Chapter 6: A Game Of Wills.

Steam curled thickly around Maria as she lowered herself into the bath.

The hot water wrapped around her skin, loosening muscles she hadn’t realized were tight. Dirt dissolved. Dried blood softened and disappeared into rose-scented ripples.

For the first time in years—

She allowed herself to sink fully.

A tired sigh slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

Silence filled the chamber.

Just water.

Just breath.

Her eyes closed.

And her mind wandered.

Auction blocks. Iron chains. Different territories. Different masters.

She had endured them all.

Obeyed just enough to survive.

Disobeyed just enough to be discarded.

Each time she was sold, she watched.

Listened.

Asked subtle questions.

Searching trading posts.

Rogue routes.

Whispers of scarred men with cruel smiles.

But she never found him.

The one who killed her father.

The one who said, You will do.

Her fingers curled beneath the water.

“Father…” she whispered softly.

Her voice sounded small in the large chamber.

“I’m lost.”

The words felt heavier than chains.

A knock sounded at the door.

She opened her eyes immediately, expression hardening.

“My Lady?” the maid’s gentle voice came through. “Supper is prepared. The Lords request your presence in the dining hall.”

Maria leaned back slowly.

The Lords.

A flicker of heat stirred under her skin at the thought of them.

She hated that.

Hated the way her pulse reacted.

Hated the way the bond tugged at her like invisible rope.

Fine.

If they wanted obedience—

She would give them rebellion.

“This is my chance,” she thought.

If she angered them enough… if she proved tr

oublesome enough… perhaps they would grow tired of her.

Sell her.

Send her away.

She rose from the bath and stepped out slowly, wrapping a cloth around herself.

“Tell them,” she said calmly through the door, “that I am not hungry.

There was a pause.

“Yes, my Lady.”

Footsteps retreated.

Maria allowed herself a small, satisfied exhale.

Let them rage.

Let them see she would not bow.

The Dining Hall:

The hall was long and grand, lit by towering candelabras of black iron. A table of dark polished wood stretched nearly the length of the room, set with silver cutlery and crystal goblets.

Ares sat at one end.

Dante lounged at the other.

Neither had begun eating.

The maid approached carefully, head bowed low.

“My Lords… Lady Maria says she is not hungry.”

Silence.

Then—

Dante’s lips curved slowly.

Ares leaned back in his chair, eyes darkening with something almost amused.

“She thinks she is clever,” Dante murmured.

Ares’ voice was calm. Too calm.

“She wishes to provoke us.”

Dante’s golden eyes gleamed.

“How adorable.”

He tapped his fingers lightly against the table.

Ares looked toward the trembling maid.

“Return to her.”

The maid swallowed.

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

“Inform her,” Ares continued evenly, “that if she does not join us within five minutes…”

His gaze shifted slightly toward the guards lining the walls.

“A servant’s head will roll.”

The maid froze.

Dante smiled lazily.

“And another every minute after.”

The air in the hall turned deadly.

Not anger.

Not shouting.

Just certainty.

The maid bowed quickly and fled.

Dante leaned back, stretching casually.

“Let’s see how far her defiance goes.”

Ares’ expression remained unreadable.

“She values control,” he said.

Dante’s smile widened.

“Then we remove it.”

Back in Her Chamber:

The knock returned.

Urgent.

“My Lady…” the maid’s voice trembled now. “The Lords say… if you do not come down… a servant’s head will roll. One every minute.”

Maria went still.

The room felt colder.

“They would not,” she said flatly.

The maid’s silence answered her.

Maria’s jaw tightened.

Of course they would.

This was not a pack.

It was a kingdom built on dominance.

And she had just challenged its rulers.

Her plan had backfired.

She looked toward the door.

Then toward the balcony.

Then back to the door.

She had wanted to anger them.

She hadn’t expected blood.

Her fists clenched.

Fine.

She would go.

But not as submission.

As war.

“Tell them,” she said calmly, “I’m coming.”

The maid ran again.