Maria.

I hadn’t even fully recovered from the sudden loss of warmth where Vincent’s hand had been intertwined with mine when Aidan’s voice cut through the air, sharp and merciless, ordering him to uproot the thorns.

For a moment, my mind refused to process the words.

Thorns.

My gaze snapped to where he was pointing, and my breath caught painfully in my throat.

They were thick. Jagged. Wild shrubs with long, cruel spikes that glinted faintly in the light. Even from where I stood, I could tell how unforgiving they were. I had seen servants bleed from far smaller ones. No one—no one—used bare hands to uproot them.

Yet Vincent didn’t argue.

He only bowed his head and obeyed.

The realization slammed into me like a blow.

He’s really going to do it.

My heart lurched violently as he crouched and wrapped his fingers around the first cluster. The moment he pulled, his body flinched. I heard the sharp hiss of pain he tried—and failed—to suppress.

I froze.

Blood. I could already smell it, faint but unmistakable, carried by the breeze. My chest tightened painfully as I watched crimson well up against his skin, drip down his fingers, stain the earth beneath him.

This was wrong.

So wrong.

My nails dug into my palms as guilt crept up my spine, heavy and suffocating. Vincent was here because of me. Standing there, bleeding, enduring punishment that had nothing to do with him, because of me.

He was my friend.

And I was doing nothing.

My heart ached as he reached for another thorn bush, his hands already shaking, slick with blood. He winced again, teeth clenched, shoulders trembling as more cuts opened across his skin.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

The battle in my mind raged fiercely, fear against conscience, survival against decency. I knew better than to speak. I knew what Alpha Aidan was capable of. I had felt his temper, seen his cruelty firsthand.

But watching Vincent suffer like this... something in me broke.

"Alpha Aidan..." My voice came out softer than I intended, trembling despite my effort to sound composed.

Time seemed to stretch painfully as I forced myself to continue, lifting my gaze to him with eyes that burned and begged at the same time. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Could you please allow Vincent to use something else?" I said, my words tumbling out carefully, desperately. "The thorns are... they’re piercing his hands. He’s going to be seriously hurt."

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then Aidan turned to me.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

"Vincent?" he repeated, his voice deceptively calm. "Is that what his name is?"

My throat tightened instantly.

His eyes locked onto mine, cold and sharp, stripping me bare. There was something dark swirling in them now, something possessive, something angry.

"You seem pretty close to him," he continued, each word laced with accusation. "Close enough to let him hold your hands so tightly."

The words hit me like slaps.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat constricted painfully, air refusing to pass through properly. I didn’t understand this reaction. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Vincent was my friend.

Why did that seem like a crime?

What on earth was wrong with him?

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak again despite the fear crawling up my spine.

"Please," I said, my voice cracking despite my effort. "Just spare him this once."

I took a step forward without thinking, my hands clenched tightly in front of me.

"He doesn’t deserve this."

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made things worse.

Aidan’s expression darkened visibly, his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing with something dangerously close to fury. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, suffocating.

"You are in no position to negotiate with me," he said sharply.

Before I could react, he stepped closer, too close.

His presence loomed over me, overwhelming. For a terrifying second, I thought he was going to grab my neck. His hand lifted slightly, hovering near my throat, and I instinctively flinched back, my heart slamming violently against my ribs.

But he stopped himself.

I could almost see the restraint, his fingers curling slowly into a fist instead. We were outside. In the open. Eyes could be watching. And Alpha Aidan cared deeply about appearances.

The thought didn’t comfort me at all.

His gaze burned into mine, silent, punishing, making my skin prickle uncomfortably.

Then his voice thundered across the garden.

"To my room, Maria."

The command was final.

Absolute.

There was no room for refusal, no space for argument. It wasn’t a request, it was a sentence.

My heart sank heavily into my chest as the weight of his words settled over me. I glanced once more toward Vincent, who was still crouched by the thorns, bloodied hands trembling as he worked.

Our eyes met briefly.

Regret stabbed through me so sharply it almost stole my breath.

"To my room now!" he yelled again, his voice cracking like thunder across the garden.

I froze.

Not just because of the volume of his voice, but because of the meaning behind it.

His room.

It hadn’t been my imagination the first time. I hadn’t misheard him. He truly meant it.

A cold wave of dread washed over me, seeping into my bones. My thoughts spiraled instantly, dark and uncontrollable. Vincent had already been punished, forced to tear thorns from the earth with his bare hands, blood soaking into the soil. If that was what Aidan did to him, then what was left for me?

Was I next?

My chest tightened painfully as fear clawed its way up my throat. Vincent’s punishment had been external, visible. Mine... mine might not be.

The thought alone made my stomach churn.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, to stand my ground, at least for a moment.

"Alpha Aidan," I said slowly, carefully, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. "I have chores to carry out. Important ones. I don’t think I can follow you right now."

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were weak.

Excuses.

And he hated excuses.

His head snapped toward me instantly, his gaze sharp enough to cut. In two strides, he was in front of me, too close. His presence swallowed mine, towering, suffocating, leaving no room for escape.

"How dare you defy my orders?" he said coldly.

My breath hitched as he leaned in, his voice dropping to something far more dangerous than a shout. "Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?"

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

"You want to stay behind," he continued, his eyes boring into mine, "so you can tend to his wounds. Comfort him. Touch him."

Each word landed like a strike.

"That’s not..." I started, panic flooding my veins."Alpha Aidan..." I tried again, my voice breaking this time.

But he didn’t let me finish.

"Enough!" he roared, cutting me off completely. "Enough excuses. Enough lies."

His temper flared openly now, no longer restrained by the watching eyes around us. The garden felt suddenly too small, the air too thick to breathe.

"I will not tolerate your defiance," he thundered. "Not from you."

My knees felt weak, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. I could barely tell whether it was fear or anger shaking me now, perhaps both.

"Now," he said, his voice low and absolute, "to my bedroom."

The finality in his tone crushed whatever resistance I had left.

This wasn’t a request.

It was an order I couldn’t escape.

I glanced instinctively toward Vincent one last time. He was still crouched where he had been ordered to work, his hands bloodied, shoulders tense. He didn’t look up, perhaps he couldn’t bear to. Or perhaps he already knew there was nothing he could do.

Guilt tore through me all over again.

This is my fault.

I had spoken up. I had pleaded. I had tried to protect him.

And now I was being dragged into something far worse.

My feet felt heavy as stone as I turned back to Aidan. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that it drowned out everything else. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear.

But I did none of those things.

Because I knew better.

Defying him again would only make things worse.

So I lowered my gaze, my hands curling tightly into fists at my sides, and took the first step toward him, toward his room, toward whatever punishment awaited me next.

And with every step, fear whispered one terrible truth in my ear:

This time... there would be no thorns to shield me.