CHAPTER 55: HER CHOICE TO MAKE

"Just hand the girl and let’s get done with the business," Arjan said with impatience.

Rion’s eyes snapped to him in an instant. The shift was subtle, but I sensed how he turned serious, his gaze full of authority.

"You don’t get to command me, Arjan." His tone was soft, measured, but it carried the faintest ripple of warning, like the growl of a wolf right before the lunge.

Arjan flinched. Barely. But I saw it.

And made me flinch too, not because of his reaction, but because it reminded me of what a villain Rion was. Arjan was no weakling, I was sure. I’d already marked him as dangerous: tall, scarred, a man who bore himself like one accustomed to cruelty.

A rogue, yes, but one who carried himself with the weight of power and intelligence. Yet even he shrank beneath Rion’s gaze.

"Come now, you’re far too serious," Arjan forced a chuckle, as though to mask the slip. "You’ve never shown interest in women before. And now you want Finn’s little prize? I suppose this is just to spite him? I don’t think you’d carry such deep grudges for him when you barely know each other."

Rion’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile, it was the faint twist of a blade sliding free from its sheath.

"I don’t think my intentions are yours to weigh." He didn’t raise his voice but his words were sharp. "You should know better than to pry into matters that don’t concern you."

Arjan’s eyes narrowed, his expression flickering between irritation and wariness.

"I meant no harm. It’s just my curiousity speaking. But I tell you, you might find that pride makes poor company when you’ve run out of allies."

"Fortunately for me," Rion drawled, tilting his head slightly, "I’ve never needed allies." His eyes glinted, dark and amused.

When Rion turned back to me, the storm in his eyes vanished as though it had never been there.

His features softened, playful now, lips quirking as if this was all a game and I was his favorite piece.

"So," he drawled, one brow lifting. "What’s your decision, lovely Vivien? Would you rather go back to Finn?"

My breath caught sharply, and I clenched my fists at my sides to steady myself. I hated him.

Gods, I hated him.

I hated his lands, the walls of stone that seemed alive with whispers. I hated the bustling Undercity and the shadows that curled like loyal beasts around their Alpha.

But most of all, I hated the way Rion twisted everything, pulling the strings so that the choice I made looped back to him. He had told me I had months to decide, had promised me time. And now here he was, cornering me, pressing me against the wall until my only options were the ones he handed me.

I forced myself to meet his eyes, even as my chest tightened. "You said I had time."

His smirk widened. "I did. But time is a luxury, little wolf. And luxuries are rarely free."

"I should have known," I muttered bitterly.

"Known what?" His eyes gleamed.

"I thought you were genuine when you said I have months to think about it," I snapped, anger spilling despite myself.

He leaned forward, studying me. "Genuine? Vivien, I am many things, but never naive enough to be genuine. I deal in bargains, not fairy tales."

I wanted to scream on his face. To hurl the words I kept swallowing, the curses that burned at the back of my throat. But the weight of his stare pressed them all back down.

Instead, I forced a harsh laugh. "Of course... of course it was my fault for believing your empty words. I was a big fool, and you are an asshole."

"Careful," he murmured.

"Or what?" I spat. "You’ll add me to the soil of your flowers?"

The silence that followed was sharp, cutting. Even Arjan shifted, his hand twitching at his side.

But then Rion’s lips curved again, humorless. "You have claws, Vivien. I’ll give you that."

"And I’ll use them if I have to," I said, though my voice trembled.

He chuckled, low, dark, and leaned back once more, as though nothing in this exchange had rattled him.

I hated him more for it.

The tension stretched, too taut, until I could barely breathe. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out everything else.

And then, desperate, reckless, I said the words that would change everything.

"Give me to him, then."

The smirk on his face faltered, vanishing like smoke.

The shift was immediate. His eyes darkened, the sea-green swallowed by shadow, his expression carved in stone. The weight of his gaze slammed into me so hard my breath hitched.

It was anger, pure and unfiltered—not loud, not explosive, but quiet and cold, an unforgiving intensity that made me tremble.

"I’d rather go back," I added, my voice hoarse, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

"Vien," Leika’s voice rippled inside me, a warning low and urgent. "Think carefully."

But I didn’t answer her.

I couldn’t.

My mind spun through desperate calculations. The north to Levian lands was a long journey. Long enough, perhaps, to find a chance. To slip past the Arthien wolves, to trick them, to carve out a sliver of freedom.

And if not, if I failed and found myself back in Finn’s grasp, then I would use it to strike.

Finn would punish me for sure. He’d get close. Too close, drunk on his claim, on his need to possess. And in that closeness lay opportunity.

I only needed a moment. I already have my wolf. I may not be as strong as the Alphas, but I was stronger than before. I could strike when he least expected it, after I’d made him believe I was weak and harmless. I’d prepare for it.

I could kill him.

I would die afterward, of course. There was no escaping a pack after killing its Alpha. But death didn’t frighten me half as much as the thought of living on as someone’s puppet.

My mother deserved vengeance. If I had to carve it from my own blood, so be it.

I lifted my chin, forcing my voice through the quake in my chest.

"Yes, you are right. I don’t intend to stay as your mate. I never will."