Chapter 11: Breakfast With The Devil

###Sincerely

I woke before I opened my eyes.

Fear did that to a person. It settled heavy in your chest long before your mind caught up.

For several long seconds I lay perfectly still beneath the too-soft blankets, straining to hear.

No shouting.

No footsteps storming toward my door.

No Miranda’s venomous voice.

No slipper cracking across my skin.

Just… silence.

Then the memories crashed back like ice water.

The basement.

The blood.

Lillian’s father dangling like meat.

Alpha Ryker’s claws sinking into a man’s chest without hesitation.

His calm, terrifying voice: “Why are you out of bed?”

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.

I shot upright, gasping.

The luxurious room looked exactly the same—towering windows, glowing embers in the fireplace, elegant furniture that probably cost a fortune. But now it felt like a predator’s lair.

And I was the prey sleeping in its bed.

I hugged my knees to my chest, staring at the closed door like it might burst open any second.

Why wasn’t I dead?

I’d seen too much. Everyone knew Alpha Ryker Vale didn’t leave loose ends. Had he changed his mind? Was he waiting until I was strong enough to answer questions? Or was this all just… entertainment before the final blow?

A soft knock shattered the silence.

My whole body jerked.

The door opened. The older maid entered with a silver tray and a steaming cup of tea. The moment she saw me awake, her face lit up with genuine warmth.

“Oh, wonderful! You’re finally awake.”

I couldn’t speak.

She set the tray down and hurried over, helping me sit up and fluffing the pillows behind me like I was someone precious.

“How are you feeling this morning, dear?”

“…Still alive,” I muttered.

She blinked, then chuckled softly. “I suppose that’s a good start.”

She tucked a loose curl behind my ear with motherly gentleness. “The physician will be pleased. You gave us quite a scare when you fainted and wouldn't wake up all night.”

Heat flooded my face. “I fainted…”

“You frightened everyone.”

Everyone. The word felt impossible. Especially him.

Before I could spiral further, she smiled. “His Alpha has been waiting for you.”

The room went ice-cold.

“…Waiting?”

“Yes.” She straightened the blanket with practiced care. “Breakfast is ready. Alpha Ryker wishes to have breakfast with you.”

Breakfast. With him.

My stomach knotted so tightly I thought I might be sick.

The maid tilted her head, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Wrong? Everything was wrong.

The most dangerous Alpha on the continent didn’t invite random, curvy, rejected nobodies to breakfast. He interrogated them. He weighed their usefulness. He decided whether they got to see tomorrow.

My palms turned clammy. “Am I… in trouble?”

She looked genuinely puzzled. “Trouble?”

“I wandered into the basement,” I whispered. “I saw—”

Understanding dawned on her face. She placed a gentle hand on my arm. “You needn’t worry about that, dear. The Alpha is simply waiting.”

Simply.

As if anything about facing Alpha Ryker Vale could ever be simple.

She held up a fresh cream-colored dress—soft, elegant, far too nice for someone like me.

“Let’s get you ready.”

I swallowed hard, heart racing as she helped me change.

In a few minutes I would be sitting across from the man who ripped out hearts like it was nothing.

And all I could think was:

Please don’t let this be my last meal.

•••

The closer we got to the dining hall, the colder my feet became.

Each step felt heavier, like the marble floor itself was trying to drag me down. I kept smoothing invisible wrinkles from the cream-colored dress, my damp palms refusing to stay still.

Just breathe.

Maybe he won’t kill you before breakfast.

Somehow, that thought wasn’t comforting. At all.

The older maid pushed open the double doors.

The dining hall was larger than our entire house back in Mooncrest. Sunlight poured through tall arched windows, dancing across a table long enough to seat twenty. Only one seat was occupied.

Alpha Ryker.

He sat at the head like he owned the world, which, around here, he basically did, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The fabric stretched across his broad shoulders and powerful arms, hinting at the lethal strength beneath. He cut into his lasagna with precise, unhurried movements, every motion controlled.

The smell hit me like a punch. Rich cheese, fresh herbs, warm bread. My traitorous stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead.

Wonderful. Announcing my arrival with my stomach. Real smooth.

The maid cleared her throat. “Alpha.”

Ryker looked up.

A forkful of lasagna paused halfway to his mouth. For one charged second, his golden-flecked eyes locked onto me—dark, intense, and unreadable. Heat crawled up my neck. I froze, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of the dress clinging to my curves.

Then, just as quickly, he slid the bite between his lips and continued eating like nothing had happened.

The maid pulled out the chair directly opposite him. “This way, Miss.”

I glanced between the seat and the Alpha. “…Here?”

She gave me a small, knowing smile. “Yes.”

Swallowing my nerves and a healthy dose of sarcasm I lowered myself into the chair that probably cost more than my life.

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft clink of silverware and the frantic thud of my heartbeat. A maid set a steaming plate in front of me: lasagna, fresh bread, roasted vegetables. More food than I’d seen in weeks.

I stared at it, hands folded tightly in my lap.

“Eat.”

His deep voice rolled over me like warm smoke.

I looked up. He wasn’t even glancing my way.

“I…”

“I didn’t poison it,” he said flatly, spearing another bite.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were thinking it.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Maybe a little,” I muttered.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I picked up my fork and took a bite. The flavors exploded—creamy, rich, perfectly seasoned. My eyes fluttered closed for a second before I caught myself. Don’t moan. Do not moan at the table.

I forced myself to eat slowly, years of snatched meals making me savor every bite like it might be my last.

The quiet settled again, thick and heavy. I kept stealing glances at him—those strong forearms, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt pulled taut when he reached for his water. He was terrifying. He was beautiful. And I hated how aware of him I was.

Just as I started to relax, his voice cut through the silence.

“You’re from Mooncrest.”

My fork froze mid-air.

“…Yes.”

“Roland’s rejected mate.”

The words landed like a slap. My throat tightened painfully. Of course he knew. The whole damn werewolf world probably knew by now.

I managed a single nod, unable to speak. Then a hiccup escaped me. Another followed right after.

Oh Goddess, not now.

I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified.

Without a word, Ryker reached for the pitcher, poured a glass of water, and slid it across the table with surprising gentleness. “Easy.”

I stared at the glass, then at him. “…Thank you.”

I took a careful sip. The hiccups faded, but the embarrassment burned hotter.

Why is he being kind? This is the man mothers use to scare their pups. He should be cold. Cruel. Not… this.

The silence returned, heavier now. He finished his meal, folded his napkin with military precision, and rose. My pulse spiked. Here it comes. Questions about the basement. Threats. Something.

Instead, he buttoned his cuff and said casually, “We leave for Mooncrest at noon.”

My fork slipped from my fingers, clattering loudly against the plate.

Mooncrest?

Does he mean back to Miranda. Back to my father. Back to Bianca and the pack that watched me get rejected like I was nothing. Back to the prison I’d prayed to escape.

My appetite died instantly.

By the time I looked up again, heart hammering with fresh panic and something dangerously close to anger, he was already gone.

Leaving me alone with the devil’s breakfast and the terrifying realization that he wasn’t done with me yet.