Raven's POV
"An army?" I stare at Caspian in disbelief. "How many?"
"At least a hundred rogues." His hands grip the windowsill so hard his knuckles turn white. "They've surrounded the estate. They're not attacking yet—just... waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
He turns to me, his silver eyes haunted. "For you."
My stomach drops. "Me?"
"Kieran's demanding your release. Says if Magnus hands you over peacefully, no one has to die." He crosses to me quickly. "But my father will never agree. He'd rather burn the entire pack to the ground than let you go."
"Because I'm too valuable," I say bitterly.
"Because he's a stubborn fool who cares more about control than lives." Caspian takes my hands. "Raven, listen to me carefully. Things are about to get very dangerous. I need you to stay in this room no matter what happens. Lock both doors. Don't open them for anyone except me."
"You're leaving me here? Alone?"
"I have to help defend the pack. But I swear—" his grip tightens, "—I will not let anyone hurt you. Not Kieran. Not my father. No one."
Before I can respond, he's gone, disappearing through the connecting door.
I'm alone with an army outside demanding my surrender.
Perfect.
Hours pass. The explosions stop, but the tension doesn't. I hear wolves running through corridors, shouting orders, preparing for battle.
No one comes to my room. No one checks on me.
I'm forgotten in the chaos. Invisible again.
Except I'm not invisible anymore. I'm the reason for all of this.
I pace my gilded cage, my mind racing. Should I surrender myself? Would that stop the fighting? Save lives?
But what would Kieran do with me? Use me like Magnus does? Or something worse?
A soft knock on my door makes me jump.
"Miss Raven?" A young female voice. "I have something for you."
I crack the door open carefully. A teenage omega girl stands there, holding a vase of white roses.
"From Alpha Caspian," she says shyly. "He wanted you to have these."
Flowers. He's sending me flowers while an army surrounds us.
I take the vase silently. The girl hurries away.
I stare at the roses—perfect, expensive, meaningless.
Then I throw the entire vase in the trash.
The gifts keep coming.
The next morning, books appear outside my door. Classic novels, poetry, even a journal with a leather cover.
I stack them in the corner without opening them.
That afternoon, chocolates. The expensive kind that probably cost more than I earned in a year of scrubbing floors.
Trash.
By evening, I'm furious. Does he really think gifts will fix anything? That flowers and chocolates erase rejection and imprisonment?
The knock comes just after sunset.
Not a delivery this time. Caspian himself, standing outside my door.
"Raven?" His voice is soft. Broken. "Can we talk? Please?"
I sit on my bed, arms crossed, staring at the door. Not answering.
"I know you're angry," he continues. "You have every right to be. I destroyed us. Destroyed you. And nothing I do will ever make that right."
Silence from me.
"But I need you to understand..." His voice cracks. "Rejecting you was the worst mistake of my life. Every day since then has been torture. My wolf won't stop clawing at me, demanding I fix what I broke. And I—"
A shaky breath.
"I can't sleep. Can't eat. Can't think about anything except you. How much I hurt you. How much I hate myself for being such a coward."
I close my eyes, forcing myself not to feel sympathy.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he says. "I don't deserve it. I'm just... I'm just asking you to believe that I'm sorry. That if I could go back and choose differently, I would choose you. Every time. No matter what my father said or what the pack thought. I would choose you."
My throat tightens. I will not cry. Will not let him affect me.
"The gifts are stupid," he continues with a broken laugh. "I know they are. But I don't know how else to show you that I'm thinking about you. That I care. That I—"
He stops. Long silence.
"That I love you," he finally whispers. "I love you, Raven Thorne. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it—even if you never speak to me again."
Footsteps. He's leaving.
I should feel victorious. He's suffering like I suffered. That's justice, right?
So why do I feel so hollow?
The gifts stop after that night.
No more flowers. No more books. No more attempts to buy my forgiveness.
Instead, something else starts happening.
During my daily proximity sessions, Dr. Thorne begins praising Caspian constantly.
"Remarkable control, Alpha! Your power stabilization has improved by seventy percent!"
"Excellent vital signs! You're recovering beautifully!"
"The pack bond is strengthening because of your resilience!"
Never once does he mention me. Never acknowledges that I'm the reason for any improvement.
It's like I'm furniture. A tool. Necessary but not noteworthy.
Caspian notices. I can see it in his face—the guilt, the frustration, the desire to correct the doctor.
But he doesn't. Because speaking up would mean challenging pack hierarchy. Admitting an omega matters.
And he's not brave enough for that.
Each session, I sit silently while they measure how my presence fixes him. While they praise his strength and ignore my sacrifice.
Each session, I die a little more inside.
But I also learn something important.
I'm getting stronger.
The sedatives they give me before each session? They're wearing off faster. My mind stays clearer. My power—whatever it is—hums just beneath my skin, waiting.
And Caspian watches me the entire time. Every session. His eyes never leave my face.
It makes me uncomfortable. Angry. And something else I refuse to name.
One week after the gifts stopped, something changes.
I'm sitting through another session, tuning out Dr. Thorne's endless praise of Caspian, when I feel it.
A presence. Outside the medical wing. Watching.
My head snaps toward the door.
Caspian notices immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's out there," I whisper.
Dr. Thorne frowns. "The guards would have reported—"
The lights go out.
Emergency generators kick in, bathing everything in red. Alarms wail.
"Security breach!" A guard's voice over the intercom. "All personnel to defensive positions!"
Dr. Thorne rushes to lock the door, but it explodes inward before he reaches it.
A figure steps through the smoke—tall, powerful, moving with predatory grace.
Kieran Nightshade smiles at us.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says pleasantly. "But I'm here to collect what's mine."
Guards flood the hallway behind him. Twenty. Thirty. More.
Kieran doesn't even look concerned.
"Stand down," he tells them calmly. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here for the Primordial Omega. Give her to me, and I'll leave peacefully."
"Over my dead body," Caspian snarls, positioning himself between Kieran and me.
"That can be arranged." Kieran's smile sharpens. "But it doesn't have to be. Raven—" he looks past Caspian directly at me, "—you know what they're doing to you. Drugging you. Using you. Turning you into their weapon. Is that really the life you want?"
"Don't listen to him!" Caspian begs. "He's manipulating you—"
"Am I?" Kieran interrupts. "Or am I the only one telling her the truth? That she deserves freedom. Choice. Power of her own instead of being everyone's tool.