The Deal With The Alpha

Chapter 9 — The rules of the cage

I stood still until I heard the maid’s soft, respectful knock. My heart was still pounding from Kilian’s intimate invasion and his brazen demand for my size. I quickly grabbed a robe and opened the door just wide enough to see a small woman holding a pile of silk.

“My lady, I am Maya. The Alpha sent these for your immediate use,” she whispered, her eyes wide and nervous. She carefully handed me a set of midnight-blue silk pajamas. I was relieved they were long-sleeved and modest, not the sheer, revealing lingerie I’d half expected from his arrogance.

“Thank you, Maya.” I managed a thin smile. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Only that dinner is served in the main dining hall,” she replied, her gaze darting nervously past me. “The Alpha is waiting. Please follow me when you are ready.” I closed the door, quickly changing out of the towel and into the expensive, buttery soft silk. I felt instantly more composed, preparing myself for the next inevitable confrontation.

Maya led me through the cavernous hallways, every piece of furniture screaming of ancient wealth and power. My footsteps felt small and hesitant on the vast marble floors. We finally reached a massive dining hall, dominated by a table that could easily seat ten people.

Only two places were set at the very head of the table. Kilian was already seated, looking utterly formidable in a dark dinner jacket. Across from him sat his mother, Veronica Judge, radiating frosty displeasure.

“Here she is, Alpha,” Maya announced, quickly retreating from the room before I could even take a deep breath.

Kilian looked up, his expression unreadable, and then he glanced at his mother.

Veronica’s sharp blue eyes raked over me, stopping critically at the soft silk pajamas. A sneer twisted her perfectly sculpted mouth.

“Kilian, I simply will not tolerate this insult to our pack’s dignity.” She pushed her chair back with a violent scrape that echoed in the vast room. “Dinner with a servant who smells like cheap soap and desperation is beneath me.”

She stood up and glared directly at me, her expression a mask of pure loathing. “Don’t get comfortable, human. You are temporary trash, and I intend to remind you of it daily.”

She didn't wait for a reply from either of us. She swept out of the dining hall. I stood alone, humiliated, fighting the urge to run back to my room and cry. Veronica’s hatred was a physical, choking thing.

“Sit down.” Kilian’s voice was utterly calm, devoid of any anger toward his mother or sympathy toward me.

I slowly pulled out the chair across from him, sitting down at the enormous table. The distance between us, even seated, felt like miles.

“Ignore my mother,” Kilian commanded, picking up his fork. “She’s territorial, but predictable. She knows you are nothing more than a contract. You will offer her the respect due to the Alpha Female, and you will endure her insults in silence.”

“Endure?” I scoffed, unable to contain my indignation. “She just called me trash and refused to eat at the same table. I am your wife now, Kilian, even if it’s fake.”

He leveled a cool, steady gaze at me that silenced my protests instantly. “You are my contracted asset, Amber. Nothing more. She is the Alpha Female. Her word holds more weight in this house than your tears ever will.” He paused, picking a piece of food off his plate.

“Let me be perfectly clear about the rules here. You will not leave your room without my direct escort or permission from Drake. You will not attempt to talk to any pack member unless addressed first.”

“Maya will be your personal maid, if you need anything, tell her or find Drake.”

I gripped the silk of my new pajamas under the table. He was systematic, cruel, and absolute. “And if I break a rule?”

A faint, cold smile touched his lips. “I will make you regret the day you decided to protect that friend of yours, Amber. You signed the contract, I enforce the consequences.” He picked up his glass of wine, effectively ending the conversation.

The rest of the dinner was a silent, agonizing affair. I mechanically ate a few bites of the delicious, expensive food, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. Kilian ate with a quiet, focused intensity, never once looking at me again. He didn't offer any conversation or attempt to bridge the vast, icy gap between us.

He finished his plate, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, and stood up abruptly. “I have work to do.”

“Wait,” I said, before I could stop myself. “What about the singing? Do you forbid that too?”

He stopped, turning back to look at me, his eyes momentarily flicking with that unwanted interest. “The singing stays. It is… unique. But you will sing only when you're alone in your room.” He took one last, long look at me, and that strange, possessive heat was back in his gaze.

“Good night, Amber. Remember the rules.”

He walked out, leaving me alone in the vast dining hall. I pushed back my chair, my appetite gone. I walked back to my cold, luxurious room, realizing my life was no longer my own. It feels like I'm being locked up in a cage. It feels suffocating.

When I got to my room, heaviness and exhaustion weighed me down. I collapsed onto the bed, the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. With trembling fingers, I picked up my phone and dialed Dr. Chen’s number. Richard’s recovery had been haunting my thoughts all day, and I knew it would take days before he regained consciousness, but I needed answers. Dr. Chen didn’t pick up.

A sigh escaped me as I typed out a message instead, asking if the surgery had gone well, if Richard’s body had accepted the transplant, if there was even the slightest sign of hope. I ended the message with a plea for him to call me back.

Setting the phone aside, I stared at the ceiling for a moment, the events of the day flipping through my mind. Then, slowly, fatigue pulled me under, and I drifted into a restless sleep.