Colt’s POV

"Cass..."

"Mh..." The voice is soothing, anchoring me to reality.

"Cass... baby, wake up." My eyes flutter open to meet Colt’s beautiful green gaze.

"Mh... what time is it?" I ask, nuzzling into his chest, unwilling to let go.

"We have to go. The sun will be up soon."

I jolt awake, glancing at the lightening sky. "Shit!"

"Don't panic," he says, his voice steady. "No one has come looking for us yet." He looks at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes me lose my resolve; I lean in, and he catches me in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s brief, but it leaves me aching for more.

I pull back, hugging him. "So much for playing it safe, huh?"

He sighs, leaning his forehead against mine. "We shouldn't have done this. And I don't mean us—us is perfect. I mean the risk, the exposure... I wish I could just whisk you away. I wish I could save you from all of this. I’m so sorry."

I press a finger to his lips. "It’s not your fault," I whisper.

After a few stolen moments, we head back. I slip into my room through the balcony, exhausted but strangely at peace. A quick shower washes away the physical evidence of the night—a little blood, a little mess—before I collapse into bed, naked and utterly spent, drifting into sleep instantly.

"Rise and shine! New schedule, lazybones!"

I groan as light floods the room. Poppy is standing over me, throwing back the covers. I scramble to pull them back up. "I'm naked! I was... I was overheating last night!"

"Then get in the shower! Victor hates tardiness."

I drag myself through a second shower and meet Victor behind the house, where he’s set up a makeshift sparring area.

"You’re going to kick my ass, aren't you?" I ask, approaching him.

He offers a fleeting, rare smile. "I’m here to teach you, not break you. Come at me. Show me what you’ve got."

"I don't have a 'style,' Victor. I usually just jump on people, scream, and pull hair."

He raises an eyebrow. "So... a b*tch fight?"

I laugh, relieved by his bluntness. "Exactly."

He starts me on the basics—proper footwork, the mechanics of a punch. He’s surprisingly patient, though he mutters constantly about having his work cut out for him. During a break, I find the courage to ask, "So, Lotus is your mom?"

He nods.

"Is she Garret's, too?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

He eyes me cautiously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. It’s obviously not Skye or Jasmin, and Poppy doesn't have kids."

He sighs. "Her name was Lily. She was our father’s second bride. When she died, Poppy took over her duties."

"So... he just replaces them? Like they were nothing?"

"Cass, I’m here to teach you how to fight, not to gossip."

"Fine. Sorry."

By lunch, I’m learning that staring is the price I pay for being the Alpha's daughter. I’m sitting in the dining room, trying to ignore the eyes on me, when Colt walks in. He walks straight to Serge, who is standing behind me, and whispers something. Serge nods and walks away.

"My turn to watch over you," Colt murmurs, leaning close.

My stomach flutters. I try to stay professional, focused on my plate, but the memory of his hands and his lips on my skin last night makes my pulse race. Every time I glance back at him, he’s watching me with a look that’s equal parts hunger and restraint.

"Tease," he whispers as I head toward the war room later.

I giggle, and before I know it, he’s pulled me into a darkened closet. He pins me against the wall, his mouth crashing onto mine.

"I can't do it," he groans against my skin. "I can't resist you, not when I know how you feel...

inside

."

I laugh, a breathless, needy sound. "Then take me."

"This is reckless," he complains, but his hands are already at my zipper. "Quiet, baby. I want to hear you, but we can't let them hear you."

"I'll try," I gasp, my breath hitching as he presses himself against me.

The heat in the small, cramped space is suffocating. He moves with a controlled, rhythmic urgency, his hands gripping my hips to keep me steady as he finds his rhythm. When footsteps pass outside the closet door, we both freeze, chests heaving, hearts hammering in tandem. As soon as the corridor is clear, he picks up where he left off, his intensity spiking.

I bite my lip to silence my moans, but it’s a losing battle. He muffles me with his hand, his eyes locked on mine as he pushes us both toward the edge. When the release finally hits, it’s a violent, beautiful collision of sensation. We collapse against each other, gasping for air in the dark.

"Reckless," I whisper.

"Very," he agrees, kissing my forehead.

We clean up, dazed and giddy, and I sprint to the war room, arriving ten minutes late. Garret is waiting with a group of generals, his face a mask of annoyance.

"You're late." He looks at me, his eyes narrowing, then shifts to Colt. He sneers. "You smell like s*x. Both of you. I don't care what you do, just don't waste my damn time."

He turns back to the map on the table, muttering, "If I can smell it, others will too."

My heart stops. Colt keeps his face neutral, but once we’re alone, he sighs. "I tried to tell you."

"I f*cked up," I whisper.

"It's okay. He doesn't seem interested in reporting us." He looks thoughtful.

"If he does," I say, a mischievous grin forming, "I have a plan. I'll just tell them I forced you. Everyone knows you have to do what I say, right?"

Colt stares at me, then bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

"It’s not that funny!" I shout, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Oh, it’s hilarious!"

He laughs the entire way to my room. The reality of our situation is heavy, but for these few stolen hours, I choose to laugh with him. We have a war to prepare for, and my father is waiting.