Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Liora’s breathing had finally evened into the deep rhythm of sleep.
Baylin lay motionless beside her, one arm still wrapped around her waist, her head pillowed against his chest. He could feel every inch of her pressed against him—the soft weight of her body, the warmth of her skin, the faint flutter of her pulse beneath his fingertips.
His beast prowled restlessly beneath his skin, demanding more.
Mate, it insisted. Ours. Claim her.
He gritted his teeth and forced the instinct down. The beast didn’t understand concepts like trauma or emotional vulnerability. It only understood possession and protection, the ancient drives that had kept Vultor alive for millennia.
But he knew that what she needed right now wasn’t claiming—it was freedom.
She stirred slightly in her sleep, her brow furrowing as if troubled by dreams. He smoothed a hand over her hair, and the lines on her face eased.
What have I gotten myself into?
He’d come to this tower searching for answers. He’d expected to find abandoned technology. Maybe useful salvage. Perhaps evidence of some long-forgotten research station.
He hadn’t expected to find her.
She made a soft sound and pressed closer to him, her sweet floral scent filling his lungs.
Mate, his beast repeated, more insistently.
He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come.
Instead, his mind worked through the problem from every angle, the tactical part of his brain cataloging variables and calculating risks with the same cold precision he’d once applied to pack security.
The AI was the primary obstacle. ARIS controlled every system in the tower—doors, stairs, communications, even the climate.
It had been programmed to keep Liora contained, and it took that directive seriously.
He’d watched it block her attempt to descend the stairs and seen the polite but implacable way it enforced boundaries.
He’d need to either override the system or disable it entirely.
The first option was preferable, but overriding an AI of this sophistication would require either administrator access or a physical breach of its core systems. The recordings he’d found suggested that administrator access had been held by Liora’s father and, later, by her nursemaid Susan.
Both of them were dead, which meant he’d need to find another way in.
Tomorrow he would return to the lower levels and see if he could find a control room.
And then what?
His jaw tightened. That was the harder question.
Even if he managed to free Liora from the tower, he’d be taking her into a world she’d never experienced.
A world full of dangers she couldn’t begin to imagine—predators, both animal and humanoid, who would see her as prey.
And if anyone learned about her blood...
No one knows, he told himself. Her father hid that secret well.
The recordings weren’t transmitted anywhere.
The supply deliveries were automated and even Ember hadn’t known their purpose.
But secrets had a way of coming out. And a gift like hers was the kind of thing that powerful people would kill to possess.
His arms tightened around her involuntarily.
He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let anyone hurt her or use her. The very thought made his beast snarl with protective rage.
So what’s the plan?
Ember. Rykan’s mate had resources—wealth, connections, and the kind of power that could provide genuine protection. If he could get Liora to them, she’d have options. Real options, not the false choice between captivity and danger.
That meant leaving the tower and crossing miles of jungle.
Navigating terrain that would challenge even a trained warrior, let alone a female who’d never walked more than a few dozen meters in any direction.
He’d have to carry her some of the way. Teach her what she needed to know.
Protect her from everything the jungle could throw at them while simultaneously helping her understand a world she’d only ever read about in books.
The thought should have been daunting, but instead, it felt... right.
Ours to protect, his beast rumbled approvingly. Ours to keep.
He exhaled slowly. He wasn’t ready to examine that thought too closely. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge what his beast had already decided, even if his heart already knew.
One step at a time. First, the AI. Then the journey. Then...
Then I’ll figure out the rest.
The day passed slowly, the rays filtering through the windows gradually lengthening across the floor. He had dozed fitfully throughout the afternoon, never quite sleeping but not entirely awake either—the half-alert state of a predator watching for danger.
Liora hadn’t moved. She remained curled against him, her breathing soft and even, one hand fisted loosely in the fabric of his shirt. In sleep, she looked younger than her twenty-one years and more vulnerable. The tracks of dried tears still marked her cheeks.
He shouldn’t have told her. Not all at once. He should have found a gentler way, given her the truth in pieces instead of shattering her entire worldview in a single morning.
But she’d asked. And he’d promised her honesty.
“I will never lie to you.”
The words echoed in his memory. He’d meant them—meant them with a conviction that surprised even him.
After years of navigating pack politics, of parsing truth from manipulation, of watching his loyalty be used against the very people he was supposed to protect, honesty felt like the only solid ground left.
She finally stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as awareness returned. He watched her process where she was, who she was with, and what had happened earlier that day.
“Baylin?”
“I’m here.”
She tilted her head to look at him, and something in his chest clenched at the raw emotion in her gaze. Trust. Gratitude. And beneath it, a fragile hope that made him want to tear down mountains on her behalf.
“You stayed.”
“I said I would.”
