Niks’s voice is sharp, edged with barely contained anger. “Who did that to you?”
Saphira already knows what he’s referring to-the scars. She hadn’t even thought about them, hadn’t considered them visible. They’ve been a part of her for so long that she’s almost forgotten them entirely.
“My pack,” she answers simply.
The awareness of her vulnerability hits her again-standing here, wrapped only in a towel-and she makes an instinctive move toward the bathroom. But before she reaches the door, Niks is suddenly there, blocking her path.
He moves so fast it throws her off bnce, and she stumbles, but his arm loops around her waist, steadying her effortlessly.
“Why?” he demands, his grip firm but not forceful. He doesn’t move his hand.
“It was my punishment after Connor died,” she says, her voice strained. Then, more desperately, she adds, “Now, can I please go into the bathroom?”
He doesn’t step aside.
Instead, his voice drops slightly, a quiet intensity recing his usual indifference. “What did they use?”
Something shifts in him-something dark, controlled, like he already knows the answer but needs to hear her say it.
Saphira exhales shakily, lowering her gaze. “Silver,” she whispers.
She had read once-long ago-that silver as a form of punishment was banned in wolf packs. Not that hers had ever cared about rules.
Niks remains still, but there’s something burning in his expression-something that makes her doubt the conversation is over.
Niks exhales slowly before asking, “Did they know you were wolf-less when they delivered the punishment?”
The memories rush back-sharp, unrelenting-but Saphira shoves them aside before they can take hold. She lowers her gaze, avoiding his eyes.
“Yes,” she says, voice quiet but firm.
Niks doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches out, lifting her chin so she’s looking at him again.
But he doesn’t speak.
He just stares.
His expression is unreadable-anger, frustration, something else she can’t quite ce. Then, a low curse slips past his lips, and just like that, he releases her, turning away without another word.
Once again, she’s left standing there, utterly confused.
Without hesitation, she retreats into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She presses her back against it, exhaling shakily.
You cannot cry, Saphi. Not over them. Not over what they did. They are not worth it.
She’s free now-or at least, she might be. A new home waits just beyond the decisions she’s yet to make.
But if she doesn’t learn to let go, she knows she’ll never truly be happy.
Saphira takes a steady breath, grounding herself. No more dwelling on the past.
She quickly dresses, sshes cool water on her face, and straightens her posture. I’ve got this.
The moment she opens the bathroom door, the rich scent of food fills the air, and her stomach twists in anticipation. How long was I in there?
Her gaze flickers toward the table-Niks is already seated, two tes set before him.
A small, unspoken moment passes between them.
She exhales, allowing a faint smile to cross her lips as she steps forward, moving toward him.
Whatever happened earlier, whatever still lingers-she sets it aside. For now, food is the only thing that matters.
Niks gestures toward the food. “Ready for dinner?”
Saphira nods, sliding into her seat. “Yes, thank you.”
They begin eating, the quiet between themfortable but not quite familiar.
After a few moments, Niks speaks first. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
Saphira doesn’t hesitate. “It’s okay, already forgotten.”
He exhales, gaze flickering toward his te. “It wasn’t because of you. It’s just… family issues back home. And being stuck here, I can’t do anything about it.”
She studies him briefly before answering, her voice steady. “You don’t need to exin anything to me. It’s okay. I understand.”
The conversation fades, reced by silence.
Every now and then, she nces at him-only to find he’s already looking at her.
Neither of them say anything, but something between them has shifted.
She can feel it in the air, in the unspoken nces, in the weight of their quiet.
And yet-she can’t quite put her finger on what it means.
They finish eating at the same time, and Saphira clears the tes, taking them to the sink and washing them quickly.
She half expects Niks to retreat into his room as he usually does, but when she turns, he’s still there-seated on the sofa, seemingly lost in thought.
Without hesitation, she moves to join him, settling into the cushions beside him. The silence stretches, unspoken but not ufortable.
Finally, she decides to break it. “How long have you been here?”
If she’s going to trust him-even consider his offer-she needs to understand him better.
“Coming up to a year, I think,” he answers.
She blinks, turning toward him with wide eyes. “Almost a year?”
A knot of disbelief coils in her stomach. She’s barelysted seven days, already feeling the strain of istion.
He must be going insane.
If it were her, she might have considered it-anything to escape, regardless of who they were.
Niks’s expression doesn’t shift. “Because of who I am,” he says simply.
That answer isn’t nearly enough.
Saphira exhales, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean?”
For once, she’s determined to get something more out of him.
“If I mark someone who isn’t the same as me,” he exins, his voice steady, “I’ll lose a lot of my abilities.”
That makes her pause. Lose his abilities?
She tilts her head, still not fully understanding. “Have you never been paired with someone the same before, then?”
She can’t imagine being stuck here for nearly a year without at least one match.
Surely, there had to have been someone.
Niks’s voice carries a quiet weight, edged with something unspoken. “They don’t exist. There are only a handful of my kind left in the world-and only one female. My sister.”
The words settle heavily between them, leaving Saphira with more questions than answers. But the shift in his demeanour is unmistakable.
She’s seen this before-earlier, when she mentioned what Jed had told her.
Whatever this is, it has everything to do with his sister.
“That’s why you’ve had to kill others before,” she murmurs, the realization settling in. “If they force a mating, you lose part of who you are.”
It isn’t a question-it’s a statement, spoken with certainty.
Niks nods, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he pushes himself up from the sofa.
“Goodnight, Saphira.”
With that, he disappears into his bedroom, leaving her alone once again.
This is bing a pattern-a recurring habit.
And yet, she’s still no closer to understanding why.