Penelope’s POV

There was no humor in his voice. No teasing.

I swallowed. My fingers tightened around the handle of my bag.

I wasn’t sure if he’d turn me back or let me ride.

But I knew one thing, if I was going to survive Daemon, I had to be more than pretty. I had to be useful.

Smart. Quiet. Sharp.

Just like I promised.

So I stood there, trying not to blink, trying not to breathe too loud.

Waiting for his next move.

There was silence, heavy and thick. Like the whole night had paused just to hear what he would say.

Then, without a word, Daemon stepped forward and took the bag right from my hand. His fingers brushed mine for only a second firm and unbothered.

But mine curled instinctively, like they wanted to hold on.

I quickly looked away, hiding the small smile tugging at my lips.

He didn’t send me back.

“You’ll ride with me,” he said. His voice was sharp but lower now.

Then he moved ahead, opened the door to the truck, and waited.

Just stood there, holding it open like it was both an invitation and a command.

I didn’t make him wait.

I slipped past him and climbed in, settling onto the leather seat. The air inside was already thick with tension, but it was warm.

I felt the door close behind me with a soft thunk.

Daemon stepped back and turned to the men scattered around the truck. His voice rang out loud.

“Everyone ready?”

“Yes, Alpha!” they called in one smooth voice.

Lucas was already seated up front in the driver’s seat, eyes focused ahead. His hands rested on the wheel like he was more than ready to tear through the night.

Daemon came around and got in beside me, his body taking up all the space like a wall of quiet strength. The truck shifted slightly under his weight.

In the back compartment, a few soldiers sat, rifles strapped and gear buckled tight. Their faces were hard. Focused. Not one of them looked at me, but I felt the curiosity buzzing behind their silence.

Now, it was just me and Daemon in the back.

The space felt too tight, too intimate.

I stared ahead, hands clasped in my lap, pretending my heart wasn’t beating like crazy. I could feel him beside me without even looking. His scent dark and his presence impossible to ignore.

I had gotten in.

I was riding with him.

Now… I just had to survive the road.

And whatever waited at the end of it.

The drive stretched on for hours. Long roads winding through dark hills and quiet woods. The world outside the window was a blur of trees, shadows, and the occasional flicker of moonlight breaking through the clouds.

Inside the truck, it was silent.

Except for Lucas.

He hummed softly from the driver’s seat. Some old tune I didn’t know, low and calm, like the road didn’t bother him. Like none of this did.

Daemon didn’t speak.

He just sat there arms crossed, eyes sharp, jaw tight.

I sat perfectly still beside him, pretending not to notice how close our arms were. Or how every bump in the road made me lean slightly toward him. Or how the air seemed to grow heavier the longer the silence stretched.

It wasn’t awkward silence.

It was loaded silence.

Like something unspoken sat between us.

We finally pulled up to the riverbank. The truck slowed, then stopped with a soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

The river looked… different.

Not like any river I’d seen. It shimmered under the moonlight, wide and still, with steam curling off its surface like it breathed. Thick trees circled it, and just across the water, a pale mist hung like a curtain, hiding the Northern Watters from view.

A few men stood by the edge, wrapped in dark cloaks, guarding the crossing. I couldn’t see their faces under their hoods, but I could feel their eyes.

Daemon got down first.

He didn’t say anything at first, just walked over to the men. His posture was firm, shoulders squared, like a king stepping into foreign land. They exchanged a few quiet words I couldn’t hear from where I sat, but no one raised a voice. No tension. Just respect.

Then one of the men nodded and pointed toward the boats.

Daemon turned back to us. “Let’s move.”

We all got out. The night air hit my face cool and damp from the river.

Lucas had already moved to the back of the truck to grab some supplies, and the rest of the soldiers stood alert, forming two lines.

Two boats were waiting at the edge of the river.

One was for us, Daemon, me, Lucas, and two guards.

The other one for the remaining men.

I stepped into the boat carefully, trying not to wobble as my boots touched the wooden floor. Daemon reached out just slightly as if he’d catch me if I fell. I didn’t, but I caught that.

Lucas and one of the guards picked up the long wooden paddles. With a push, the boat drifted into the water, smooth and slow.

The river was quiet.

Too quiet.

No frogs. No birds. Not even the wind.

Just the sound of water slipping under the boat and the soft creak of wood with every paddle stroke.

I sat near the front, Daemon behind me. I didn’t look back, but I could feel him there. Watching. Guarding. Thinking.

They paddled for a while with smooth, steady strokes across the thick, glimmering water. The mist began to thin just enough to reveal what lay ahead.

And gods… what a sight.

Rising out of the cliffs like it was carved straight from the bones of the earth, the Nothern Watters fortress towered in the night. Dark stone walls stretched impossibly high, jagged edges sharp as blades. At the top, massive watchtowers crowned with gold-tipped spires pierced the sky.

A heavy wall wrapped around the entire castle like an iron embrace, and behind it, I could just make out moving shadow guards, maybe… or worse.

The fortress itself looked ancient and unshakable, like a monster sleeping with one eye open.

I was still admiring its brutal beauty when the first arrow flew.

A loud hiss, a flash of orange and the arrow sliced past us, landing in the water with a steaming hiss.

“What the” I started, jerking in my seat.

Another arrow followed. This one wasn’t just a warning.

It was fire-tipped.

The sky lit up with a sudden rain of glowing arrows, dozens of them streaking like angry comets straight toward us.

“Get down!” one of the guards shouted.

My heart slammed against my chest as I dropped low in the boat, my arms shielding my head. The heat from the nearest arrow singed the air above me.

Lucas gritted his teeth as he ducked, still paddling hard. “Daemon didn’t send a word. No messenger. No formal seal. They think we’re enemy intruders.”

Of course. The Northern Watters.

They were known for their brutal security, paranoid, ruthless, and unwelcoming to everyone who wasn’t announced like royalty. Their territory was a locked box wrapped in steel and secrets. I’d heard the stories. I just hadn’t expected to live one.

“Keep paddling!” Daemon barked. His claws extended now long and gleaming, catching firelight as he swatted arrows from the air with deadly precision. Any that came too close to me, he knocked aside without even looking like it strained him.

But they weren’t slowing down.

More arrows.

Dozens turned to hundreds.

The sky looked like it was bleeding fire.

I screamed as one arrow skimmed past my shoulder, catching the edge of my dress. I patted it out, my heart hammering so fast I could barely think.

What the hell was I doing here?

Why had I begged to come?

I looked behind us panic slicing through me like a knife.

The other boat.

It was on fire.

Flames licked the edges, swallowing wood like it was paper. The soldiers inside it shouted, jumped, splashed wildly as the boat tipped and flipped. One by one, they plunged into the river.

“No, no, no” I whispered, horror rising in my throat.

Lucas didn’t stop paddling.

Daemon's arm moved like a weapon, smacking two more arrows out of the air.

Then ours caught fire too.

A sharp crackle.

Smoke curled at my feet.

For a second, I froze.

But Lucas acted fast, grabbing the water jug near his seat and dousing the flames before they could spread. The fire hissed and died, but the air still smelled like burned wood and panic.

“Daemon,” I gasped, my voice shaking. “What do we do?”

He turned toward me, calm in a way that only made me more scared.

His eyes were sharp. Focused.

“Penelope,” he said, voice deadly low. “When I count to three… you jump.”

I blinked. “What?”

“One.”

“Wait—wait, what? Jump where?!”

“Two.”

I looked down at the dark river. It felt like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

“Daemon”

“Three.”