Chapter 10: The Gift and the Game
The Council chamber stank of incense and lies.
Evelyn stood before them, unbound but surrounded. Five elders. Five wolves in human skin, seated like judges, eyes like hammers.
She didn't lower her gaze.
Didn't blink.
The man at the center—Elder Rowan—spoke first.
"You were not born to nobility."
"No."
"You were not registered to any existing pack."
"No."
"Then how did you become the Duke's… companion?"
Her lips twitched. "I wore a collar."
Some of them shifted.
One scoffed.
"She jokes," one muttered.
"She breathes," Evelyn corrected, "and still that seems to offend you."
Bryant leaned against a marble column behind her, silent the entire time—but watching.
Always watching.
"She was purchased," he said finally. "Legally."
"And claimed?" Rowan asked.
"I don't answer to that word."
Evelyn turned, surprised. So was the Council.
But Bryant's eyes were cool steel.
"She stays," he said. "That's all you need to know."
Rowan narrowed his eyes.
"You're protecting something."
Bryant didn't move. "So are you."
A tense silence.
Then Rowan stood.
"Very well. Let us hope your loyalty doesn't burn you in the end."
—
Later that night, Evelyn found a box waiting in her room.
Black velvet.
No note.
She opened it.
Inside was a golden collar.
Ornate. Covered in thorns. Sharp edges hidden beneath delicate patterns.
A message.
A threat.
Her fingers hovered over it—but didn't touch.
Then the door opened.
Bryant stepped in, holding a second box.
But he stopped when he saw hers.
His face didn't change.
But his silence did.
"Who brought that?" he asked.
"No one saw."
"Damon," he muttered. "It's a statement."
"He wants me?"
"No," Bryant said. "He wants to see if I'll fight for you."
Her breath caught.
Then softened.
"You shouldn't."
"I know."
But he didn't sound sure.
Not this time.
He stepped closer.
Her box still lay open.
But she stepped past it—toward him.
Slowly.
Testing something in the space between them.
"I didn't ask to be chosen," she said quietly.
"I didn't ask to want you," he replied.
And then, for the first time, he touched her without force.
His hand lifted. Brushed her cheek. Traced the line of her jaw.
Soft.
Intentional.
"You make me reckless," Bryant whispered.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because maybe then," she whispered back, "you'll understand what it means to burn."
---
[End of Chapter 10]