Chapter 6 - Naia
I’ve never felt this useless in my life.
Not when I was younger and struggling to keep up with training. Not even when I first realized how much harder I had to fight just to stand in the same space as everyone else, or when I started to feel everyone turn their backs on me after Dad died.
This is different and suffocating in its own ways.
I’ve been stuck inside Zane’s apartment, pacing the same floors, staring at the same walls, and breathing the same air while the world keeps moving without me. While my pack keeps moving without me, completely unaware of where I am.
My jaw tightens as I lean against the window, arms crossed, while I watch the city below. Ashford never sleeps, it seems. Unlike on the island, cars move in endless streams, people go about their lives as if nothing is wrong in their city, and the noise never stops.
While they move, I’m stuck in here doing nothing, and it makes my skin crawl.
Behind me, I can feel him, as always.
Zane’s presence has become impossible to ignore. It fills the space whether he’s speaking or not, like a constant weight pressing at the edge of my awareness, even when I just want to be alone.
It has been even worse after he found out about the powers. I barely understand myself.
My fingers curl slightly against my arms as I think about how wrong it sounds to say in my mind. Magic. That was never supposed to be a part of me. I was just a shifter, albeit an Omega, but nothing more.
It’s not something I grew up with, and certainly not something I was trained for. It doesn’t fit neatly into the rules I’ve spent my entire life following, and now, he knows I have it. The thought alone puts me on edge.
Knowing him, information is leverage, and his having this on me puts the advantage straight into his hands.
I can only imagine how he must see me now…leverage, potentially a weapon, or maybe just another piece on the board to be moved at his will.
At best, he’ll tell his Alpha friends, and they’ll see me as an even bigger threat. A risk they’ll need to contain, as if Zane keeping me in house arrest isn’t bad enough.
No way. That’s not happening.
I refuse to let him or anyone else define me like that. After everything I’ve endured and everything I’m currently trying to do, I won’t let them reduce me to a problem to be solved.
Which is why I’ve been spending my time here doing the opposite of what he wants. If I can’t leave or act, then I’ll push. I’ll disrupt him in any way that I can because I refuse to sit here and accept this.
Turning slowly from the window, I glance over at Zane to find him sitting at the kitchen island again with his laptop open. His focus has been locked on whatever he’s working on to an almost eerie degree, and that control he has is infuriating to me.
Honestly, it’s a bit impressive, but I’m not telling him that part.
“Do you ever stop?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He doesn’t even look up from the screen. “No.”
Good…he’s still responsive.
“What are you even doing?” I push, strolling a bit more casually toward the kitchen like I’m not deliberately invading his space or disrupting him.
“I’m working.”
“On what?”
“Things that don’t concern you,” he murmurs, pretending that his complete attention is devoted to his screen.
“Sounds boring,” I say with a sigh, leaning back against the nearby countertop with my arms crossed.
Finally, he glances at me, but only for a beat, then he looks at the laptop again.
“Are you planning on giving me vague answers, or are you going to tell me something useful at some point?” I ask, purposely trying to sound a bit clueless. “You know, since you did talk like this is a collaborative effort before.”
Zane’s fingers pause briefly above the keyboard, then he sighs and continues typing. “I don’t owe you a briefing.”
“Maybe not in your eyes, but if you’re going to keep me here, you might as well make it interesting.”
Looking up slowly, his eyes meet mine as they narrow just enough for me to notice. “I’m not here to entertain you, and if I decide you don’t need to know something, then you don’t.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter. “This whole situation feels like some kind of weird power play.”
His gaze sharpens, clearly starting to let me under his skin. “It’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
He doesn’t answer. Of course not.
“You know,” I begin again, watching for every micro reaction from him, “for someone so concerned about strategy, you’re not doing a great job of keeping me in the dark.”
He exhales through his nose, long suffering. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark.”
“It sure seems like you’re trying to, at least. To your credit, I don’t know what you’re planning, who you’ve contacted, or if you’ve told your little Alpha friends about me yet.”
When his shoulders tighten, I know I’ve found a point worth poking, and I dig deeper, trying to hide my satisfaction.
“You have told them, haven’t you?” I press, stepping closer. “About the auction, you buying me, the magic. I bet they’d like to know.”
His gaze flicks to me, far sharper than before, as irritation comes off him in waves. “Drop it.”
I smile, lacking any real warmth. “Why? Worried I’ll figure out your angle?”
“I don’t have an angle.”
“Everyone has an angle, especially you.”
“Not everything is a game, Naia,” Zane mutters, not doing well at hiding his annoyance. “And you don’t know everything. Not anymore.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. You’re always strategizing. Always looking for the opportune moment to make your move. Even before, that’s what you’ve always done,” I goad him, finding a new satisfaction in being as irritating as possible.
His expression darkens, and he resorts to silence to keep me from digging even more.
I lean in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel deliberate. “So what’s the plan? Are you just going to keep me here until I fall in line and decide you’re right?”
