"It’s mine! Everything on this side of the closet is mine! Annie keeps her clothes on the other side..." I babbled, utterly confused as to why the shirt mattered. Roommates swapped oversized clothes all the time. Where else would I get it? My family? My siblings wouldn’t give me their old rags if I were freezing.
He stared at me, searching my face for any sign of a lie. His oppressive aura flared, spilling into the tight room like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. My knees buckled, trembling violently under the sheer weight of his dominant presence.
"Do you have any idea what happens to breeders who defy their Alpha?" he murmured, his warm, scent-laced breath brushing against my cheek.
I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. I wanted him out of my room, out of my life, stripped of his terrifying threats and iron grip.
"N-nothing," I attempted to defend myself, but my confidence collapsed, my voice quivering on the last syllable. "I didn’t do anything wrong."
"Is that so?" A dark eyebrow arched up. He seemed almost amused by my pitiful defiance—as if he had expected me to drop to my knees and beg for mercy like he had demanded over the phone.
"You need to be taught a lesson in obedience, little breeder."
Before my brain could process the threat, his hand shot out, clamping around my waist and yanking me forward so violently my feet left the floor.
In the next blur of motion, I was slammed back onto the mattress. Magnus’s massive hand pinned both of my wrists above my head, crushing them into the pillow.
His towering body hovered over mine—heavy, burning hot, and utterly inescapable. Pushing his knee between my thighs, he forced my legs apart, completely neutralizing any chance I had to twist away or fight back.
"It’s time you learned how to obey."
His body was like sun-baked stone—massive, impossibly heavy. He pressed down with such force that I felt every hard plane of muscle, every ridge of his torso crushing against me. Breath came in shallow, panicked pulls. Thought scattered like leaves in a storm.
Magnus’s gray eyes held mine, molten mercury swirling in their depths. The sight was hypnotic, terrifying in its intensity, yet I could not look away. With every second, the fear sharpened... and so did something darker, something that coiled low in my belly and refused to name itself.
I no longer understood what this alpha wanted from me. No rational thought survived the heat of him, the weight, the sheer overwhelming presence of the wolf who claimed me.
His behavior made no sense. Punishment? A lesson? Or did he simply want to break me because the urge lived in his blood?
"What are you going to do?" I jerked my wrist hard, desperate to free even one hand.
It was useless. His fingers were iron manacles around my wrists; I would never tear free, no matter how I struggled.
"I’m going to show you," he said, voice low and rough, "what it means to listen to your alpha."
A chill slid down my spine and pooled in my stomach, heavy with dread. I hated the sound of those words.
"Stop—please. I understand. I understand everything. Can’t we just talk about this? We’re civilized people. We can settle it with words." The plea tumbled out in one breathless rush. I forced my voice steady even as every muscle trembled.
Magnus’s mouth curled. "You don’t understand words, Lang. Sometimes I think your head is stuffed with cotton. You can’t process speech the way a proper person should."
It was the longest sentence he had ever spoken to me. Usually he dealt in clipped commands and threats. The sudden flood of language only made the danger feel more real.
"We never even tried talking," I whispered. "Now we have the chance... to sit quietly. To speak. Please...?"
I was not certain he would agree. But anything was better than the look in his eyes—the edge of the precipice where one wrong word would send me tumbling into whatever he decided I deserved.
Without warning, Magnus released my wrists and rose from the bed in a single fluid motion. I scrambled up after him, putting several careful steps between us. Distance was the only shield I had; the nearness of his body did something to my thoughts that I could not afford.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and watched me in silence. I stood frozen, mind racing for a way to open a conversation that would not end in pain. I knew he could hurt me. The law would not stop him. An alpha wolf had the right to discipline his breeder, and every other wolf in the territory would turn a blind eye.
I forced myself to move. Crossed to the small table, checked the kettle, switched it on. Simple tasks. Boiling water. The ordinary rhythm of living. Anything to keep my hands from shaking and my mind from circling the heat still branded into my skin.
I got two mugs. Then, after a heartbeat’s hesitation, the plain apple pie I had baked that morning. Roland had sent a jar of his orchard jam weeks ago; I had used it because store-bought sweets were expensive and because—like every woman I had ever known—I craved sugar when the world felt too sharp. It was one of the few small mercies I allowed myself.
I then poured the tea, set thin slices of pie on a plate, and turned. Sliding one mug across the free half of the table toward him, I met his gaze and waited.
"Sit down. We’ll have some tea and pie and... talk," I said, trying to force my voice into a calm, reasonable tone. It sounded pathetic instead.
I had to be out of my mind to think Magnus would actually drink tea with me. I was acting as though this were a normal, everyday chat, rather than a confrontation with a dominant Alpha who looked ready to tear me limb from limb.
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