“I know.” She sat up slowly, pushing tangled hair from her face. “But people don’t always keep their promises. At least, that’s what my books say.”
“Your books are probably right about most people.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’m not most people.”
She smiled at that—a small, wavering thing, but genuine. Then the smile faded as memory caught up with her.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it? The recordings. My blood. My father...”
“No. It wasn’t a dream.”
She nodded slowly, processing. He could see her mind working, that sharp intellect sorting through implications even as her heart struggled with the emotional weight.
“I have questions,” she said.
“I know.”
“A lot of questions.”
“I know that too.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then: “Will you answer them? Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“Even the hard ones?”
He met her gaze steadily. “Especially those.”
They moved to the kitchen by unspoken agreement. Pip emerged from wherever he’d been hiding and immediately claimed his usual spot on Liora’s shoulder, chittering reproachfully at both of them.
“He’s upset that I slept all afternoon,” she translated. “He worries.”
“He’s not the only one.”
She shot him a look but didn’t pursue the comment. Instead, she began preparing tea with the automatic efficiency of long habit—filling the kettle, measuring leaves, setting out cups.
He watched her work, cataloging the small details he’d come to recognize over the past few days.
The way she hummed under her breath when concentrating.
The efficiency of her movements, honed by years of conducting experiments in her greenhouse.
The occasional pause to scratch Pip behind his ears, acknowledging the creature’s presence without interrupting her task.
She was extraordinary. He’d known it from the first moment he’d seen her peering down at him from the balcony, but it struck him fresh every time he watched her navigate her small world with such grace.
“You’re staring,” she said without turning around.
“Yes.”
“Does that mean something? In Vultor culture?”
“It means I find you worth looking at.”
She turned then, cheeks flushed. “Oh.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” The flush deepened. “No, it’s... I’m not used to being looked at. By anyone except Pip. And Ari, I suppose, though cameras aren’t really the same thing.”
“ARIS watches you constantly.”
“For my protection.” The words came out automatically, then she winced. “That phrase means something different now, doesn’t it?”
“Probably.”
She set two cups of tea on the table and sat down across from him. Her hands wrapped around her cup, but she didn’t drink.
“Tell me about yourself,” she said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why did you leave your pack?”
There it was. The question he’d been avoiding, even in his own mind.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.” She said it without irony, and he almost laughed at the unintentional dark humor. Of course she had time. Time was all she’d ever had.
He set down his cup.
“I was an enforcer,” he began. “The pack’s warrior, its protector. My closest friend—Rykan—he was the rightful heir to the alpha position. Strong, honorable, the kind of leader a pack deserves.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was betrayed.” The word came out harder than he’d intended.
“His stepmother and his supposed mate conspired against him. They wanted his weaker half-brother to lead instead—someone they could control. Rykan was forced out, and instead of tearing the pack apart to claim what was his, he chose to leave.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s terrible.”
“It was. But I understood his choice. Sometimes the honorable path isn’t the triumphant one.” His jaw tightened. “He asked me to stay. To look after the pack from the inside. To protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”
“And did you?”
“For a while.” The memories rose up—cold and bitter, tinged with the specific shame of compromised principles. “But the new leadership... they didn’t want a protector. They wanted an enforcer in the other sense. Someone to intimidate and hurt people who hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“They wanted you to harm innocent people?”
“They wanted me to be their weapon.” He met her eyes. “I refused. I walked away instead.”
“Like Rykan did.”
“Not exactly. Rykan left to preserve the peace. I left because I couldn’t stomach being complicit anymore.
” He shook his head. “But I’ve spent the past three years wondering if I made the right choice.
Whether I abandoned people who needed me.
Whether I should have fought harder, found another way—”
“No.”
The word was so firm, so certain, that it stopped him mid-thought.
She leaned forward, her blue eyes fierce with conviction. “You didn’t abandon anyone. You refused to become something monstrous, even when powerful people were trying to force you into that shape. That’s not abandonment. That’s integrity.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am sure.” She reached across the table and took his hand.
Her fingers were warm against his. “My father convinced himself that caging me was protection. Your pack’s leaders convinced themselves that cruelty was strength.
Neither of them was right. Sometimes the most honorable choice is the one that looks like giving up. ”
He stared at her. This small female who had never seen the world, who had spent her entire life isolated from any meaningful human contact, had just articulated something he’d been struggling to accept for three years.
“How do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“See things so clearly.”
She smiled—that soft, wondering smile that made his chest ache. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. And a lot of books to help me. Philosophy, ethics, history... I’ve read everything Ari would give me. It’s not the same as experience, but it gives you a certain perspective.”
“It gives you more than that.”
Her smile widened, then faltered. “About leav—”
He cut her off, reaching for her hand.
“Come with me.”