Chapter 9 Nine

Lilith

The days blurred together inside the manor. The silence was thick and breathing. Sometimes I swore I could hear the walls whisper, the echo of things that happened long before I came here.

I’d stopped counting how many days had passed since they took me. There was no sunlight in this place, only cold silver light that bled through the narrow windows.

I slept when exhaustion took me, and woke when fear did. And then there was him. Ryan Radae. The quiet twin.

Most nights, he came to check on me. He never spoke first, never raised his voice. Just watched me, those green eyes unreadable, his hands tucked in the pockets of his black shirt.

Sometimes he brought food — untouched, perfect — and set it near the bars of my cage without a word. Other times, he simply stood there in the half-light, his gaze cutting through me until my breath stuttered.

I wanted to hate him. I did hate him. And yet… something in me betrayed that hatred every time his eyes lingered on mine.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The air was too still, too sharp. I sat against the bars, knees pulled to my chest, listening to the crackle of the fireplace across the hall.

I could hear voices — Travis laughing low, the sound of glass breaking. Ryan’s voice followed, calm as ever. “You’re drunk.”

“Enough,” Ryan said, his voice edged with something dangerous.

The crash that followed made me jump. Then silence again.

The door opened moments later, and he stepped in. His shirt was half unbuttoned, a faint smear of blood on his knuckles.

His eyes found me instantly, scanning the small cage, my curled-up figure, my fear. “You’re awake,” he said.

I nodded carefully. “You… fought with him.”

He turned away, but I caught the faint tremor in his fingers before he could hide it. I looked at his hand. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” he said.

I stood — reaching through the bars, grabbing his wrist before I could think. “Let me see.”

His gaze snapped back to mine. For a heartbeat, the world froze. No one touched him. Not even his brother unless it was for violence.

Yet I did. Ryan didn’t pull away immediately. He stared at my hand on his wrist, as if trying to decide whether to break it or let it stay.

“Why?” he asked, voice low. “Why do you care?”

I swallowed. “Because I’m not like you.”

His eyes flickered — something unreadable passing through them before he took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the cage.

I froze. He opened the door, stepping aside. “Out.”

I didn’t move. “Is this another test?”

“It’s whatever you make it,” he said.

The air between us pulsed with tension. I stepped out slowly, every muscle taut, ready to run if I had to.

But he didn’t move. He just watched me.

“Sit,” he said quietly, gesturing to the chair by the hearth.

I obeyed. Ryan crouched down beside me, reaching for the small drawer in the table and pulling out a strip of cloth.

He held out his hand. “Wrap it.”

The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. “You could do it yourself.”

“Humor me,” he said softly.

I took his hand, careful not to press too hard against the torn skin. His blood was warm against my fingertips, his pulse steady.

The silence stretched until I could hear my own heartbeat echo in my ears.

“You shouldn’t have fought him,” I murmured. “He’s your brother.”

“He forgets things,” Ryan said. “Like control is strength. Not rage.”

I tied the bandage tighter. “You mean he’s like fire, and you’re the ice that keeps it from burning the world?”

He smirked faintly. “You think I’m ice?”

“Aren’t you?” I asked.

His eyes lifted to mine, and I realized too late how close he was. His scent was clean, cold metal and smoke.

My pulse skipped when his gaze dropped to my lips — just for a second — before returning to my eyes.

“I’m not as cold as you think, little wolf,” he said.

The nickname sent a strange warmth through me. Little wolf. No one had called me that since home.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you care,” I said.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood abruptly and turned toward the door.

“Stay by the fire tonight,” he said. “You’ll freeze otherwise.”

I frowned. “And the cage?”

He looked back, eyes shadowed. “You’ll return to it by dawn.”