Chapter 4
Varek
She stood at my counter, her fingers still brushing at the mark I’d left on her shoulder, her green eyes distant and shadowed.
I turned away before she could catch me staring and moved to the corner where I kept my supplies. It wasn’t much of a kitchen, just scavenged pans, a hot plate, and a few tins stacked on a rusted shelf, but it was enough to keep a man alive. Enough for two, if she’d let me take care of her.
I pulled out a pan and set it on the plate, pouring in a little oil. The faint sizzle filled the silence. From another tin, I fished out strips of dried venison. The smell was smoky, but good. I glanced over my shoulder.
“You’ll eat better tonight, I promise,” I told her. “Not just jerky.”
She blinked, eyes narrowing slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she should thank me or bite my head off. I let it slide. She’d come around in her own time.
The venison hissed as it hit the pan. I stirred it with a battered wooden spoon, watching the edges brown. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was preparing just another meal for another day of war. I was cooking… for her.
“Tell me more about Kendra and Lia,” I began carefully, my voice low. “Tell me what you remember before…” I trailed off, letting the weight of captivity hang unspoken between us.
Her lips parted, her throat working like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to give me anything, but then, slowly, she leaned forward, her elbows on the counter.
“The night before Kendra was taken,” she said softly, “we snuck into the old mall.”
I glanced at her, then back at the pan, letting her take all the time she needed to tell the story in her own way.
“We found our way into one of the theaters,” she went on. “The screen still worked, somehow. The power grid flickered on for a few hours at night, and I was the one who figured out how to work the projector.”
Her eyes softened with the memory, her lips curving faintly. “We watched The Breakfast Club. Some ancient movie with a group of teenagers being detained after school. Their world was so small, so… normal. And we sat there, in a room full of broken seats and mildew, pretending we were normal too.”
Her voice broke, just a fraction. “We laughed. For a few hours, it wasn’t wolves and fear and the terrible world we lived in. It was just… us. Just us friends.”
I listened in silence, the spoon pausing in my hand. I could see it as she spoke, three girls curled up in a ruined theater, light flickering on their faces, laughter echoing in the dark. I wished I could have seen it.
I swallowed hard, turning back to the pan. “Sounds like a good night.”
“It was,” she whispered.
I plated the food, browned venison with a bit of canned potatoes, and set it in front of her. She looked down at the plate, then up at me, suspicion and gratitude warring in her eyes.
I leaned against the counter across from her, folding my arms. “You’ll have nights like that again,” I said quietly. “Not the same. Nothing ever is. But you’ll laugh with them again. You’ll be with them again.”
Her eyes locked on mine, wary but hopeful, then they softened just a bit. For the first time since I’d claimed her, she didn’t look like she wanted to claw my eyes out.
She ate slowly, her fork scraping the edge of the dented tin plate. I let her have the silence, let her decide if she wanted to keep talking.
When her plate was half-empty, I cleared my throat. “Tell me about when you tried to escape. With Lia.”
Her hand stilled on the fork. Her eyes flicked up, and her face pinched like I’d pressed on a bruise.
I held her gaze. “Lia told me what happened, in pieces, but I want to hear it from you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Then she sighed, setting the fork down with a faint clatter.
“The night we found out about the fertility drug, the wolves came for all of us. Lia and I slipped out through a broken vent in the warehouse we were hiding in. We thought… maybe… maybe it was our chance to get away for good.”
Her voice caught, and she looked past me, into the shadows of the room. “We made it to the outer gates. I could see the trees. Freedom was right there.”
Her jaw tightened. “But they spotted us. We ran. Hard as we could. And then…” She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “One of them grabbed me. I screamed for Lia to go. To keep running. To find help.”
Her hands clenched tight in her lap. “She didn’t want to leave me, but I made her; I screamed for her to go! I prayed she’d make it out even when I couldn’t.”
I took a slow breath. The thought of her—barefoot, terrified, screaming at her friend to run—tightened my chest until it ached.
“They dragged me back,” she said, more quietly now. “I thought that was it. That they’d make an example out of me. But they didn’t.” Her gaze flicked to mine, defiant, like she expected me not to believe her. “They didn’t hurt me.”
“Not at all?” I pressed, careful.
