Four days had passed since your arrival—since the moment Kade had taken your hand outside the SUV, introduced himself, and led you straight into Atlas's chamber. You had arrived in heat, every breath of your scent a wildfire in his veins. He remembered it too clearly: the intoxicating pull of your pheromones, the way your striking eyes had locked onto his—eyes that seemed to whisper take me, I'm yours. That memory gnawed at him, sweet and poisonous, until it was almost unbearable.

Kade's eyes snapped open. The fantasy dissolved with a sharp knock against his chamber door. He dragged in a long breath, steadying himself before moving to open it.

Colt stood there, broad-shouldered and stoic, his expression giving little away. "Atlas wants you," Colt said simply.

A heavy sigh left Kade's chest. He stepped past the Delta without another word, boots striking the stone floor as he made his way down the dim hall toward the Alpha's office. The weight of duty pressed against the hunger coiled inside him—two sides of himself constantly at war.

Kade's boots echoed against the wood floor as he walked the long corridor, his posture rigid, every step measured. He forced himself back into the mask—obedience, loyalty, discipline. The hunger inside was buried deep, hidden where even Atlas could not see.

At last, he stopped before the Alpha's office door. He drew in a long, steady breath, then knocked.

"Enter," Atlas's deep, commanding voice called from within.

Kade opened the heavy door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a quiet click. The scent of parchment, ink, and leather lingered in the room, oppressive in its silence. He approached the desk and stopped, standing tall.

"You summoned me," Kade said evenly, his tone clipped, disciplined.

Atlas raised his eyes from the papers spread before him, gaze sharp as a blade. "Yes," he replied slowly, and rises from his carved velvet chair had moved to the floor-to-ceiling window, the late afternoon light throwing sharp shadows across his frame. Hands clasped behind his back, he spoke without turning.

"I'll be leaving for two days," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Clan finances and territorial matters require my presence. A meeting with the Eastern clan cannot be postponed."

He pivoted slowly, grey eyes locking onto Kade with unyielding weight.

"In my absence, you will watch her. Keep her safe. Keep her in sight at all times."

For a split second, Kade's chest tightened, his wolf clawing at his ribs at the thought. Alone with you. Two days. His mind flickered with images he buried deep. On the surface, his face remained stone.

He gave a short, clipped nod. "When do you leave?" he asked, tone carefully measured, void of anything but obedience.

"Tomorrow at first light," Atlas answered. His voice carried no room for negotiation, only fact.

Now the house—and you—were his.

Kade moved with controlled but swift steps through the corridors, his expression unreadable. Without knocking, he opened Atlas's chamber door—the same room that now belonged to you. His breathing was uneven, fast, almost betraying the chaos beneath his cold mask.

The bed was empty, but from behind the bathroom door he could hear the steady sound of running water. A thin, crooked smile ghosted across his lips. Perfect...

He sank silently into one of the armchairs, stretching his long frame across it with the patience of a predator waiting in ambush. Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and you stepped out, oblivious to his presence.

Kade rose without a sound, his movements fluid, his shadow falling over you before a breath of warning could be drawn. In one sharp motion, his hand seized your waist through the towel, firm and unyielding. He pressed you against the high backrest of the chair, your spine meeting the solid frame while his chest loomed close behind.

Leaning down so his breath ghosted hot across your ear, he whispered in a low, jagged growl:

"I just can't take it anymore. Now turn around and grab the backrest of the chair tightly."

Then his fingers tighten around your towel-covered waist and he leans even closer to your ear. He almost lets his wolf's finish and strive for the surface, driven only by his instincts but he forces himself to finish what he has to say continues, growling, almost snarling.

"And that was more of a warning than a request because whether you like it or not, you're mine now."