Marcus's P.O.V
I stood just outside the training grounds, arms folded, the low hum of morning drills echoing in the distance. But my eyes weren't on the warriors. They were locked on the eastern wing—the one now guarded round the clock.
Where she was. The rogue girl. The one with the violet eyes and the haunted silence. The one who should've been dead a dozen times by now.
My jaw flexed.
I'd known Kelowna since we were in pampers. Since we ran through blood-soaked woods and sparred until our knuckles split open. I'd seen my King in war, in peace, in the cold moments after executions. Ruthless. Calculated. Always in control.
But this girl…This Karmella…She'd shaken something in him.
I had felt it. The very moment Kelowna stumbled out of that cell—silent, furious, rattled. He hadn't said what happened. Not in full. But I had seen the aftermath.
The blood on the cot.
The dent in the wall.
The edge in Kelowna's voice when he'd barked the orders: Watchher. Guard her. No harm. No questions. It was unlike him. Unsettling. And that's what bothered me the most.
Kelowna had protected her. Not like a prisoner. Like… something else.
I hated rogues. With good reason. Especially after Isabella.
They had no loyalty. No honor. I'd watched them burn villages, slaughter pups, ambush patrols without conscience. Kelowna's sister, Isabella had been taken by them. I had buried friends because of them. I should've looked at Karmella and seen the same. But I didn't.
I saw a girl who didn't flinch under a King's rage.
A girl who stood up on broken legs just to speak her name.
A girl who tried to die—not to escape punishment, but because she believed there was nothing left to fight for.
That haunted me more than I wanted to admit.
And her eyes…
Violet.
Too rare. Too strange.
Eyes that didn't beg for mercy, but didn't fight either.
Just… watched.
She reminded me of something. Or someone. I didn't know what yet. But it made my stomach twist.
I stepped away from the railing and started down the corridor, boots echoing over stone. I told myself I was just checking on the guard rotation. Just making sure orders were followed.
But the truth pulsed just beneath my ribs. I wanted to see her. Not because I trusted her. Not because I believed her.
But because I needed to understand what the hell was happening to my King—and maybe to myself.
Kelowna was at a crossroads, whether he knew it or not.
I would never say it aloud—not to him, not even in my own thoughts for too long—but I had seen it in my best friend's eyes.
He would hesitate again.
When it came to her, Kelowna would pause. Weigh. Question.
That meant the next time the choice came—kill her, protect her, cage her, free her—the decision wouldn't be made in blood or logic.
It would be made with something else. Something dangerous. And if Kelowna wouldn't admit it, I would have to watch for both of them.
Whatever this girl is…She's not done turning this kingdom upside down.
I didn't know why I turned toward the east wing. I wasn't supposed to be here. There were no reports to follow up on. The guards were already rotated. Kelowna hadn't asked me to investigate anything further.
But still… my feet kept moving. Down the long, quiet corridor. Past the guarded checkpoints. Until I stood outside her cell.
The guard on duty stiffened at my presence. "Beta Marcus."
I nodded once. "Open it."
The soldier hesitated. "Sir… the King gave explicit orders—"
"I'm not here to harm her," I said calmly. "And I won't be here long. Besides I am your Beta so step aside."
Still reluctant, the guard complied, unlocking the heavy door with a slow metallic click.
I stepped inside.
She was seated again in the middle of the padded floor, wrapped into herself, knees drawn to her chest. No chains. But no strength, either.
She didn't notice me at first. Then her head lifted slowly. And those violet eyes locked onto mine.
I stopped.
She froze.
Her body went tight—not with challenge, not like she'd done with Kelowna—but with fear.
I could see it in her shoulders, in the way her fingers curled into the fabric around her legs. She didn't move, didn't speak, didn't blink. But her fear sat heavy in the room. I hadn't expected that.
She never looked afraid of Kelowna. But me?
She looked at me like she expected me to break her. And that… unsettled me.
I closed the door quietly behind me and stood a few feet inside.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
No answer. I watched her a moment longer, then crossed my arms.
"You don't flinch from the King," I said. "You don't cry. You don't scream. But you look at me like I'm about to rip you apart. Why?"
Still silence. Then, finally, her voice—dry, cracked, barely a whisper.
"Because he already did."
I didn't expect that. Didn't expect the weight of those words. Didn't expect the ache that lanced across my chest at the way she said it—without venom, without fear. Just simply truth.
I stepped closer instinctively before catching myself. Her breath hitched.
I stopped.
Too close.
I studied her—her posture, her wounds, the way she shrank in on herself even though she hadn't moved an inch. She wasn't lying. And she wasn't trying to manipulate me.
She was just… existing. On the edge of breaking. I frowned slightly. My voice lowered.
"What did they do to you?"
She looked away, jaw trembling just slightly. But no answer came.
I didn't press. I didn't need to. I'd seen girls like her before. Not many—but enough to recognize when someone had lived too long with chains and silence. This wasn't a warrior. This was someone trying to survive breathing.
I didn't know why I came here. Maybe to assess the threat. Maybe to catch her in a lie. Maybe… just to see what it was about her that had rattled our Alpha.
But now, standing here, staring at a girl more ghost than flesh, I didn't feel like a Beta or a soldier. I just felt like a man who wanted to understand. And maybe, somewhere beneath it all…
To protect her.
Even if I didn't know why.
I took one small step back and said, "I don't trust you."
Her eyes flicked up again—empty, resigned.
"I don't trust many people," I added. "But for now… no one's going to hurt you."
Still silence. Still that same shattered expression.
I turned toward the door.
"Just don't give me a reason to regret saying that."
And then, more to myself than her, I muttered—"Because I think we've already done enough damage."