No answer aside from:‘Yes.Youhappened.’
But she couldn’t possibly admit that. How did one even begin to say,‘I cut my bath short because I couldn’t stop thinking about you?’
The mere thought sent heat curling up her neck. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing.
And entirely his fault.
Yet, as they walked, Alarik looked perfectly composed—calm, steady, as if nothing had happened at all.
Had he already put it behind him? Had their encounter meant so little to him?
The thought unsettled her more than it should have. He’d been the one to leave first, the one who’d put space between them. And yet, here he was—unaffected, as if their encounter had been nothing more than an ordinary moment.
Had she imagined it all? The tension, the restraint, the quiet way he’d held himself back?
Reiya clenched her jaw. She’d spent so long convincing herself that Alphas only took, that their presence only suffocated. But Alarik—damn him—had done nothing but give her space, letting her decide.
And somehow, that bothered her more than anything.
The unsettled energy clung to her, thrumming beneath her skin.She needed to focus on something else—something tangible, something that wasn’t him.
Glancing around, she scanned the quiet streets and lowered her voice. “Did Kai tell you about the bounty notice?”
Alarik’s gaze remained ahead. “He did.”
“Should we leave Zohara?”
“No. It would draw too much attention.”
She frowned. “But the mercenaries?—”
“Staying means blending in. Leaving means running. If we run, we look guilty.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Hiding in plain sight is safer—for now.”
Reiya exhaled slowly, her uncertainty settling alongside his steadier resolve. She’d always equated freedom with movement, with slipping through unseen cracks before the walls could close in. But now, she must learn survival in stillness, in calculated steps rather than frantic ones.
They walked in silence as the caravanserai came into view. Lantern light flickered at its edges, and the distant murmur of voices marked the boundary of their temporary refuge. But between them, the silence lingered.
Alarik’s stride, naturally longer, never left her behind. Somehow, he always matched her pace without effort—not in a way that felt forced, but instinctive, as if he’d spent his life learning how to walk beside someone rather than ahead of them.
Her gaze drifted to the inside of his right forearm, where the edges of a tattoo peeked from beneath his rolled-up sleeve.
She hadn’t imagined it. Half a sunburst, its circle incomplete, its rays frozen mid-arc. It mimicked a Sunborn mark, yet wasn’t one.
A mark of something he’d once reached for—or something he’d turned away from?
The question hovered on her lips, but when she glanced up at him, the quiet stillness of his expression stopped her. He didn’t seem ready to share that part of himself.
Her steps slowed as they passed a weapons stall, the gleam of steel catching her eye. Blades and bows glinted under the lanterns, polished edges gleaming with quiet promise. She drifted toward the display, herfingers brushing the wood, drawn in by the craftsmanship laid before her.
A wiry Beta merchant straightened, smiling at their approach. “Fine selection, miss. Balanced, durable—sharp enough to split a hair.”
Reiya barely heard him, her focus narrowing on a single dagger nestled among the others. A crescent-shaped blade, its hilt wrapped in dark leather, the kind that would mould to a grip like it belonged there. She picked it up carefully, its weight settling in her palm.
She knew the moment she held it—it felt right. Her thumb brushed over the hilt, and a thought sharpened at the edges of her mind.
She thought of Jodhar, his mocking voice, the way he’d loomed too close, his words a reminder of just how powerless she’d been in those moments. She hadn’t been able to fight back, hadn’t even had the means to bluff.
Never again.