Malrik’s Manipulations
The cold of the room seeped into Isla’s skin as she stirred awake, her silver hair cascading around her pale face. The faint glow of runes on the stone walls pulsed in an unnerving rhythm, casting shifting shadows across the chamber. Isla clenched her fists, forcing herself to sit upright despite the lingering weakness in her limbs.
The door creaked open, and Malrik entered, his movements slow and deliberate. He was clad in dark, richly textured robes that clung to his lean frame, his gray eyes sharp with calculation.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “Good. I prefer when we can speak without distraction.”
Isla’s silver eyes burned as she glared at him. “There’s nothing to discuss, Malrik. Whatever twisted ideas you have about me, they’re wrong.”
Malrik chuckled softly, pulling a chair across the room with a grating scrape. He sat across from her, leaning back with an air of smug ease. “You’ve been lied to, Isla. Shackled by expectations that don’t suit you. I’m offering you freedom—a chance to be something greater.”
“I already have everything I need,” she snapped, her voice firm despite the fatigue that gripped her.
Malrik tilted his head, his expression almost pitying. “Do you? A Luna bound to an Alpha who uses you as a shield and symbol, never letting you reach your full potential? Draven sees you as a piece of his strength. I see you as the strength.”
Isla’s lip curled. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
Malrik leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I do, Isla. I see the power that courses through you, the Moon Goddess’s chosen. With me, you could rule. The packs would bow to a queen who embodies divinity itself.”
“Enough,” Isla snapped, her anger rising. “Your words are poison, Malrik. Whatever you’re trying to sell me, I’m not buying.”
Malrik’s smile widened, a predator scenting blood. “Then allow me to demonstrate.”
Before Isla could react, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a calculated, audacious move. Her body froze, fury mingling with the icy dread that coursed through her veins.
With a surge of strength, she shoved him back, her voice shaking with rage. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
Malrik steadied himself, his expression unreadable, though his eyes gleamed with triumph. “You’ll come to me willingly, Isla,” he murmured, his tone maddeningly calm. “When the truth finally crushes you, you’ll see that I’m the only one who understands your worth.”
Isla’s hands trembled, her nails biting into her palms. “Get out,” she hissed, her voice filled with venom.
Malrik rose to his feet, adjusting the collar of his robe with infuriating composure. “Rest, my queen,” he said mockingly. “You’ll need your strength for what’s to come.”
The door closed behind him, and Isla collapsed back onto the bed.
