Chapter 56 #2
Kaelen’s lips curled into a faint, humourless smile. “The better question is, how far are you willing to fall? Because I promise you, I’ve got farther to go.”
Reiya’s breath hitched, the weight of their standoff pressing down on her like the very walls of the cavern. Her throat bobbed against the blade, the chill biting into her. Her mind raced, searching for a way to tip the balance, to break the deadlock before blood was spilled.
“Castiel,” she whispered, her voice steady enough to reach him. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve let me go before—on the ship. You left the cabin door open. You gave me a chance to escape.”
Her words hung in the air. For a moment, she thought she felt it—a faint quiver in the hand against her skin, that crack making itself known again.
Then, he laughed, long, low, and bitter.
“Escape?” he echoed. “Is that what you thought? That I wanted you free?” He shook his head, the chuckle returning, darker now. “No, dove. I left that door open hoping you’d jump. Hoping the ocean would take you. It was the only kindness I could give you.”
The words were a fist to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.
Her chest clenched, a hollow ache spreading beneath her sternum, leaving her raw and trembling inside.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear anything but the soundless shatter of something breaking deep within .
“Kindness?” The word barely scraped past her throat, thin and cracked.
Castiel leaned closer, his tone calm and calculated.
“A quick death in the sea is better than what was waiting for you at our destination.” He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of mirth, of warmth. “I wanted to spare you that. But you just had to survive, hadn’t you?”
Her pulse pounded in her ears, but the rest of the world seemed muted, distant. That memory—of the door creaking open, of the faint glimmer of hope she’d clung to—shattered, its pieces cutting deep.
He hadn’t wanted to save her. He’d wanted her gone. Dead.
Her mind turned to the boy she’d once known, the one who’d cowered at storms and garden snakes but had always found safety with her. She searched for some trace of him now, some sliver of regret, of humanity, but there was nothing.
A hollow ache yawned wide. An irretrievable piece of her had been lost. Castiel’s cruelty wasn’t just calculated—it was final. That last shred of hope she’d held onto, that faint belief he could still be that boy , vanished.
Her hands shook, but she steadied herself. There was no room for grief now, no space for the pain clawing at her chest.
He wasn’t her friend, perhaps never was.
He was her captor, her enemy.
Reiya’s gaze darted to Alarik and saw his focus solely on her, and saw the trust she knew how to get herself out of this situation. Her breath steadied, her hand curling into a fist as she recalled his patient instructions during their training session.
Leverage. Surprise. Go for the wrist.
Castiel didn’t notice her shift in stance, still too absorbed in the revelation. He still saw her as helpless, unaware of the resolve hardening within her.
He wouldn’t see it coming.
With a deep inhale, she moved. Her hand shot up to grip Castiel’s wrist, fingers digging into the sensitive underside where tendons and nerves ran close to the surface.
She twisted sharply, using her weight and the element of surprise to wrench his arm upward.
The blade wavered in his grasp, his shock palpable as he stumbled back a step.
“What in the?—”
She didn’t give him time to recover. Pivoting on her heel, she slammed her elbow into his forearm, the force jolting the knife free from his grip. The blade clattered to the ground, the sound sharp and final against the stone.
Without hesitation, she kicked it away, the weapon skidding across the cavern floor to land near Kaelen’s boots.
Castiel’s composure shattered as he lunged, but she was already shifting, one foot sliding back, knees bent, weight balanced.
Her hands rose instinctively—defensive, steady—her body remembering what fear tried to erase.
She trusted it completely. Her breaths came fast and shallow, but her stance held firm, refusing to yield.
He skidded to a halt, staring at her as though she’d transformed beyond recognition.
“You lost the moment you assumed I’m still the girl you betrayed.” Her voice was quiet, every word honed to a blade’s edge.
They had the upper hand now, but Reiya wouldn’t run into the safety of Kaelen’s and Alarik’s arms—not just yet.
Not while there was still unfinished business with Castiel. Not while the weight of his actions demanded to be confronted.
“This is the end, Castiel,” Alarik said, his voice dripping with finality. “You have nothing now.”
Castiel’s eyes narrowed, the faintest twitch betraying his tension. “What about the Xian family? The little girl Mei Mei?” His tone was edged with mockery, but the defiance was clear. “If you think I’d give away their locations so easily?—”
“You don’t need to,” Kaelen cut in, his words as smooth as they were firm. He turned to Reiya, a flicker of pride in his gaze. “Reiya had it all figured out quite quickly, hadn’t you, love?”
Before Castiel could respond, the steady cadence of boots echoed against the cave walls. Captain Marzius stepped forward, his crisp uniform and composure shattered the tension.
He spoke calmly, and loudly, “A Sparo has just arrived, my princes, bearing word that the Xians have been found and rescued. They are on their way to the Turasid Palace as we speak.”
He inclined his head in a polite bow before retreating into the shadows, his words lingering like a nail driven into Castiel’s crumbling position.
“You underestimated our familiarity with our lands,” Kaelen said, stepping closer. “We’ve made careful study of the northern regions. Hassamir, considering he’s been working with you, should’ve advised you better.”
“You have no more leverage over us, Castiel,” Alarik added. “Come with us willingly. Peacefully.”
Castiel smirked, the expression a blade’s edge of defiance. “You really think it’s that simple, don’t you?”
Reiya stepped forward before either of her Alphas could answer. Her gaze locked onto the man who’d once been her friend, but was now a stranger cloaked in cruelty.
She asked the question she wanted answered most.
“Why?”
His smirk deepened. “My freedom is better than the illusion you’re clinging to. This world? It’s a cage, built on instincts and bonds designed to keep you docile. I’m offering something real —a world where no one decides your fate but you.”
A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “Strange, isn’t it—how easily those words come to you while you’retrying to decide my fate.”
Castiel opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.
She shook her head. “Real freedom doesn’t come from tearing everything apart. It comes from building something worth fighting for. You think rejecting bonds makes you free? It doesn’t. It only makes you alone.”
His jaw tightened, but he pressed on, his tone darkening. “Alone is better than enslaved. What you call love and trust are merely chains disguised as choices. I’m giving you the chance to break them.”
“No,” she snapped. “You’re not breaking chains—you’re replacing them with your own. You talk about freedom, but all you’ve done is strip away my choices all the same and force your own version of control. You’re no better than the Alphas you despise—just another tyrant with a prettier lie.”
For a heartbeat, she saw him—not the man before her, cold and sharp-edged, but the boy she’d once trusted, the boy who had stood at her side with laughter in his eyes and promises on his tongue. For a moment, the ache of that memory tightened in her chest.
And then, slowly, she released it—the last fragile thread of the Castiel she’d known.
Her voice softened, barely a breath. “You were my closest friend, Castiel. And you broke my heart.”
For a long moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of her words. For the first time, his smirk wavered—not from anger or defiance, but as if he’d finally begun to glimpse the road that had led him here.
And perhaps, just how far it had taken him.
No one spoke, the tension stretching like a drawn bowstring. Castiel’s hands twitched, as if he were fighting some last urge to defy them all.
His jaw tightened. “You think you’ve won?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “When you’re just living in a different kind of cage?”
But even as he said it, something flashed in his gaze.
And then the tension snapped—not with violence, but with a soft exhale and a low, bitter laugh.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
The smirk that followed was brittle, but it was the closest thing to resignation she’d seen from him.