Page 116 of Bonds of Pain
I think about Poe, vulnerable in ways I never expected, yet still gentle with me. About Cillian, trapped in his own way, trying to navigate an impossible situation with what little agency he has.
Even Logan, beneath his cruelty and arrogance, fights to protect something—though I still don’t understand exactly what.
If I release this video, I become the monster I’ve accused them of being. I make their point for them—that I’m just a hysterical Omega unable to control myself, driven by emotion rather than reason.
My finger moves to the mouse, cursor shifting to the “delete” button instead.
Then my eyes fall on the nest again, and I wonder—how different might things have been if my heat had progressednaturally? If I’d been with men who respected me, who asked for consent instead of taking what they wanted?
Men who wanted me to choose them rather than forcing me to submit.
The thought crystallizes something inside me. This isn’t about becoming like them. It’s about showing them exactly what they’ve done to me. Making them understand, once and for all, that their actions have consequences.
With newfound resolve, I click “download” and attach the file to a message. In the recipient field, I type Belinda Farrow’s contact information—easily found in the palace directory on Ares’s desktop.
No subject line. No accompanying text. Just the video, speaking for itself.
My finger hovers over “send,” doubt creeping in at the last moment.
Am I doing the right thing? Or am I just perpetuating the cycle of violation and revenge?
But then I remember the moment Logan claimed me against my will. The moment he stole my choice, my future, my body.
I click “send” before I can second-guess myself again.
The confirmation appears: “Message sent successfully.”
I sit back in Ares’s chair, a strange emptiness hollowing me out from the inside. There’s no triumph, no satisfaction—just a quiet certainty that things will never be the same again.
For better or worse, I’ve made my choice.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
LOGAN
As I walk into the king’s private office for our daily meeting, I stop short upon seeing inquisitor Thane reclining next to him in a high-backed chair.
Leopold sits behind his massive desk, his face set in stone. On the desk before him lies a small yellow pill, identical to the ones we found after Maya’s heat.
“Sit,” my father commands.
I take a seat across from him, acutely aware of Thane settling into the chair beside me. The Inquisitor’s presence makes this more than just a routine meeting—something has happened, something serious enough to warrant his involvement.
“We have made significant progress in our investigation into Ander’s death,” my father announces without preamble. “The Inquisitor believes we are close to making an arrest.”
I force my expression to remain neutral despite the panic flaring in my chest. “That’s...good news.”
“Is it?” My father’s gaze bores into me.
I keep my breathing even, my face composed. Years of palace politics have taught me to hide my reactions, but I’ve never had to mask them from my father. He knows me too well.
My eyes drift to the yellow pill on the desk. “What’s that?”
The king glances at it as if surprised to find it there. “This? A sample seized during a raid at the border.”
“An unrelated matter,” Thane interjects smoothly. “We’ve discovered these pills contain a compound that mimics Omega heat hormones. They’ve been circulating through the underground market for some time.”
I frown, studying the pill more closely. It looks exactly like the ones from the basement—the ones Maya took before her unexpected heat. The connection is impossible to ignore, but I can’t reveal that I recognize them without raising questions I’m not prepared to answer.
