Fred pov:
I didn't bother knocking.
The moment i caught Jace laughing like a fool with the girl, something inside him snapped. Not that he cared. He was merely ensuring that things stayed in order. That no one forgot the reason she was here.
Yet as the door swung open and Syria's head snapped toward him, those silver eyes wide with surprise, i felt the smallest hitch in his breath.
Unacceptable.
He dismissed the boy with a glance. "Jace. Leave."
Jace's grin dropped, confusion flickering in his eyes. "But—"
"I said, leave."
The command in his tone brooked no argument. Jace hesitated for a second longer than he should have, but eventually pushed to his feet and made for the door, muttering something under his breath. I didn't care.
She stood now, arms crossed, defiant as always. "You could have at least knocked."
Raising an eyebrow. "This isn't your room. It's ours. You'd do well to remember that."
Her nostrils flared slightly. "Fine. What do you want?"
Straight to the point. He liked that. Most girls in her position would have been cowering by now. Rein stood her ground, chin raised like she didn't just belong to them. Like she wasn't sold to serve a purpose.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
"You've had enough time to rest," he said, keeping his voice even. "Enough time to get used to your surroundings. From tomorrow, your role here begins."
Her eyes narrowed. "My role?"
He met her gaze. "Breeding."
Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled too tight. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting into her skin. I noticed the way her throat moved as she swallowed whatever insult or fear she was about to spit.
She didn't scream. Didn't cry.
Just stared at him like she might kill him if she could.
"I'm not a cow."
Titling my head. "No. You're something much more valuable."
That seemed to enrage her more than anything else. She turned away from him, pacing toward the bed before stopping short. Her voice was low. "Do I get a say in who it'll be?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Truthfully, he hadn't considered it.
"It'll be me," he said simply.
She spun around, shocked. "What?"
He didn't repeat himself.
"I'm not a toy for your ego," she snapped. "Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean—"
"I don't care about order," he cut in, voice suddenly sharp. "I care about control. And I'm the only one capable of keeping this situation from turning into chaos."
Rein glared at him. "You think this is control? Buying someone and calling it order?"
I stepped closer. "It's survival. we need someone to continue our bloodline. You're here because your body can fix that. What you think of it doesn't matter."
For a moment, he thought he'd gone too far. That she'd lash out. But she just stood there, breathing hard.
He took one more step, now inches from her.
"But I'll make you a promise," he said, quieter now. "If you cooperate, I'll make sure the others don't overwhelm you. I'll keep them in line."
She gave a bitter laugh. "And if I don't?"
"Then you'll find out just how little control I have over them when I'm not involved."
He saw it—the flicker of doubt, of worry. Not fear, though. Syria was too proud for that.
I almost respected her for it.
Almost.
She turned her back on me again. "Get out."
He didn't move.
"Fred," she said, sharper. "I said get out."
Still, he lingered. His eyes dropped to the curve of her back, the tense line of her shoulders.
Why did she bother him so much? Why did the idea of his brothers touching her make his jaw clench?
She wasn't his. None of this was supposed to matter. And yet...
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said finally.
Then he left—door clicking shut behind him—but her scent stayed with him long after.
Damn it.
He wasn't supposed to care.