Chapter 9: Heart On The Floor

###Sincerely

Silence swallowed the room again.

I stared at the half-eaten feast, then at the closed bedroom door.

I had to leave.

Before Alpha Ryker returned to ask questions I wouldn't be able to answer.

Before he realized saving me had been a mistake.

I shoved one last piece of bread into my mouth, the crust soft against my tongue. Strength. I needed strength. Wiping my greasy fingers on the soft fabric of the dress, I rose on unsteady legs. The silk whispered against my skin, a mocking reminder of how out of place I was here but this wasn't the time for that.

First, get out. Then figure out the rest.

The hallway stretched before me like a gilded trap of endless corridors lined with priceless art and vases that probably cost more than my entire miserable life. My soft slippers barely made a sound as I crept downstairs, heart hammering so loudly I was sure the whole fortress could hear it.

One hand trailed the ornate banister for balance, and the other pressed to my chest as if that could quiet my pulse.

How the hell do I find the exit in this maze?

I rounded another corner and took a dimly lit staircase leading down. The air grew cooler, heavier. The deeper I went, the darker it became. Marble gave way to rougher stone underfoot, and the faint glow of sconces thinned until I was navigating by memory and sun rays slanting through narrow slits in the walls.

My breath came in shallow bursts. This wasn’t the grand foyer I’d hoped for, this was undoubtedly the underbelly of the fortress, servants’ passages or storage halls meant to stay hidden. A distant drip of water echoed somewhere ahead and the scent of damp earth and old wood filled my nose.

I pressed on, one palm sliding along the cold wall to guide me. A metallic scrape echoed ahead—something heavy dragging across a door. A low, muffled groan pulled me forward like a hook in my chest. I should have turned back, but how can I when freedom was close?

I crept toward the end of the passage where a heavy iron door stood ajar. My fingers trembled as I eased it open just enough to peer inside.

I was in the basement.

A man hung by his wrists, shirtless, body covered in bruises and blood. He dangled like a broken doll, barely conscious, his face swollen and unrecognizable. Another figure stood before him—broad-shouldered, radiating raw power. His back was to me, sleeves rolled up, voice low and deadly as he questioned the prisoner.

“Answer me now!” He barked.

I froze, horror rooting me in place. This was my chance to run, to sprint back up the stairs and vanish, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I slipped behind a stack of wooden crates just inside the doorway, heart slamming against my ribs, and hid.

The man's face came into view. He was Lillian’s father, one of Bianca’s friend’s powerful, connected fathers. A man I’d seen on television for years. A wolf who moved in the same dangerous circles as the Alphas.

And standing in front of him was him.

Alpha Ryker Vale.

Tall, broad, radiating lethal calm. A black whip coiled in one hand. He cracked his neck once, then drove a brutal fist into the man’s stomach. Blood sprayed and my breath seized.

“You won’t get away with this, you bastard!” the hanging man gasped. “Karma is real!”

Ryker’s low, dark laugh sent ice down my spine. “You still believe in karma? Cute.”

With terrifying speed, he extended his claws. In one vicious motion, he drove them straight into the man’s chest and ripped out his heart.

The wet, horrifying sound made my stomach lurch.

“Rest in hell,” Ryker said coldly, tossing the heart aside like garbage. “Take it to the black market.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Trembling, I stayed rooted in place until—

“I said come out now.” His voice cut through the air like a blade. “You don’t want me to come fetch you myself.”

Oh Goddess was this how I was going to get killed?

Trembling, I stepped out from behind the crates, my legs barely holding me. Blood pooled on the floor near my slippers. The metallic scent choked the air.

Ryker slowly turned. His gaze, those sharp, golden-flecked eyes softened the instant they landed on me. The hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something unexpectedly gentle.

“Ah,” Ryker said, tossing a bloodied cloth onto a tray. “It was you.”

Every guard in the room lowered their heads instantly. No one dared speak.

His cold gray eyes settled on me—calm, assessing, unreadable. No rage. Just quiet, terrifying scrutiny.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was too calm. It scared me more than shouting ever could.

“I-I wasn’t spying,” I blurted, voice shaking. “I got lost. I was trying to find the exit. I swear I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell anyone. I promise—”

Ryker remained perfectly still.

For the first time, something flickered across his face.

“Look at me.”

My body refused.

The words tumbled out faster and faster.

“I’m sorry for leaving my room.”

“I’m sorry for getting hit by your car.”

The last whisper slipped free before I could stop it. “I’m sorry for wasting your food.”

Miranda had made me repeated them so much that they've become my go to apology lines.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Even the man beside the corpse looked uncomfortable.

“I said… look at me.” He repeated calmly.

Slowly, painfully, I lifted my head.

Instead of fury, I found him watching me with an intensity that made my skin burn. His gaze traced my damp curls, the soft cream dress clinging to my curves, my trembling hands.

“You think I’m going to kill you?”

It wasn’t exactly a question.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I couldn’t deny it.

Because yes. Of course I did.

I had just watched him tear a man’s heart out.

A fresh wave of dizziness crashed over me. The room spun violently. Black spots danced across my vision.

“Alpha!” someone shouted.

My knees buckled.

I never hit the floor.

Strong, unyielding arms caught me, pulling me against a hard, warm chest that smelled like cedar, rain, and something darkly addictive.

Everything faded to black.