Property.
The word landed like a stone in icy water.
Elsa picked up the bread, tearing off a piece. It was warm, dense, grainy in a way that reminded her of the artisan loaves from Earth’s agricultural colonies. She bit down. The flavor exploded across her tongue—salt and something earthy, almost nutty.
Real food. Not synthesized rations or protein paste.
She ate methodically, forcing herself to chew slowly despite the hunger clawing at her gut. The meat was gamey, rich, probably from some local animal. The fruit tasted like citrus crossed with something floral. The liquid in the cup burned going down, warming her from the inside out.
All of it carefully prepared. Deliberately chosen.
Not kindness. Control.
They were showing her what life could be like if she cooperated. Fed. Warm. Clean. Comfortable.
All she had to do was accept her place.
The Lux Saber watched her eat in silence, amber eyes tracking every movement. When Elsa finished, the guard stood. “Hold out your arm.”
Elsa’s pulse kicked up. “Why?”
“The Alpha King has claimed you. You will wear his mark.”
Ice flooded Elsa’s veins. “No.”
The guard’s ears flicked. Not anger. Amusement. “It’s not a choice.”
“Everything is a choice.” Elsa stood, her bare feet finding purchase on warm stone. “I won’t—”
The door opened.
Sylas filled the doorway, his massive frame blotting out the corridor light. Cyan eyes locked onto her, sharp and assessing. He dismissed the Lux Saber with a flick of one clawed hand.
The guard bowed her head, touching her fist to her chest. “My king.” Then she was gone, door closing behind her with a soft click.
Leaving Elsa alone with the creature who’d decided she was his.
He moved into the chamber, each step deliberate. Not threatening. Not yet. Just…present. Taking up space in a way that made the room feel smaller, the air thicker.
“You’re resisting.” His voice was a low rumble, more observation than accusation.
Elsa lifted her chin. “I won’t wear a collar.”
“It’s a wristband. Not a collar.” Sylas stopped an arm’s length away, holding up the object in question.
It was sleek, dark metal that caught the light in subtle ways. Set into its center, a blue gem pulsed with the same rhythm as the lights in the walls. The same stones the wolfmen wore. The same technology that had made them vanish in the forest.
“Same principle,” Elsa said, her voice steadier than she felt. “A marker. A brand. Something that says I belong to you.”
His lips pulled back, revealing teeth. Not quite a smile. “Youdobelong to me.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, definitive. “I don’t.”
Sylas tilted his head, studying her with that predatory patience. Then, to her surprise, he laughed—a low, rolling sound that vibrated through the stone beneath her feet.
“Brave.” He set the wristband on the table, next to the empty tray. “Foolish. But brave.”
He circled her slowly, the same way he had in the throne room. Assessing. Measuring. But this time, there was no audience. No brother watching. No guards to maintain appearances for.