Chapter 2 CAUGHT IN THE WOLF'S DEN

His presence moved through the clearing like gravity itself, drawing every breath, every eye, every threat toward him and holding it captive.

The rogues who had been circling me froze instantly, their bodies straightening like soldiers caught mid-sin. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if unsure whether it was still allowed to move.

He was tall, taller than I expected, broad-shouldered and calm in a way that made my instincts scream. His dark tunic was streaked with dried blood at the cuffs, but his face remained untouched, composed.

The scar I remembered from the fire, it was there, slashed down one side of his jaw like a signature. And his eyes, gods, his eyes, burning gold, fixed on me like I was something pulled from his dreams or his nightmares.

He didn't speak. He didn't blink. He looked at me like he already knew me.

And then... He shifted.

Not fully. Just his fangs and claws. It was enough.

"Don't..." I gasped.

He didn't ask for permission.

He bit my neck.

Agony bloomed like wildfire. My bones felt like they were melting, like the air around me turned liquid and hot. Something ancient snapped inside me. Something deeper than instinct. Deeper than blood.

The last thing I saw was his face, hovering over mine. Not cruel. But broken.

I woke again, this time in a stranger's bed.

Silken sheets. A chamber carved from stone. The walls flickered with torchlight.

I tried to sit up, but then I screamed.

The pain flared at the side of my neck, where his fangs had sunk in. I reached for it, and felt the mark.

A mate mark. No. No. No.

The door creaked open. I reached for a weapon, but my hands shook too badly to grip anything.

And then he stepped inside.

Maddox.

No armour. No growl. Just a black tunic, boots, and those same unreadable eyes. He shut the door behind him, sealing us in together.

I forced my spine straight. "You should've killed me."

His gaze didn't waver. "I did worse."

I tried not to tremble, but I was already failing.

"What did you do?" I whispered.

"You're bonded now," he said quietly. "To me. The mark will keep you alive. But it will also keep you here."

I swallowed bile.

"Why would you do that?" I choked.

He looked down, then back at me.

"You were dying," he said. "And I don't like owing anyone. Not even death."

I stared at him. My throat burned. My soul burned.

"You don't even know who I am," I whispered.

His voice was gravelly.

"Not yet."

He tilted his head, studying me with something unreadable in his expression. "You came here to die," he said, not as an accusation, but like a sad truth spoken aloud. "But fate decided otherwise."

Silence swallowed the space between us. The air felt denser in his presence, like every molecule bent around his will. I clutched the blanket around me with trembling fingers, more to anchor myself than out of modesty.

"Where am I?" I grasped.

I stiffened, but he didn't press further. His calm unnerved me more than any threat would have. There was no cruelty in his voice, just certainty, like he'd already mapped out every move I might make next. And still, it felt like he wasn't trying to dominate me. He was trying to understand me. That was worse.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps and poured something into a goblet from a stone pitcher. His movements were too calm, too collected,a wolf who knew he owned every inch of the territory around him.

He handed me the drink. "Water. You lost a lot of blood."

I didn't move.

"Do you think I'd poison you after saving your life?"

"I don't think anything," I said. "I don't even know what this is."

He didn't flinch. "You know. You just don't want to believe it."

I took the goblet, if only to give my hands something to do. The water tasted like ash and steel. My fingers brushed the bandage around my ribs, fresh, tight. Someone had tended to me. Cleaned me. Dressed my wounds.

"Who touched me?"

"A healer. She's mute. You'll see her again at dusk."

His answers were clipped, efficient. But the tension in his jaw said more than he wanted to.

"You still haven't told me why you marked me," I said.

Maddox leaned against the stone column beside the hearth. Shadows danced across his face. "The blade they struck you with was cursed. Laced with blood rot. It spreads fast. The only way to stop it is to bind you to a stronger bloodline."

My voice cracked. "So you chose mine."

"I chose survival."

A long silence stretched between us.

"You took away my choice," I whispered.

His eyes flared gold for a heartbeat, then dimmed. "You would've died."

"Maybe that would've been better."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. For a moment, something fractured in his expression, a fleeting crack in the stone. But it vanished just as quickly.

He turned away, muttering, "You have no idea what you've stepped into."

"You have no idea who you marked."

I regretted it the second I said it.

He turned back slowly. "You're right. I don't. But I will."

His gaze pinned me to the bed. "In the meantime, rest. The bond will keep us tethered until it settles. And if you try to run..."

He stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the heat of him.

"Your body will shut down. And I won't save you twice."

After he left, I sat in stunned silence.

My neck throbbed. My ribs ached. My mind raced.

I was bonded to the Rogue King.

I should have felt hatred.

Instead, all I felt was the hollow weight of something I couldn't name, yet.

A sound stirred behind the door. I stiffened, reaching instinctively for the goblet.

But it wasn't Maddox who stepped into the shadows outside my chamber.

It was someone else.

Tall. Lithe. One eye clouded over like smoke. The other glinting with suspicion.

He turned to someone in the corridor and whispered,

"She's going to ruin everything."