Cass’s POV

Before Colt can storm off, I grab his arm and drag him into the music room, crashing my lips against his. "May I remind you, sir, that

you

were the one who insisted we play this by my father's rules?"

"I know," he groans against my mouth. "But it’s harder than I imagined. Seeing him think he has a claim on you... it makes me want to tear his throat out."

I rub his back, feeling his muscles slowly uncoil. "My love, can you do this? I don't want you to suffer, and I don't want to be the cause of your pain."

He exhales a long, ragged breath. "Yes. I can do it. For you."

"Can you do it without trying to kill Alpha Oliver?"

He gives a grim chuckle. "I'll try."

"If it ever becomes too much, we stop," I say, pulling back to look him in the eye. "We might not be able to mark each other yet, but we can always just run. I’m yours, Colt. Always."

He kisses my forehead, a look of profound relief washing over him. "I love you more than anyone in this world. You were the light in my darkness."

Later that night, the white room returns. This time, I’m paralyzed, anchored to the sofa while Ezra looms over me, his face a sickening mirror of the man I love.

"You must still want me if you keep inviting me into your dreams," Ezra murmurs, his hand trailing toward my lips. The warmth of his breath feels impossibly, terrifyingly real. "My brother must not be satisfying you properly. Beg me, and I’ll take you back."

"I will never want you," I grit out, fighting the mental paralysis.

"So you say," he sneers.

I wake up startled, the memory of his touch still lingering like a phantom itch. I hate these dreams. I hate that my obsession—my hatred for him—is what anchors him in my mind.

Morning brings an abrupt, polite knock. Alpha Oliver stands in the hallway, looking devastatingly charming. "Good morning, my lady. Would you do me the honor of joining me for breakfast?"

I accept, though my stomach churns. I feel lost without Colt’s morning kiss, and the breakfast garden feels like a stage where I’m forced to perform a role I despise. Oliver is vague about his past, his answers sliding around my questions like oil. I’m relieved when it ends, but my unease remains.

Training has intensified. Victor is brutal, but his methods are working. My endurance is up, and I’m finally learning to anticipate his movements. When I have secret moments with Colt, he seems to be handling his jealousy better—mostly because I spend every second of our stolen time proving exactly who I belong to.

But today, near the garden, I spot him talking to Skye. My blood boils.

"What's so funny?" I demand, storming over.

Colt steps back, his expression unreadable as he lets me assert my claim. Skye doesn't flinch. "He and I share history, Cass. You can't erase that."

"I don't need to erase it," I snap, my power flaring, a cold, dark wave rolling off me. "I can make you forget it entirely. I can make you do whatever I want."

Skye’s mouth snaps shut, fear replacing her defiance. She turns and flees.

I turn to Colt, expecting him to be impressed, but his eyes are shadowed. "What?" I ask.

"Did you really have to threaten her like that?" he asks quietly.

"Are you taking her side?" I feel a spike of indignation.

"This isn't about her, Cass," he says, his voice strained. "It's about you. It’s starting to feel like you

enjoy

the fear you cause. It’s like you’re becoming someone else."

"I'm not!" I shout, but the doubt creeps in. Am I?

Colt looks at me, his heart breaking in his eyes. "I love the kindness in you, Cass. Please, don't lose that to the power."

His words haunt me, a cold weight in my chest. I pull him closer, desperate to prove him wrong, but even as I kiss him, I feel a strange, lingering power hum beneath my skin—a power that craves to be used, and perhaps, a part of me that is beginning to enjoy it.