The world seemed to narrow into a single heartbeat — a single breath — as Alphonsus Thorne stepped through the shattered doorway like a god of war wearing a man's skin.
Eleanor's lungs locked.
Adam moved instantly, shifting his stance, one hand extended behind him to keep her shielded. His muscles were tense, coiled, the curse thrashing under his skin like a living storm.
Alphonsus scanned the room with casual indifference, his boots crunching over broken glass.
"You've grown complacent, Adam Draven," he said mildly. "Your defenses are insulting."
Adam bared his teeth.
"You attacked my home."
The words were pure ice.
Alphonsus' cold gaze drifted back to Eleanor.
"No, Alpha," he corrected softly.
"I came for what belongs to me."
Eleanor flinched.
Adam stepped forward, voice dropping into a lethal register.
"She's not yours."
Alphonsus' smile sharpened.
"And yet she carries my blood, my training, and my mark."
His eyes flickered to Eleanor's wrist — the faint scar she'd hoped no one would notice.
"I see you've let him touch you. How disappointing."
Eleanor's breath caught sharply.
"Father—"
"Silence."
The word cracked like a whip.
Adam growled, low and murderous.
Alphonsus clicked his tongue.
"She disobeys so easily, Adam. You must be very proud."
Adam's voice trembled with the effort of holding back the curse.
"Don't speak to her like that."
That earned a soft, amused laugh.
"My, my. You've changed. All this because of a girl who was sent here to slit your throat in your sleep."
Eleanor's stomach twisted.
Adam didn't look shocked — but he did look furious.
"She's not your weapon anymore," Adam said, stepping fully between them now. "And she's not afraid of you."
Eleanor's heart hammered violently.
That was not true.
Every bone in her body remembered the man standing before them.
Alphonsus' eyes gleamed with amusement at the lie.
"Then let's test that."
He took one step forward.
Eleanor's knees nearly buckled — not because of fear, but because the air around Alphonsus grew heavy. Crushing. Suffocating. He was exerting dominance, ancient and brutal.
Adam snarled and shoved back with his own alpha aura, slamming his power into the room like a tidal wave. Torches flickered. Shadows shivered.
The two forces collided with a deep boom that shook dust from the rafters.
Eleanor gasped as the pressure lifted.
Alphonsus chuckled.
"Impressive. Perhaps I underestimated you."
Adam didn't blink.
"Leave."
"Oh, I will." Alphonsus flashed a cold smile. "But not without my daughter."
"She's not going," Adam growled.
"She doesn't have a choice."
He snapped his fingers.
A blur of motion sliced through the smoke.
Eleanor's heart dropped.
Alaric.
Her brother emerged from the shadows, dagger in hand, expression unreadable.
Adam tensed, shifting his weight, preparing for two opponents at once.
Alaric's eyes flicked to Eleanor — once.
No emotion.
A warning she could barely read.
"Return home, sister," Alaric said. "You've played long enough."
"Stop," she whispered, stepping slightly out from behind Adam.
Adam instantly caught her wrist, pulling her back.
"Don't."
Alphonsus smirked.
"She listens to him now. How adorable."
Adam stepped forward, voice resonant with primal fury.
"You're not taking her."
Alphonsus' expression hardened, amusement fading.
"And you think you can stop me?"
Adam didn't answer with words.
He lunged.
With speed that blurred.
His fist collided with Alphonsus' jaw — a brutal crack echoing through the hall — but Alphonsus barely budged, only tilting his head slightly as if examining the impact.
Then Alphonsus moved.
The punch he threw launched Adam across the room, smashing him into a stone pillar. Dust rained down as he staggered, shaking it off.
Eleanor screamed, trying to run to him.
Alaric blocked her path, blade glinting.
"You're coming home."
"No," she hissed.
Adam roared, surging back into the fight.
Zakriel's shadow bled through his skin, darkening his eyes, his aura, his power.
Alphonsus' gaze sharpened.
"Ah. There it is. The curse."
He dodged Adam's next strike with inhuman grace.
"You truly believe you can protect her while carrying that inside you?"
Adam didn't slow.
His movements were wild, vicious, faster than before — the curse augmenting his reflexes.
Alphonsus caught Adam's arm mid-strike and twisted sharply.
Adam dropped to one knee, gasping as his bones cracked under the pressure.
Eleanor cried out.
"STOP! STOP, FATHER!"
Alphonsus looked at her.
And twisted harder.
Adam roared in agony.
Eleanor's vision shattered.
Pain tore through her chest — not physical pain, but something deeper, primal, tied to the bond.
She felt Adam breaking.
"No," she whispered, shaking violently.
"Let him go. LET HIM GO!"
Alphonsus released Adam only when he was satisfied with the damage.
Adam collapsed to one knee, breathing harshly.
"That is what happens," Alphonsus said softly, "when you disobey me."
Eleanor trembled.
Adam tried to rise, body screaming, curse writhing.
Alphonsus's next words were quiet, deadly:
"Eleanor.
Come.
Now."
This was the moment her whole life had been designed for — obedience, surrender, silence.
But Adam was on the ground behind her.
Broken because of her.
The bond thrummed painfully in her chest.
And Eleanor finally understood something:
If she left with her father, Adam would die.
If she stayed, she would lose her family forever.
Her heart thrashed violently.
She lifted her chin.
And for the first time in her life, she said the one word she had never dared speak to Alphonsus Thorne:
"…No."
Silence slammed into the room.
Alaric's eyes widened.
Adam froze.
Alphonsus' expression turned to cold, murderous stillness.
"What," he murmured, "did you just say to me?"
Eleanor stepped toward Adam, placing herself between him and her father.
"I said no."
Her voice shook but didn't break.
"I'm not going with you."
Adam looked up at her with raw, stunned intensity.
Alphonsus exhaled once — slow, deadly.
"Very well."
He nodded to Alaric.
"Take her."
Eleanor paled.
Alaric reached for her—
—but Adam exploded upward with a snarl so feral it shook the walls.
A shadow-tipped aura burst from his body, swallowing the room in darkness.
Zakriel surged forward.
Adam's voice was layered with the curse as he roared:
"Touch her and I'll rip your throat out!"
Alphonsus' eyes gleamed with interest.
"So," he murmured, "the real battle begins."
---