She shook her head. “No. Not in the ways I feared. They shoved me into a cell. Locked me up tight. But they never laid hands on me.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face. Like she hadn’t expected me to mean it.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter, close enough for her to feel my heat, but not so close she’d think I was crowding her. “You did what you had to do that night. You gave Lia a chance. And because of that, she’s alive. That’s strength, Mariah, not weakness.”
She looked at me then, really looked, and for a heartbeat her eyes shined with something other than malice.
“You don’t know what it means to me,” she whispered. “Hearing that they’re alive.”
Her voice broke a little. “For so long, I thought they were gone. That I’d lost them the same way I’ve lost everyone else. Every night in those cells, I’d lie awake and wonder if I’d ever hear them laugh again. If they’d… if they’d already been bred until they broke.”
Her voice faltered, and she pressed her lips together hard, shaking her head.
“But now…” She looked up at me, her green eyes shimmering in the low light. “Now you tell me they’re alive. That they’ve found mates who love and protect them. That they’re… happy.” Her chest lifted with a shaky inhale. “God, Varek. Do you know what that does to me? To know they’re happy?”
I nodded once to show her that I understood. “I can imagine.”
“No,” she said sharply, her voice trembling with a force she probably didn’t even realize was there.
“You can’t. Because you were never vulnerable the way we were; you couldn’t be.
You were a man. You can never know the fear we felt every single day.
All my life, they were what kept me sane.
Lia and Kendra were my anchors. My family.
And now—” she exhaled, a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, “now I know I didn’t lose them after all. ”
For a moment, she didn’t look like the feral girl who’d tried to rip my throat out in the corridor. She didn’t look like the woman glaring daggers at me for marking her.
She just looked… relieved.
“They’re okay,” I said quietly. “And so are you.”
Her lips curved, faint and trembling, like the smallest smile might break her in two. She set her glass down and looked at me, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Tell me about them. The men. The ones who mated Lia and Kendra.”
I tilted my head. “You want to know if they’re worthy of your friends.”
“Of course I do.” Her chin lifted stubbornly. “They’re my family. I need to know they’re safe with those men. That they’re not—” She stopped, jaw tightening, the words choking off.
I understood. That they’re not like the wolves who caged her.
“They’re not,” I said firmly. “Silas—he’s the one with Lia—he’s as alpha as they come, but he’s not cruel.
He’s fair, strong, a good leader, and he’d fight to his last breath for her.
He damn near did. And Rowan, Kendra’s mate…
He is as hard and rough and immovable as a mountain, but she softens him.
You should see how he melts when he’s near her. ”
Mariah’s eyes softened as she listened, though her mouth still pressed tight. “And you think they’re really… happy?”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter. “I don’t have to think it. I saw it. They chose those men as much as the bond chose them. They’re not just surviving, Mariah; they’re thriving.”
“That makes me feel better,” she whispered, almost to herself.
Silence settled between us, but it was warm. She held my gaze longer than before, and I let her.
“You’re not what I expected,” she admitted after a beat, her voice gentler than it had been all night.
I arched a brow. “And what did you expect?”
Her mouth curved faintly. “A monster.”
I huffed out a low laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I am a monster when I need to be. Make no mistake. But with you…” Now it was my throat that tightened, the words nearly sticking. “With you, I don’t want to be.”
She looked down at her hands, then back at me, her cheeks tinged a faint rosy pink.
I stood, breaking the spell before it unraveled. “You’ve been through enough tonight. You should take a bath.”
Her brows shot up. “A bath?”
“Yes.” I gestured toward the narrow door off to the side. “Come. I’ll show you.”
I led her to the small bathroom tucked away in the corner of my quarters.
The lighting was soft, the fixtures salvaged but surprisingly intact.
A deep copper tub sat against the wall, and a stack of towels, clean and folded, rested on the shelf.
Her eyes widened, as if she’d expected filth and grime from a mere male.
I opened the cabinet, pulling out bottles of shampoo and conditioner, setting them on the counter beside the tub. “There’s soap, too.”
She looked at the bottles, then at me, lips parting in surprise.
“For you,” I said simply. “You deserve more than cages and filth. Start with this.”
Her eyes shimmered, she pressed her full lips together, and for once, she didn’t argue.