Zara’s POV
I should have been terrified.
Maybe part of me was.
But fear had become exhausting.
Too many secrets.
Too many people are telling me what I was instead of asking who I wanted to be.
So when the prisoner called me a vessel—
I got angry.
Not scared.
Just angry.
“I am not a container for anyone’s prophecy,” I said coldly.
The figure remained kneeling, restrained by iron bands and silver chains, yet somehow still composed.
“You misunderstand the term.”
“Then explain it better.”
Greyson shifted slightly beside me.
Protective.
Ready.
Always ready.
The prisoner’s hidden face tilted toward him.
“The Alpha’s aggression is predictable.”
“He can hear you,” I said flatly.
“I know.”
Greyson’s aura rolled outward.
The room trembled.
“Careful,” Davon muttered from behin
