KATRINA'S POV
"I told you to get your fucking hands off her, Wilson." The sound of William's voice ripped through the air like a blade again.
The entire room went still. His voice wasn't just anger — it was venom, sharp and cold, cutting through the laughter and murmurs that had filled the dining hall only moments ago. His burning gaze stayed locked on Wilson's hand still gripping mine, his fists already curling at his sides, knuckles turning white.
I felt my stomach drop. My heart began to pound so violently it hurt. William's voice wasn't something you ignored. You didn't even breathe wrong when he sounded like that.
I yanked my hand away instantly, stumbling a step backward. My pulse thudded in my ears as I stared at the man William called Wilson — the same man who had just grabbed me earlier and whispered that single haunting word… Mate.
The air between them was thick, heavy enough to choke on.
Wilson stood tall, his lips curving into a small, mocking smile, completely unbothered by William's rage. His eyes gleamed — a dangerous mix of amusement. He looked at William like someone who had already seen him bleed before.
Then he laughed — a soft, cold sound that seemed to echo against the marble walls as he walked up to William and placed his hand on his shoulder. "You know, that's not exactly the right way to welcome your elder brother."
My heart stopped.
Brother?
I blinked, confused, staring between the two men. Brother? That couldn't be right. I grew up with William. I knew the Adams family — or at least I thought I did. But in all my years around him, I had never once heard of a brother, let alone a twin.
William's jaw tightened, his eyes burning like fire as he barked, "Get your filthy hands off me."
The tension between them felt almost inhuman. Like two predators circling, ready to rip each other apart.
Wilson raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Relax, brother. I didn't know you'd gotten so aggressive. Like a dog, really." His voice was smooth, taunting, as if he enjoyed pressing on old wounds.
Before I could even blink, William's fist connected with Wilson's face. The sound was sharp — knuckles against bone. Wilson staggered back, catching himself with a quiet grunt, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Stay away from Katrina," William snarled, his voice low, dark, trembling with fury.
Wilson's tongue darted out, wiping the blood from his lip. He smiled — not the kind of smile that meant forgiveness, but one that said he'd found something he wanted to destroy.
"Sorry to offend you, brother," Wilson murmured softly, his tone laced with dangerous sweetness. "I really would love to stay away. But…" He took a step closer, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. "I can't. She's my mate...and I want her."
My breath caught. My chest tightened so hard it hurt. 'Mate' Again. That word that felt like a curse and a promise all at once.
William's expression shifted — it was pure fury now, the kind that could melt steel. "Everyone. Get the hell out," he barked. "Whoever's still here in five minutes, your fate's mine to decide."
The command sent the room into chaos. Chairs scraped, glasses shattered, footsteps echoed. People rushed toward the exits, not daring to look back. The tension was suffocating — a storm about to break.
I turned to follow the crowd, wanting nothing more than to disappear, to get away from both of them, but William's voice cut through my steps like a whip.
"Who asked you to leave?."
The word froze me in place.
I swallowed hard, my hand trembling as I dropped it to my side. Slowly, I turned back. His eyes didn't leave me — sharp, dark, unreadable.
Within minutes, the room emptied completely. The echoes of footsteps faded until there was only silence and the heavy sound of my own heartbeat.
William and Wilson stood facing each other in the center of the grand dining hall — two men who looked almost identical but radiated completely different energy. William's presence was a storm — controlled, dangerous, burning. Wilson's was colder, unsettling, a kind of darkness that smiled when you looked away.
I stood near the wall, trying to make myself invisible. My eyes darted to the tables, to the untouched plates of food, to anything but them. My stomach twisted painfully at the sight of the untouched meal before me. I hadn't eaten since yesterday, but right now, hunger was the least of my worries.
A sound behind me made my body stiffen.
Before I could turn, I felt a hand grip my neck — firm, possessive. My breath hitched, my entire body tensing as hot air fanned against my skin. Wilson's voice slid across my ear, low and deep, sending chills straight through me.
"You smell even better up close," he whispered. "Just like I imagined."
My hands shook. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. My heart raced wildly — fear, panic, confusion — all tangled into one unbearable ache
Wilson's tongue trailed along my neck, slow, deliberate, and every nerve in my body screamed in protest. I couldn't move. I wanted to, but I couldn't. My hands pushed against him weakly, the air thick with his scent — dark, intoxicating.
Then suddenly, he was gone.
William had torn him away.
The force of it made me stumble, but before I could fall, William caught me. I turned instantly, clutching his arm without thinking. His grip was solid, grounding, his body radiating that familiar, dangerous warmth.
Wilson snarled, recovering fast, his eyes glinting with fury. "She's mine, William!"
"She's not yours," William shot back, stepping forward, shielding me with his body. "You don't touch what's mine."
Wilson's gaze darkened, voice dropping low. "You can't keep her from me forever. You know the bond. You can't break it, brother."
William's jaw tightened. "Watch me."
For a second, everything stood still.
The tension between them was unbearable. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. My knees threatened to give out, and I clutched William's sleeve tighter, my breath shallow, my thoughts spiraling.
Why me?
Why now?
Who even is Wilson?
My entire body trembled. I could still feel the ghost of Wilson's breath on my neck, the burn of his touch, the fear clawing at my chest.
Wilson took a slow step forward. His eyes flicked to mine as he grip on to my arm— and for a moment, I saw something strange there. Not lust. Not even desire. Sadness. Real, raw sadness that made my throat tighten unexpectedly.
"Let her decide," he said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than before. "You can't keep her chained like an animal. Let Katrina choose."
William turned his head slightly, his eyes locking on me. That gaze — cold, possessive, demanding. "Choose?" He let out a sharp breath, his tone dropping to a deadly whisper. "Then choose, Katrina. Between him and me."
My heart nearly stopped.
I stared between them, my lips parting but no words coming out. I didn't know Wilson. I didn't even know what he was. But William — as cruel, as terrifying as he could be — was the only one I understood. The only one whose temper I could predict.
Defying him meant punishment. Pain.
My hands trembled as I pulled away from Wilson's grasp and stepped closer to William. The decision tore something inside me, but I couldn't stop. My body moved on instinct — on fear.
I wrapped my arms around William, pressing myself against him, my face hidden in his chest. I could feel the rise and fall of his breath — rough, uneven — but his hands came up, steady and protective around me.
Wilson let out a low, broken laugh. "So that's it?" he murmured. "You're choosing your cage."
William's voice was pure dominance when he growled, "I hope you got your answer, brother."
His arm tightened around me as he dragged me away from the room, his stride quick, his grip unrelenting. My pulse raced as I glanced back over my shoulder — Wilson still stood there, motionless, his eyes fixed on me.
That look — that sad, hollow look — would haunt me long after we left that hall.