The carriage was unlike anything Layla had ever seen before—massive, black, and lined with steel-like shadow. It pulsed with magic, older than any she'd ever felt. No windows. Only darkness. Only him.
She sat across from him, her back straight despite the chains hidden beneath her silks digging into her skin.
He hadn't said a word since they left.
Not one.
But his presence devoured the space between them.
Kael sat in silence, leaned back in his seat, gloved hands resting on his thighs like a predator waiting for the perfect strike. The movement of the carriage didn't bother him; he sat there as though he was part of the shadows themselves—unmoving, unreadable.
But inside?
Inside, something was raging.
She was too quiet. Too still. No protest. No trembling. No tearful begging.
Just silence.
He hated it.
Because that meant she had already been broken. Before he could touch her. Before he could shatter her on his own terms.
And that thought—it made his jaw tighten and his claws ache to surface.
He studied her from the corner of his eye.
So small.
Her wrists were bruised, no matter how much illusion they'd poured over her. Her body was far too thin. She flinched at sudden noises. And yet... her spine remained stiff. Proud.
Something about her screamed resistance, even if her voice was gone.
His beast stirred.
A low, feral hunger building in his gut. One part of him wanted to bury his nose in her throat, to inhale her fully, to know every scar they gave her. Another part—it was darker. Primal. Crush her under him until she could no longer be mistaken for weak.
But something was off.
She smelled… wrong.
Not bad. No, not at all. In fact, she smelled divine. Like moonlight, like ancient spring waters and snow-dusted lilies. But something underneath it—something was muted. Buried.
Her scent was… dimmed.
Cloaked.
Like they'd buried her wolf.
Or worse—stripped her of it.
And if that was the case…
They gave me a wolf-less daughter?
His claws punched through his gloves.
His men, riding beside the carriage, tensed as the air inside turned suffocating. Several of them faltered in their step but didn't stop. They knew better than to interrupt him when he was like this.
Kael's silver eyes snapped back to Layla.
Her hands were trembling now.
She must have felt it—the monster inside him waking.
"Tell me something," he finally said, voice like smoke over steel. "Do you even know what they've done to you?"
She flinched. Just barely.
But she didn't answer.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching her with predatory curiosity.
"I can smell their lies on you," he said. "I can smell your pain. But I don't smell your wolf."
Still nothing.
But her lower lip trembled.
That was all he needed.
Kael rose to his feet slowly, the carriage groaning under his movement. He crossed the space between them and crouched before her.
Her breathing hitched.
He reached out—not to touch her—but to place a finger under her chin, lifting her face.
Those eyes. Gods, those eyes.
Golden, speckled with light, wide with something he couldn't place—fear, defiance, sorrow. But no hatred. No disgust.
Only quiet strength.
He tilted her face to the side, inspecting her neck, brushing back her hair. There was a mark faintly glowing under her skin, too faint to be fresh. Not a mate mark. Something else.
A curse?
A bind?
Or maybe... a seal.
His chest tightened.
…
"You've been bound," he murmured, mostly to himself. "They're hiding something. Something I want."
She looked away, but not before he saw it—the flash of rage in her eyes. Quiet. Controlled. Buried so deep it took effort to see.
But it was there.
She's not dead inside. Not fully.
That was enough for him.
He stood again, towering over her.
"Rest," he said flatly. "The Shadows are still a day away."
Layla swallowed but nodded slightly, curling back into her corner.
Kael returned to his seat, but not before one final look.
He would uncover every secret.