Elara woke to silence.
Not the soft, comforting kind—but the taut, cold quiet of a fortress that had already decided her fate before she opened her eyes.
She sat up slowly in the guest bed, muscles sore, head pounding from what remained of the mandrake's touch.
Then she felt it.
A weight around her neck.
Her fingers shot upward.
Cold.
Heavy.
Metal.
She stumbled to the mirror.
There, locked snug against her throat, was a silver collar—thick but deceptively elegant, inscribed with old Lycan runes and lined with black leather.
It wasn't decorative.
It was symbolic.
A restraint.
A declaration.
A mark of ownership.
Her breath hitched.
She tried to pry it off.
No latch.
No buckle.
No seam.
Just cold steel and humiliation.
The door burst open.
Kael stood there.
And for the first time since they met—
He looked furious.
"What the hell is this?" Elara growled, voice trembling.
Kael didn't answer.
He crossed the room in three long strides.
Grabbed her face with one hand.
Tilted her chin up.
His thumb brushed the collar's edge.
It burned her.
She flinched.
His growl deepened.
"Who put this on you?" he demanded.
"You tell me," she spat. "You rule this palace, don't you?"
"I didn't order this."
"Then someone thinks they can speak in your name."
Kael stepped back, visibly shaking.
"You weren't supposed to be touched again."
"Then why am I collared like an animal?"
"It's not for punishment," he said quietly. "It's a symbol."
"Of what? Subjugation?"
He hesitated.
That was all the answer she needed.
Elara's fists clenched.
"You let them make a pet out of me."
Kael grabbed her wrist.
"I didn't let—"
"You let me walk into the feast poisoned."
"You survived."
"You let me dance with a snake."
"You danced better than her."
"You let them collar me in my sleep."
His voice dropped into a whisper. "I didn't know."
"But now you do," she snapped. "And you haven't ripped it off."
Kael's eyes flared gold.
He reached for the collar.
And tore it from her throat.
It didn't unfasten.
It shattered.
The edges cut into his palm as it broke.
Blood dripped to the floor.
Still, he didn't flinch.
He dropped the fragments at her feet.
"You are not property."
"No," she agreed, stepping closer. "But you treat me like one."
Kael opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then turned away.
"I did it to protect you."
She laughed bitterly. "That's your favorite lie."
He turned sharply.
"Elara—"
"No," she said, stepping between him and the door. "You don't get to silence me with guilt and protectiveness. Not now."
Kael exhaled. "What do you want me to say?"
"Say that I matter more than the court. More than the elders. More than your precious rules."
"You already do."
"Then why don't you act like it?"
He looked at her.
Really looked.
Then said, slowly, "Because if I act like you're mine, I'll destroy everything else."
"Good," she whispered. "Then destroy it."
Kael stepped forward.
"Be careful," he said. "I was born to burn things down."
Elara didn't blink.
"Then start with me."
Silence.
Tension.
Desire.
Hurt.
All pressed into the narrow space between them.
Kael leaned in, lips brushing her temple.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You will," she said, "if you keep trying to own me."
He nodded.
Then whispered, "What if I let you own me instead?"
Her breath caught.
But before she could respond, he kissed her forehead.
And left.
Later, she found the shattered collar still lying on the floor.
One of the fragments had her blood on it.
The other—
Kael's.
She took the piece with his blood.
And tucked it into her pocket.
Just in case.