Heather's POV
☆☆☆☆☆
I woke up screaming.
The sound ripped from my throat before I could stop it, raw and strangled. My body jerked forward, drenched in sweat, lungs fighting for air that didn't want to come.
My hands fisted the sheets—soft, clean, not stained with blood or dirt or fear—but for a terrifying moment, I was back there.
Back in the cage.
Back in that cold, windowless room where Marcus liked to remind me I was nothing but a toy he hadn't finished breaking.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The nightmare still clung to my skin like smoke. Silver claws. A hand around my throat. That voice—
"You'll never be free, little bitch."
I flinched, hands flying to my neck.
But there was no collar. No bruising grip. Just silence… and then—
Footsteps.
Heavy, measured. Controlled.
Him.
Darrian.
The door opened slowly, and he stepped in like a shadow made flesh—dark shirt clinging to muscle, black sweatpants low on his hips, barefoot and absolutely still as his eyes locked onto me.
Golden and black. A predator's stare.
But not Marcus's.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me, trying to hide the trembling in my arms. "Don't," I choked out, before I could think better of it. "Don't touch me."
He didn't.
He just stood there, watching. His jaw tensed, but his voice came out quiet. "You were screaming."
"I'm fine," I lied.
His gaze dropped to my fists. My nails had torn the sheets. My ribs were heaving.
Darrian stepped closer. I stiffened, but he kept his distance.
"It was just a dream," I whispered.
"No," he said. "It wasn't."
His voice had a weight to it. Not cruel, not soft—just honest. That was somehow worse.
"I thought he was here," I admitted. "I thought…"
"You're safe now."
I hated how much I wanted to believe that.
"Nightmares take time to fade," he added. "Especially when they were real."
I looked at him. "Did you have them too?"
A pause.
"Yes."
I didn't ask what kind. I didn't need to.
You could tell by the way he moved—like he was always holding something back. Like whatever lived inside him had teeth, and he had to keep it leashed.
"I don't sleep much," he added, almost like an afterthought.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Me either."
He shifted then, something in his face softening—barely. "You don't have to pretend you're not afraid."
"I'm not afraid of you."
A lie.
A truth.
Both.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what are you afraid of?"
I didn't answer.
How could I explain that it wasn't just Marcus I was afraid of?
It was myself.
What I'd become.
What I'd survived.
It was the bond tying me to Darrian—this stranger who made my wolf purr when I should be clawing to run. It was the way his voice settled in my bones. The way I wanted to believe him.
I shook my head. "Why are you being kind to me?"
"I'm not kind," he said simply. "I'm yours."
My breath hitched.
He said it like a truth carved in stone. No hesitation. No doubt.
And that was the problem.
"I didn't ask for a mate," I said. "I didn't want this."
"I didn't either."
"Then why—?"
"Because it's fate," he said. "Because it's done. And because whatever hell you came from, Heather, I won't let you be dragged back into it."
A sharp silence fell between us.
"I can't belong to anyone," I said, voice breaking. "Not again."
"You're not a possession."
"Tell that to the last Alpha who owned me."
Darrian's face darkened. The power that radiated from him shifted—burned. The air in the room thickened with his fury, but he kept it leashed.
"Marcus will never touch you again," he said. "I swear it."
"You don't even know what he did to me."
"Then tell me."
I stared at him. My chest ached with memories I'd buried so deep I thought they'd stay gone.
He waited.
So I spoke.
Not everything.
But enough.
"The first time," I said slowly, "he broke my wrist because I flinched when he kissed me."
Darrian didn't react. Not visibly. But something behind his eyes shattered.
"He said he'd train the fear out of me. That it was weakness." I looked away. "He liked to hear me scream."
Darrian's hands were clenched into fists now, the tendons in his forearms flexing.
"I stopped screaming eventually," I whispered. "When I realized it only made him enjoy it more."
Silence.
Then—
"I'm going to kill him."
He said it so calmly I almost missed it.
I looked at him. "Why?"
"Because you're mine."
I wanted to be angry. To scream at him that I didn't want to be his. That I wasn't some lost thing to be claimed.
But gods help me, part of me ached at those words.
I didn't want to be owned.
But I wanted to be protected.
"I don't know who I am without the pain," I said.
"Then we'll find out," he replied. "One day at a time."
I stared at him, and for the first time, I didn't see the predator.
I saw the man behind the scars. The Alpha with demons of his own. The one who didn't ask me to be strong—but who stood there anyway, willing to be strong for me.
"Do you ever wish the bond didn't exist?" I asked.
A long pause.
"No," he said. "Because without it, I never would've found you."
My throat tightened. I looked away, blinking hard.
Darrian stepped back toward the door. "You should rest."
"Wait," I said, before I could stop myself.
He turned.
I hesitated, then whispered, "Will you stay?"
He didn't answer with words. He just moved to the chair near the bed and sat.
Not close enough to touch. But close enough that I could hear him breathe.
And somehow, that was enough.
I leaned back against the pillows, watching the flames dance across the walls, and for once…
I didn't fall asleep afraid.