His eyes lock onto mine, taking this much more seriously than I am. “I’m waiting until you stop trying to run back into a bad situation and to realize I’m not doing this to hurt you.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “So never, then. Got it.”
With no effective way to hide his anger now, the tension in his features pulls, and I catch every second of it.
Standing up straight, I pace away again before he can respond, far too pleased with myself. Already, this is way better than staring at the walls.
“Have you figured it out yet?” I call over my shoulder innocently.
Zane sighs to himself, likely questioning whether or not he should entertain this. “Figured what out?”
“How you’re going to fix this mess you made.”
“I didn’t make it.”
“You escalated it.”
“I contained it.”
“By buying me,” I throw back pointedly, glancing over my shoulder to watch as his jaw tightens again. I can practically see the restraint he’s trying so hard to keep in place.
It makes me want to push harder.
“For someone who claims he’s not my enemy, you’re doing a great job of acting like one.”
“That’s funny,” he mutters, looking close to his wits’ end. “I was about to say the same thing.”
I grin to myself. “That’s because you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are.”
After a beat, Zane shuts the laptop a little harder than necessary.
Now that’s the sound of progress.
Fixing me with a sharp look, clearly unimpressed, he murmurs, “You done?”
“Not even close.”
“Then get to the point,” he urges me, starting to look like he wishes he had never brought me here in the first place. If only that were true.
I cross my arms with a subtle lift of my chin, silently letting him know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make him crack. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“How original.”
“Try again,” Zane challenges me.
“I will,” I say easily. “As many times as it takes.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I can feel the irritation simmering just beneath the surface now. The sooner he realizes I won’t quit, the better.
“Seriously, Zane,” I continue, letting my tone shift just slightly into something less mocking and more direct. “What do you think is going to happen here?”
When he doesn’t answer, I keep going. “You keep me locked up long enough, and I just…change my mind? Decide I don’t need to go back?”
“That would be a start.”
I snort at the subtle sarcasm in his tone. “Not happening.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“Not really. I’m still going to leave,” I counter, regardless of knowing he has the upper hand here.
His eyes narrow. “Not while I can stop you.”
I tilt my head. “So you’ll just watch me every second of every day?”
“Yes.”
The answer is immediate, and far too certain to be rational. For a second, something in my chest stutters with something else rather than fear, but I ignore it.
“That sounds exhausting,” I say lightly, crossing my arms over my chest. “And very time-consuming, especially for someone like you.”
“It is exhausting. Just like it is to listen to your millions of questions every day,” Zane utters, pinching at his nose like he can’t wait to get himself out of this situation.
“As it should be.”
A flicker of something almost like amusement crosses his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. That used to be an easy thing for him before, but now, he doesn’t give it away as freely.
For a quiet moment, I study him.
The way he holds himself, the tension in his shoulders, and the constant awareness he never seems to drop. Even when he’s exhausted, he doesn’t stop.
But he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be.
Not by this, or by me. For some reason, that thought sends a strange thrill through me.
I shouldn’t enjoy pestering him like this, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than feeling like nothing, or losing my mind to boredom.
So I push again.
“You’re slipping.”
His brow furrows slightly. “How so?”
“You’re getting irritated. You never let that happen, at least, as long as you can help it,” I muse, well aware that I’m hitting every point and forcing him to focus on me rather than his work.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” I say, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “You were more controlled before.”
“I’m still controlled.”
“Sure you are.”
His jaw tightens again, but it doesn’t stop me from taking a step closer, deliberately invading his space now. As his eyes connect fully with mine, revealing more of his irritation now, something strange scurries down my spine.
“You don’t like not being able to manage me,” I say quietly.
“I am managing you,” Zane retorts, saying it like he means it, but I already know he’s starting to doubt his grip. I just need him to doubt it even more, and maybe I’ll start getting somewhere.
I shake my head slowly, not afraid to hold his gaze. “No, you’re containing me. That’s different.”
His gaze drops briefly to where I’m standing, far too close, before lifting back to mine. I catch as something unreadable moves through his features, only deepening my curiosity. If only I could peer into his mind.
“And you don’t like being contained.”
“No,” I agree softly. “I don’t. You should already know that by now.”
The silence that sticks between us now is charged and almost familiar in a way I don’t want to think about. As much as I want to keep pushing and annoying him, I step back first to break that tension.
The way it pulls me in isn’t something I’m ready to deal with. Not now, and especially not when everything else is already shifting under my feet.
“Face it,” I say as I turn away again, my voice lighter and easier, as if I weren’t up to something. “You’re stuck with me just as much as I’m stuck with you.”
“I noticed,” Zane says dryly.
“And if you’re not going to let me leave, then I’m going to make this as difficult as possible for you.”
I expect him to fight back, or to warn me to watch myself, at the very least. Instead, he murmurs, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I smile, but not kindly.
If I’m going to be trapped here and forced to endure knowing I’m no use to anyone in the meantime, then he’s going to feel it too.