4. Stubborn Little Rogue.

~ LAYLA ~

Fucking little rascal.

Raelin smiles. “Come on, Cupcake. I don’t have all day. Your secret is safe with me.”

His voice sounds so gentle when he talks to the girl, like he is a completely different person. Even with her silly, annoying resistance, he is smiling—really smiling—at her.

That smile stirs something deep inside me. I know it's the mate bond, but it is something warm and dangerously close to longing for him. The way he looks at the girl… it's gentle. Protective. And completely different from the cold, ruthless glares he has been shooting at me since the moment he walked in here.

But now, seeing him this way, I am starting to wonder… maybe he is not completely heartless after all.

Or maybe he is a two-faced asshole.

But at least he is giving me water. A small mercy. That has to mean something, right?

Maybe I’m not going to die down here just yet.

I watch the little girl as she finally hands him the bottle. She looks about eight or nine years old, with soft ash-grey curls falling down her back.

Curls just like mine.

Except hers are a bit shorter and cleanier. Mine hang in long, messy strands over my shoulders, tangled and dirty from being in this cell.

Damn.

“Thanks,” Raelin says to her, now standing up with the bottle in his hand. “Now run along. We don’t want your mom finding out you’re down here.”

The girl plucks nervously at the hem of her blue dress before pointing at me. “But Uncle Ray… why is she locked up? She looks sick—”

“Marina. Time to go.”

Raelin’s voice cuts through the air. Seriously.

The girl frowns at him but doesn’t argue. Instead, she glances at me with big brown eyes full of sympathy and curiosity.

Big brown eyes that are way too sweet and innocent for a place like this.

“I just wanted to say her hair looks like mine,” she adds with a giggle.

Raelin rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed.

With one last glance at me, the girl turns and runs off, her little footsteps fading until everywhere is silent again.

And then, it’s just us. Me and Raelin Michaelson.

He sighs and slowly turns back to me. His softness from earlier has disappeared.

Just like that, he is back to the cold, angry man I have come to know. My mate that hates me.

I want to make some sarcastic comment about Marina being nosy, but the pain in my throat is too much. The thirst is unbearable now, and the cruel irony of water being right there, just a few feet away in his hands, makes the pain even worse.

He walks back to me. His eyes stay locked on mine, and my heart beats faster the closer he gets.

He doesn’t stop until he is standing too close. Way too close to me. There is something intense in his gaze, and I fight to keep still.

Once again, I won’t show weakness. Not in front of him.

“You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my face, his nose almost brushing mine. “But don’t mistake this for mercy. Don’t think for one second that I won’t do whatever it takes to get the truth out of you. You may be my mate, but you’re still a fucking rogue.”

The word 'mate' hits me hard, but I focus on the bottle.

The water is so close. So painfully close.

Then, he twists the bottle cap open.

“Why were you near my pack’s borders?” he asks, hesitating with the water. “What were you running from?”

I press my lips together. Not answering. Not because I’m trying to be brave and stubborn, but because even if I wanted to say anything, I can’t do so since my throat is on fire.

Then, without warning, he lifts the bottle to my lips and tilts it.

Cold water hits my tongue and I almost gasp from the intense relief that is so pure, it makes my knees weak. For a fleeting moment, I nearly forget where I am. I forget the chains. I forget the pain of everything.

All that exists is this sweet, blessed water that is trickling down my throat. And I drink fast, desperate, not even caring how I look.

The bliss of this... it's like having a taste of life after hours of torment.

It’s just me and the water.

But then, Raelin pulls it away.

“Stubborn little rogue, aren’t you?” he mutters. He sets the half-empty bottle aside, his eyes narrowing at me. “Now talk. Tell me the truth, Layla.”

My whole body freezes. How does he know my name?

“Who told you my name?”

He smirks and leans in. “You told me the night we met. Remember?”

“What?!”

He doesn’t respond to my shock. Instead, his eyes drop to the necklace around my neck again. His fingers brush it like he owns it.

“And this,” he says, touching the locket pendant. “It’s beautiful. I think I’ll keep it.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.” I growl, forcing the words out even though my sensible reasoning is telling me not to raise my voice at this Alpha who can end my life with one single order.

He pulls his hand back, but not because he is scared. He just folds his arms and keeps that smug look on his face.

“I wasn’t really asking,” he says. “But the locket is not the problem here. The real problem is you. You have no idea the kind of trouble you’re in.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” I lie.

“Are you sure?" He laughs softly, moving even closer to whisper in my ear.

“You should be, darling,” he says, and this time, his voice chills me to the bone. “Because if you don’t start talking, I’m going to make you wish you had.”

My stomach twists with fear, but I keep my face straight. I have to stay strong. I can’t let him see me break.

Finally, he steps back, stripping me of the warmth of his scent—earthy cinnamon and pines. A scent so comforting yet maddeningly addictive.

He glares at me for a long moment. I glare right back.

“Fuck." He curses under his breath.

Then, without another word, he turns and walks out of the cell. The metal bars slam shut behind him with a loud clang that shakes the whole room.

And it fills me with the gnawing fear that I may never get out of this place alive.