<h4>Chapter 99: punishment</h4>


    <strong><i>*~ Cyrius’s POV ~*</i></strong>


    <i>Hazel’s scent wasn’t everywhere...but it was enough.</i>


    Faint traces danced on the wind, almost deliberate, like someone had dragged it through the underbrush with a purpose. I knew what that meant. I could feel it. If Cayden and the others were tracking her and they were, no doubt..they wouldn’t need much. Not in this forest. The odds of theming here alone were low, but not nothing.


    And tonight... they’d be everything.


    That’s why I hadn’t slept. My nerves were fraying. I’d waited for her to settle, for the babies to grow heavy in their sleep, for that brief illusion of peace. But it never came.


    Hazel had said she caught her hand while slicing the deer meat earlier—but I didn’t smell it. Not then.


    Only now, hourster, her scent had spread she did something and she had done it on purpose.


    She had spread her scent through the woods. Probably while I was sleeping . <i>Clever little traitor.</i>


    My heart began to race. Something primal stirred in my chest..panic, rage, the overwhelming instinct to flee before it was toote. I clenched my fists tightly at my sides, grounding myself, but it was no use.


    Then I heard it. Faint movement. Leaves crunching. A shift of weight, somewhere deep in the trees.


    <i>They were here.. I knew it.</i>


    I stood quickly and turned toward Hazel and the babies, still curled in the corner of the hut. I knelt beside her, shaking her gently. "Hazel. Hazel...wake up. They’re here. We have to move. Now."


    She startled awake with a gasp and nearly screamed, but I mped my hand over her mouth before the sound escaped.


    "Shhh," I hissed, voice low but sharp. "You did this, didn’t you? You spread your scent. Thought you were clever?"


    She didn’t answer, but the flicker of guilt in her eyes told me everything.


    My jaw tightened. "Don’t worry. I’ll punish you for that. Thoroughly. But not here. First, we run."


    I reached down and scooped up the twins..still asleep, thank the gods. How I was going to escape with a rebellious woman and two fragile, whimpering newborns, I had no idea. But I still had a sliver of time. A sliver of control.


    And I’d use it.


    I turned back to Hazel, gripping her chin and lifting her face to mine. Our eyes locked. "You will do exactly as I say," I whispered, letting themand bleed into my voice, into her mind.


    Her pupils flickered. "You’re doing it again," she breathed. "You’repelling me."


    "Yes," I replied coldly. "Because your will does not align with mine. So I’m shifting yours where I need it to go."


    She didn’t resist, she stood up and without another word, she began to follow.


    We moved quickly, silently, deeper into the woods until a sh of movement caught my eye..a carriage half-hidden between trees, one horse still standing while the othery lifeless on the ground.


    Perfect...It wouldn’t get us far, but it would be enough to start.


    I turned toward Hazel again, still under my control, still following mymand.


    But something twisted inside me—aHow dare she try to outsmart me? I need to teach her a lesson so she wouldn’t do it next time.


    And that’s when the cruelest idea crept into my mind.


    If she wanted to be clever, then fine. She’d learn what it meant to y games with a monster.


    I pointed to the tallest tree ahead, its branches stretching like skeletal arms into the dawn-stained sky. "Climb it," I said, my voice calm, sharp. "And once you’re up there, you’ll keep your eyes on the path. They wille—yes, they will call your name, they will search... but they will not find you. And you will not answer them."


    Her eyes widened. She turned to the tree, then back to me in disbelief.


    "No..." she whispered, voice breaking. "Cyrius, please... don’t do this."


    She reached for my hand, her fingers trembling as they brushed against mine—but I pulled away like her touch burned me. My jaw clenched. The anger still coiled tight in my gut.


    "You wanted them toe, didn’t you?" I hissed. "You spread your scent like a re in the sky. You wanted your little saviors to find you. Well, congrattions. They’re here. But you? You’ll watch them look for you. You’ll see them leave. And you will not make a sound."


    Tears welled in her eyes, those stubborn eyes that always held too much fire. "Please," she whispered again, voice raw. "That... that would be too cruel. I’ll do anything else. Just not this."


    "You brought this pain upon yourself," I snapped. "Be thankful your hand has healed..they won’t be able to track you by blood anymore."


    She choked on a sob, still shaking her head. "Cyrius, please, I’m begging you..."


    "Not another word."


    And with that, I sealed her lips with a flick ofpulsion. Her mouth froze shut mid-plea, but her eyes..those defiant, desperate eyes still screamed at me.


    I looked away.


    Yes, it haunted me to see her like that. But this wasn’t physical pain. Not the kind that would scar her body. This was different. This was necessary. I needed her to learn. She would never try to betray me like this again.


    Silently, she turned to the tree. Her limbs moved stiffly, resisting thepulsion even as it overpowered her will. She started to climb, her body trembling with each step, leaves rustling beneath her hands. Her figure soon disappeared into the foliage, just a flicker of brown hair and fear-shaken limbs high above the ground.


    Then a soft sound broke the silence.


    Heather.


    A tiny cry. A whimper, barely a breath—but I heard it. I turned, startled. The baby’s eyes were open, ssy with unshed tears as she reached out toward the tree. Toward her mother.


    Her fingers stretched, her mouth forming a wordless cry. Hazel looked back and in that moment...<i>Gods</i>...it nearly broke me.


    She mouthed something, her lips moving without voice, sealed shut by mymand. Please, she said.


    <strong><i>Please, Cyrius. Please don’t leave me like this.</i></strong>


    But I did.


    I turned away.


    The child’s hand dropped, her tiny body curling back into sleep. And Hazel—still frozen in that tree, still watching—was left behind.


    Yes, it hurt.


    But she brought this upon herself. I had warned her. Protected her. And she still defied me.


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