’re not hungry," he said finally.
"Not particularly."
"Pity. I ordered this especially for you."
"Next ti, order freedom."
He chuckled. Not insulted. Not fazed. "Still so sharp. You’ll dull eventually."
"I’d rather die."
Hunter’s fork paused mid-air, then lowered again.
They sat in silence for a mont, the candles between them flickering like old secrets.
"I never intended for this to be cruel," he said.
Jasmine looked at him like he’d grown horns. "You kidnapped ."
"I kept you alive," he corrected. "Would you have preferred I left you for dead?"
She said nothing.
Hunter set down his cutlery. "I understand your hatred. But hatred clouds judgnt. It limits power. I want to offer you sothing else. Control. A future."
"You an submission."
"I an survival. Safety. Perhaps even influence—if you’re wise enough to accept it."
She shook her head. "None of that matters unless I know Xaden is okay."
"You already have his crest," Hunter said calmly. "His scent. He is here. He is breathing. That’s more than you’d have gotten anywhere else."
"You still won’t let see him?"
"Not yet. But... perhaps you need to understand."
He stood.
"Co. I want to show you sothing."
Jasmine hesitated, her gut twisting. But eventually, she rose.
She followed him out of the great hall, down a winding corridor and through a narrow gate. The path outside opened into the lower courtyard, bathed in moonlight. It was quiet. Guarded but calm.
He led her past the walls, to a small field behind the training grounds.
There, tied to a wooden post, stood a horse. A stunning black mare with a white star on her forehead. Her mane shimred like silk under the moonlight. The horse turned its head slowly, calm and proud.
Jasmine stared, her breath catching. "She’s beautiful."
"She’s all I have left," Hunter said softly.
The words startled her.
"She belonged to soone I cared about. A long ti ago."
Jasmine glanced at him. There was sothing in his voice. A crack. Sothing buried deep, half-rotted and full of grief.
"What happened to them?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Hunter looked away. "The past is in the past."
"But it still haunts you."
He didn’t answer.
Jasmine looked back at the horse. For a mont, she forgot where she was. Forgot that this was the sa man who’d held her prisoner, who had n like Leviathan under his command. In this light, under this sky, he almost looked... human.
And then he shattered the illusion.
"I attacked Xaden because I wanted you."
She blinked, stunned.
"What?" Her stomach flipped. "No. No. That’s not—"
And then she paused feeling dazed. "What do you an you attacked Xaden for ."
"What do you think?" He asked.
Jasmine stepped back. "You’re insane."
He didn’t follow. He let her retreat.
"I don’t want you," she hissed. "I don’t want your protection. And I sure as hell don’t want your pity."
Hunter’s expression didn’t change. "I didn’t ask what you wanted."
She stared at him, fire and panic battling in her chest.
"You don’t get to rewrite fate just because you want it," she whispered. "You don’t get to ruin lives just to make yourself feel better."
"I never said I believed in fate," he said quietly.
Then he turned, walking back toward the castle without looking at her again.
Jasmine stood frozen in the moonlight, her heart thundering in her chest.
And for the first ti since she had been taken, fear and confusion twisted together.
Because so terrible part of her wasn’t sure what scared her more—
That he wanted her.
Or that part of her... understood why.
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