Chapter 7

Elenor POV

The strange, twisted sense of safety didn't last. It couldn't. The reality of Jamison sitting in a holding cell clawed at my mind, tearing away whatever forced calm Damien had instilled in me.

Without realizing it, I brought my thumb to my mouth, my teeth sinking into the nail bed. It was a nervous habit born from years of walking on eggshells, a desperate attempt to ground myself through sharp, biting pain. I gnawed at the skin until I tasted the faint metallic tang of blood.

Damien noticed. He didn't say a word, but the massive, calloused hand resting on his knee suddenly moved. With an irresistible, terrifying force, he grabbed my wrist and pried my hand away from my mouth. His long fingers engulfed my trembling hand, trapping it against the hard muscle of his thigh.

A searing, heavy energy radiated from his palm, burning through my skin and sinking straight into my veins. It was a suffocating, forced calm. I was too exhausted from the emotional whiplash to fight him. I let my hand go limp in his grip, hating the shameful stability his touch brought me, hating how easily he dominated my physical space.

Suddenly, the oppressive air in the cabin shifted. Damien went perfectly still, his sharp, charcoal-gray eyes losing focus. He was using the Mind-Link again. I watched the temperature in the car plummet as he received the silent report from his Beta.

When he finally blinked, his gaze was glacial. He turned to me, his voice devoid of any human emotion.

"Your brother was involved in an altercation outside a private club on the Upper East Side," Damien stated. "The other party suffered a broken nose and minor lacerations. It was the heir to Bancroft Industries. Caleb Thornton."

The name paralyzed my lungs. Caleb Thornton.

The monster I had just sold my soul to escape. The ghost from my past life had just wrapped his hands around the only family I had left.

I ripped my hand from Damien's grasp, a hysterical, broken sound tearing from my throat. "No! No, he'll ruin him!" I sobbed, the panic blinding me. The ten-year-old secret I had guarded with my life spilled out like venom from a festering wound. "Jamison's college scholarship-it's entirely funded by a foundation controlled by the Thornton Pack. It was Caleb's leash on me. If I ever left, he promised to destroy Jamison's future. He's doing this to punish me!"

Damien didn't flinch. But the Alpha aura in the confined cabin exploded, turning the air into a Siberian blizzard. His inner beast was furious.

He reached out, his fingers gripping my chin with a bruising, inescapable pressure. He forced my face up. His eyes were no longer charcoal; they were glowing with a terrifying, lethal silver light.

"The Thornton Pack is a dying branch, Elenor," he commanded, his voice a dark, rumbling promise that vibrated in my teeth. "I am the root. That name, and everything attached to it, means nothing in my presence. I will handle this. They will never touch you, or your brother, again."

The sheer, world-ending authority in his vow silenced my sobs. He wasn't just comforting me; he was declaring a war.

Before I could fully process the magnitude of the monster I had just unleashed upon my former tormentor, the Maybach glided to a smooth halt. Through the tinted glass, the imposing stone steps of the NYPD 19th Precinct loomed under the sickly yellow streetlights.