Thorne was awake.

But that didn’t mean I was suddenly free from my prison.

I couldn’t pressure Killian to let me go, not after swearing I would earn his trust. Not after everything.

The night after learning about Thorne’s awakening was unbearably long, hollow, and suffocating.

Silence hung over the mansion like a living thing. Even the half-moon casting pale shadows through the iron bars of my window seemed muted, its light unable to stir a sound. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed. Everything felt… numb.

I had no idea how the news of Thorne’s state had traveled, but one thing was certain, all occupants of the mansion and possibly the Alpha must have known. And judging by the way Killian looked, he seemed as if he had stepped straight out of some reform prison himself, a storm caged inside a man.

Amidst the calm, the cool air that might have lulled me into sleep only tightened my unease. I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t stop wondering what the next day would hold. And fear of Killian lingered like a shadow at my side.

Harry seemed no longer concerned with my problems, I didn’t know if it was deliberate or if he simply knew better than to intervene.

Slowly, the next day arrived.

The sun rose with its daily authority, spilling golden warmth into the mansion. Through the bars of my cage, I felt its rays brushing against my skin, gentle and almost comforting.

“It’s a hopeful day,” I murmured, closing my eyes and savoring the rare touch of sunlight.

I melted into its warmth for a few precious moments, until I felt a presence, deliberate, heavy, and intimidating.

Opening my eyes, I found Killian watching me from a distance.

Immediately, I rose and bowed. “A beautiful morning, my lord,” I said, my voice calm, measured, and steady. Angelic, almost.

My voice was my charm, my only shield.

His brow furrowed in surprise as he stepped closer. He crossed his arms and scoffed.

“You called me that yesterday,” he said, voice low, careful, calculating. “What is with the sudden humility?”

My mind raced. I had to answer quickly. I tilted my head slightly, meeting his piercing gaze.

“Um… after you left, and the few days you spent away, I did some thinking,” I said carefully, humbly. “I realized I’m here because of you. I could have been killed by wild animals… or other wolves. But you saw me by the lake and rescued me. I owe you my life. I should show nothing but appreciation.”

His eyes glimmered. A slow, satisfied smile crept across his face. His hands moved from his chest to his hips, and pride radiated from him.

“You should have realized that sooner. I’m technically your god,” he boasted, letting out a chortle.

“You’re learning something,” he added, his tone triumphant.

“Yes, my lord,” I murmured obediently.

Without another word, he dashed back to his inner chambers and returned with a bunch of keys. He approached my cage and unlocked it, but remained in the doorway.

“Do what I ask,” he said, the faintest smile still lingering on his lips, “and you won’t leave here as a prisoner.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” I whispered, bowing my head. “I was foolish.”

“I won’t let you leave this chamber yet,” he said, stepping aside, “but you may walk around. Many handmaids would wish for this privilege.”

I flinched inwardly. Handmaids… What an insult. My life had been compared to theirs once again, even in this gilded cage.

For the next two days, I lived like a favored prisoner. I didn't talk about Thorne, it was too dangerous, and Killian made no sexual advances. I followed every command: running his bath, sitting beside him as he ate, offering water to wash his face, and speaking with utmost humility. I had become his personal maid.

It was a position I loathed. It reminded me of early childhood, before my parents, when survival meant bending, obeying, and hiding my will.

But I promised myself , this would not last. I only needed the right moment to act.

Killian’s moods were volatile. When angry or frustrated, he became unpredictable, dangerous even. I carefully withheld most of my thoughts, staying silent until the third day.

Meanwhile, Thorne’s awakening had left him volatile and violent. Guards delivering food were attacked. Some returned terrified; others injured. No one dared enter the underground prison, not even to bring water.

If Killian allowed him to starve, it would be in defiance of the Alpha and the elders of Bloodmoon. Thorne had been granted forbidden strength, yet Killian could not touch him unless provoked.

Killian stormed into his chambers that day, his frustration obvious even from afar. He flopped into his chair, slamming his fists against its arms.

“I would just let him die,” he roared, his voice shaking.

I had grown cautious enough to speak to him directly now. I took a deep breath and said softly, “My lord… you seem distressed.”

I had reduced myself to the lowest point, but I had a purpose.

“Thorne attacked the guards again,” he snarled.

I waited, silent, letting my mind churn through possible strategies. Then, cautiously, I suggested, “Maybe you should send a stronger guard… maybe Harry?”

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing, before shaking his head. “I can’t let Harry go down there. He’s too important,” he sighed. “If he’s determined to starve to death, then so be it.”

We sat in tense silence. His mind was elsewhere; mine, plotting.

Finally, I seized my chance. “Then send me,” I said, steady, determined.

Killian blinked. For two long seconds, he didn’t respond — as if the idea had not even registered.

“What…?” he finally asked, lifting his gaze.

“Send me to the underground prison,” I repeated.

“You must be insane,” he scoffed, brushing off my suggestion. “He attacked strong, armored guards. You think you would be different?”

“I know he can’t kill me,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I can’t fully control my power yet, but it erupts when I’m in danger. Let me be the chain that binds Thorne. I can hold him even if it goes badly.”

Killian’s gaze bore into me, a dangerous, habitual stare. I did not flinch.

Slowly, a malicious smile curved his lips. His eyes gleamed with approval, just faintly enough to make my heart race.

For a moment, I dared to hope. And yet… I knew that stepping into that underground prison meant stepping into the storm itself.

And whatever came next, there was no turning back.