It felt almost surreal standing over him like this after everything that had transpired between us. After our violent breakup. After every cruel, bitter word he had spat through the iron bars of my holding cell while I awaited trial. He had wanted to lock me away forever for forging his mark—and when he decided prison was too merciful, he vowed to break me mentally, to reduce me to a discarded plaything.
And now, I was standing here over his paralyzed frame while the bond buried inside me screamed in agony at my betrayal, completely indifferent to the monster he had become.
Unbuckling my apron, I shed it, then pulled off the maid dress to reveal the sleek tactical suit underneath. Designed to keep heat in without trapping sweat, it fit like a second skin. Strapped to my thigh was a specialized vacuum vial for the blood sample. I pulled out the hemotranslator, turned Magnus’s forearm over, and sliced open his sleeve just above the elbow.
His mark.
Or rather, what remained of it. The skin was cracked, flaked, and decayed—a mirror image of my own broken mark. Destroyed in the exact same way.
A sharp, suffocating ache bloomed in my chest. I froze. My mate instincts went dead quiet for a fraction of a second, only to begin thrashing wildly against my ribs. I couldn’t comprehend why I was doing it, but I gently ran my fingertips over the jagged, ruined pattern. I inhaled his scent, shutting my eyes tight.
It hurt. Goddess, it hurt so much to see it. After everything we had gone through...
What a fool I am. I hate him...
"Don’t you dare touch it!"
He snarled, his arm jerking violently, and I snatched my hand back. He shouldn’t be able to move. Was the Alpha-grade tranquilizer really this weak against him? The movement was faint, but I acted fast—feeling for the vein, inserting the fine needle, and pressing the trigger on the device. Blood began to pulse through the tube, filling the vial in steady thumps.
Every second spent trapped in the dense cocoon of his scent felt unbearable. It wasn’t a physical agony—it was worse. It was tearing my soul apart. I hadn’t anticipated how utterly destructive this proximity would be.
"Why do you need my blood, Omega?"
The shift in his address sent a shockwave straight through my body. I snapped my head up. His eyes had turned almost entirely black, mesmerizing and lethal. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, a violent shudder rippling down my spine. He exuded such pure, suffocating menace that I was practically vibrating with terror. Yet, strangely enough, his Alpha aura wasn’t crushing me into submission—it was simply roaring around us as if his wolf was right there.
"That is none of your concern," I stammered, fighting to keep my voice steady. "And it won’t harm you."
"I don’t give a fuck about that. Answer my fucking question." He groaned, jerking his body forward as if to try to attack me, but the movement was somewhat restrained, as if he made an actual effort to steady himself still.
I could not afford to be careful or slow anymore. The vial was nearly full—more than enough. If he was already regaining motor control through a lethal dose of tranquilizers, I would never have time to fill a second one. I yanked the needle free, slipped the translator into my tactical pocket, and zipped it shut. I couldn’t afford to lose it; this technology was strictly classified outside the Lower District. I sealed the vial’s valve tight.
All that was left was to escape into the night. He would never find me. Everything would be fine. My son would live.
Then came the sharp, splintering crack of solid wood.
My eyes darted down to see a chunk of the heavy armrest shatter where I had chained him. Before I could even twist away, his hand shot out like a strike of lightning and clamped around my wrist. He squeezed so hard a white-hot spike of agony shot from my wrist straight to my shoulder.
A sharp cry tore from my throat as the shattering fragments of my suppression bracelet bit deep into my skin, drawing blood.
The bracelet.
My mark dampener... shattered.
The realization hit me in the exact same instant I tried to break free, frantically tearing against his grip. But he yanked me toward him—hard, brutal, and sudden. I collapsed right onto his chest, and he buried his face deep into the crook of my neck.
Heat exploded through my veins at a terrifying speed. From my neck, down through my shoulders, rushing down my arms to the tips of my fingers. It was as if a fire that had been smoldering beneath ash for five long years had suddenly caught air, erupting into a roaring inferno.
His chest heaved beneath me, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as he drank in my scent and devoured me with his eyes. He was burning me to cinders in the absolute darkness raging inside his gaze. It wasn’t fire—it was a tempest of pure void. His other hand tangled into my long braid, trapping my head so I couldn’t pull away, while his freed hand yanked up my sleeve, exposing my forearm.
The ruined mark on my skin lay completely bare.
I froze. He froze, too.
Within seconds, his palm slid up to my neck, his fingers searching, finding the thin layer of medical silicone hiding my true scent. His nails dug in, tearing the synthetic skin free. I tried to twist out of his grasp, but his grip was ruthless—a pair of iron shackles locking me down.
"Jane..."
The word fell from his lips softly, shattered into pieces—a stark, terrifying contrast to the animalistic snarl from just a second ago. He spoke my name as if he had been tasting it on his tongue, carrying its weight for five endless years.
"My Jane... My girl... you’re alive."
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