Eyes 18

The morning after was golden and perfect, like the universe was teasing me with false hope.

Cassian looked peaceful for once—no stress lines, no weight-of-the-world shoulders. Just steady breathing and skin that caught the light like he was carved from something divine instead of supernatural drama.

I traced patterns on his chest, thinking maybe—just maybe—we’d figured it out. The bond hummed contentedly between us, and for thirty seconds I actually believed we might get a happily-ever-after.

Then someone knocked on the door like they were trying to break it down.

“Seriously?” I muttered, grabbing a robe. “It’s like the universe has a personal vendetta against good mornings.”

The courier looked like he’d sprinted here from hell itself. Sweaty, breathless, clutching a scroll sealed with bloodred wax.

I didn’t need to see the snarling wolf’s head to know who’d sent it.

“Valen,” I said flatly. “Of course.”

The bond went from warm contentment to arctic freeze in about two seconds. Cassian was awake and moving before I’d even opened the damn thing.

“What does it say?” he asked, already reaching for his sword.

I unrolled the message, scanning the flowery bullshit language that basically boiled down to: “Give me back my property or I’ll burn everything down.”

“He’s marching on the capital,” I said. “Calling you a traitor. Calling me his stolen mate.” I looked up. “Real charming guy, my ex-Alpha.”

The palace exploded into chaos. Bells, running footsteps, the kind of frantic energy that screamed “holy shit, we’re about to have a war.”

Naturally, I wasn’t invited to the emergency council meeting.

“Shocking,” I said to the empty room. “The Omega gets locked in her tower while the big boys discuss strategy.”

But I could hear them through the walls—voices raised, furniture probably getting thrown around.

“We cannot trust the report!” Cassian’s voice carried, sharp enough to cut glass. “Valen has lied before!”

“He is marching on the capital,” came King Toren’s ice-cold response. “That is not a lie.”

“She is not his!” Cassian growled, and I felt the words through the bond like a physical force.

“She was,” some Elder chimed in. “Enough to make the West bleed for her.”

Then the killing blow: “This is war. And it’s her fault.”

The words hit like a slap. Even through stone walls, they found their mark.

“No,” Cassian’s voice was hoarse. “It’s mine.”

But they weren’t listening. They’d already decided who to blame.

By noon, the guards came for me. Polite smiles, firm hands, the kind of escort that said “we’re not arresting you, but you’re definitely not free.”

“Let me guess,” I said as they walked me back to my room. “Protective custody?”

No answer. Shocker.

The door shut with that special sound that meant “you’re fucked and we all know it.”

I tested the window. Sealed tight. The view was gorgeous—roses, stonework, the kind of scenic bullshit that belonged on a postcard.

“Great,” I said to no one. “Back to Hotel Prison. At least the amenities are nice.”

I pressed my palm against the glass until it fogged up, watching soldiers move around below like ants preparing for the apocalypse.

Hours crawled by. The bond flickered between worry and rage, probably picking up whatever emotional shitstorm Cassian was dealing with in his meetings.

Then footsteps in the hall. Sharp, familiar, moving fast.

“Lucy!” His voice cut through everything, raw and desperate.

I ran to the door, heart hammering. “Cassian?”

He was on the other side—I could feel him through the wood. Probably looked like hell if his voice was any indication.

“I’ll fight them all if I have to,” he said, words coming out in a rush. “I’ll rip down the court. I’ll tear through Valen’s army. I’ll make them all see you’re not his.”

“I know,” I said, touching the door like I could reach him through it. “But they don’t care about the truth. They care about politics.”

“I do. I care more than anyone ever has.”

My voice cracked. “Then get me out of here.”

“I’m trying. They won’t listen to me either.”

“Don’t let them use you,” I whispered, because I could hear it in his voice—the desperation that made people do stupid, heroic things.

His forehead hit the door with a soft thud. “I can’t breathe when you’re locked away. I can’t—Lucy—”

Then boots in the hallway. Authority voices. The kind that meant his time was up.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Wait—”

But he was already gone, leaving me with a closed door and the echo of his voice saying my name like a prayer.

I went back to the window, watching the sky shift from blue to gold to something darker.

Thinking about the first time I met Valen—how his smile had seemed charming instead of predatory. How I’d been stupid enough to think being chosen was the same as being loved.

Now he was coming to collect his property.

And I was the prize everyone wanted to fight over.

“Fantastic,” I said to my reflection in the glass. “I’m officially a war trophy.”

The bond pulsed once, sending a wave of determination that definitely wasn’t mine.

Cassian was planning something. Something that probably involved a lot of violence and very little strategy.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I whispered to the empty room.

But I already knew he would.

Because that’s what people did when they loved someone.