Ryker stared at the key in my hand, his molten gold eyes narrowed to slits. He didn't move, didn't speak. He was a predator, coiled and wary, assessing a trap he couldn't yet comprehend. The silence stretched, thick with suspicion.

I understood. Why would he believe me?

Slowly, so as not to spook him, I bent down and placed the heavy iron key on the cold stone floor, about halfway between us. Then I took three steps back, raising my empty hands to shoulder height. It was a universal sign of surrender in my world, a gesture meant to show I was unarmed and not a threat. Here, I wasn't so sure what it meant.

He watched my every move, his gaze flickering from my face, to my hands, to the key. After a long, tense moment that felt like an eternity, he finally moved. He didn't walk towards the key. Instead, he used the length of his own chain, hooking the end of it around the key's loop and dragging it towards him across the floor. Clever. He never put himself in a vulnerable position.

As he worked the lock on his first wrist, his eyes never left me. They were burning holes into my soul, daring me to make a move, to reveal the punchline to this cruel joke. The lock clicked open. Then the second.

The moment the last silver chain fell away, clattering onto the floor, his power slammed into me. It was a physical wave of raw, untamed Alpha energy, a crushing force that buckled my knees and stole the air from my lungs. It was terrifying and, to the traitorous wolf inside me, utterly intoxicating.

I braced myself for the attack. For him to cross the room in a blur and snap my neck.

But he didn't.

He stood there, rubbing his raw, chafed wrists, his gaze fixed on me. It was a look I couldn't decipher, a maelstrom of hate, confusion, and something else I couldn't name. Without a single word, he turned and strode out of the room, his bare feet silent on the stone.

The heavy wooden door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.

I collapsed onto the floor, my body trembling, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A faint shimmer in the corner of my vision drew my attention. The game-like panel was visible again.

**Ryker Blackwood:** Affinity: -495 (Abject Hatred)

It was a ridiculously small change. Five points. But it wasn't -500 anymore. It was a start.

Outside in the corridor, Ryker leaned his back against the cold stone wall, his head thrown back, his knuckles white. His wolf was a raging tempest inside him, a confusing mix of elation at its freedom, fury at its captor, and a deep, agonizing pull towards its mate. It was a bond he despised, a connection he wanted to sever with his own claws.

He slammed his fist into the wall. Pain flared, sharp and grounding. He welcomed it. It was a barrier against the confusion, a reminder of the hate that had kept him sane.

The sound drew his brother. Zane appeared at the end of the hall, his hazel eyes widening first with shock, then with concern as he saw Ryker standing free.

"Ryker?" He rushed forward, his voice a low whisper. "She... she did this?"

Ryker gave a curt, sharp nod, his jaw tight. "She's not right today. This is a new trap. I can feel it."

Zane's expression hardened, mirroring his brother's suspicion. "The more she deviates from the script, the more careful we need to be."

They moved into Zane's room. It was a stark contrast to my own-a simple cot, a wooden chest, a weapon rack on the wall. It was the room of a warrior, not a prince.

"I don't care what game she's playing," Ryker said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The plan doesn't change."

Zane's gaze was grim. "At the Marking Ceremony?"

A murderous light flared in Ryker's golden eyes. "Yes. In front of the whole pack. We expose her for what she is, for what she's done. And then... we end her." It wasn't just about revenge. It had to be a public execution, a sanctioned act, to cleanse the pack of her poison.

"But Corbin and Silas..." Zane began, his voice laced with pain.

"We will avenge them," Ryker cut him off, his tone absolute. "It's all we can do for them now."

Back in my gilded cage, the adrenaline was fading, replaced by a gnawing, desperate hunger. I hadn't eaten in... I had no idea how long. I pushed myself to my feet and began to search the room.

I found wardrobes filled with exquisite gowns, drawers overflowing with glittering jewels, but not a single crumb of food. The original Elara had lived a life of pure indulgence, never concerning herself with something as mundane as sustenance. Servants brought her what she wanted, when she wanted it.

The hunger was making me dizzy, black spots dancing in my vision.

I heard footsteps outside the door and froze.

The door swung open and Zane stepped inside. His eyes, so much softer than his brother's, widened slightly as he took in my pale face and the disarray I'd created in my frantic search. He was here to watch me, I realized. To see what I'd do next.

This was my chance. My one and only chance to reach out to another of them.

I swallowed, my tongue feeling thick in my dry mouth. I licked my chapped lips and forced myself to meet his wary gaze. My voice was small, hesitant.

"Please... is there anything to eat?"

Zane stared at me, his face a mask of utter shock. He had likely come in here expecting screams, or demands, or some new, cruel decree. He had never, in a million years, expected the tyrant Luna to beg him for a piece of bread.

Chapter 3

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