scarred by the Alpher, claimed by his touch.

The door to Elias' chamber slammed shut behind him, the iron bolt sliding into place.

For a long moment, he didn't move.

Pain pulsed through his ribs, a deep, bruising ache left by the Alpha's boot. His lip was split, his jaw sore from the backhand, but none of it was new. He had endured worse.

And yet, as he pressed his fingers against his side, feeling the dull throb beneath his skin, unease coiled in his stomach.

Because he was still breathing.

Still standing.

That was what unsettled him the most.

Elias knew how this was supposed to go. He had heard the stories, the whispered warnings. Omegas who were taken by Caidren Thorne did not last long.

Yet, he was still here.

His gaze flickered toward the basin in the corner of the room. He pushed himself forward, forcing his body to move despite the sharp protests of pain. The water was cold as he dipped his fingers in, dabbing at the blood on his lip.

He watched his reflection ripple in the water—golden eyes, hollow with exhaustion.

A ghost in a cage.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the basin.

No.

He would not be a ghost.

He had survived this long. He would survive longer.

No matter what the Alpha did.

No matter how long it took.

He would not break.

A sharp knock at the door made him tense.

Then, without waiting for permission, the heavy iron door groaned open.

Two guards stepped inside, their expressions blank as ever. Between them stood a servant, a tray in her hands.

Food.

Elias eyed it warily. He had learned quickly that nothing here was given without reason.

One of the guards stepped forward, his lip curling slightly. "Eat."

Elias didn't move.

A second passed. Then another.

The guard exhaled sharply, patience thinning. "The Alpha wants you alive. That means you eat."

Elias held his gaze for a moment longer before lowering his eyes. He stepped forward, taking the tray from the servant's hands.

It was simple—bread, roasted meat, a small bowl of stew. More than he had expected.

But he wasn't foolish enough to be grateful.

Without another word, the guards turned and left, the door slamming shut behind them.

Elias sat on the small cot, staring at the food in his hands.

He should eat.

He knew that.

But his stomach twisted violently at the thought.

Because this wasn't kindness. This was control.

Caidren hadn't killed him today. That didn't mean he wouldn't tomorrow.

But he forced himself to take a bite. To chew. To swallow.

Because no matter what game the Alpha was playing—

Elias would endure.

---

Meanwhile…

Caidren sat in the great hall, one leg draped lazily over the other, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his obsidian throne.

The warriors had long since left, the torches burning low, casting jagged shadows across the stone walls.

But his mind was elsewhere.

On the Omega.

He should have broken by now.

The others had.

Caidren had seen it before—the trembling, the pleading, the wide, tear-filled eyes of Omegas who knew their fate the moment they were thrown at his feet.

But Elias had not pleaded.

Had not even flinched.

The Alpha's fingers twitched slightly, his hand curling into a loose fist.

Perhaps the Omega was simply stubborn.

It wouldn't matter.

Because stubbornness meant nothing when bones cracked beneath his hands.

And yet…

The moment replayed in his mind, unbidden. The way Elias had looked at him. Not with defiance. Not with arrogance.

But with something else.

Something Caidren couldn't quite name.

Is that all?

The words had been quiet, even, but they had lingered.

The others had screamed, had begged for mercy.

But Elias had expected more.

As if what Caidren had done was nothing.

His jaw clenched.

It didn't matter.

The Omega would break.

They all did.

Caidren pushed himself to his feet, his cloak billowing as he strode toward the door.

Tomorrow, he would remind Elias what he was.

Tomorrow, he would make sure the Omega understood.

He would not make the mistake of holding back again.