Page 29 of Rejected by My Shadow Alpha (Mate to the Fallen #1)

Ruby

The guards didn't say a word as they escorted me down the long, echoing hallway.

The last time I was here, it was to cajole my father to let me keep Liora, only to eavesdrop on him gloating over Drew's death.

Now, I'm down this path again, unsure what my father's plans toward my child would be, her life once again in danger.

My palms were slick, my breath uneven. I was no longer afraid of my father.

That fear had long since calcified into something colder.

It was the not knowing that gripped me now.

What would he do with Liora if I refused to let her help him open the chest?

My mother had lost her life because he forced her to use her powers.

The heavy doors of my father's study creaked open. The moment I stepped inside, everything inside me stilled, and relief washed through me.

Liora.

She was seated across from him in one of the tall leather chairs, her feet barely brushing the floor.

Her silver hair was neatly pulled back. She was small and still, with her spine straight and shoulders squared like a queen on a throne she didn't ask for.

Her tiny hands were folded neatly on her lap, her eyes sharp and unreadable.

She looked so eerily calm, unblinking, and regal.

My heart stuttered. She didn't even look afraid. I rushed across the room before I could stop myself. "Liora!"

She turned, and a soft, tired smile touched her lips. "Mom."

I could hardly breathe. My steps faltered as I rushed across the study and dropped to my knees before her, cupping her face. "Baby," I whispered, "are you alright? Did he…did they do anything to you?"

"I'm fine," she said gently, placing her hand over mine. "He didn't hurt me."

I pulled her into a hug and wrapped my arms around her, anchoring myself in her warmth. She was safe, for now.

Behind me, my father let out a scoff. "Look at you," he said dryly. "Jittery, breathless, and falling apart before anything's even begun."

I turned sharply, rising to face my father, fury in my veins. "You keep her away from your madness, Alfred. You hear me?"

He wasn't listening to me. He was watching Liora and studying her.

She sat with one hand tucked delicately in mine, the other by her side.

She was quiet and still, but with a presence that commanded the room.

I realized she wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't posturing, either.

She just was there, observing him with a sort of disinterest that seemed to make him squirm.

There was a flicker in his eyes. Something I had never seen before in him.

Awe.

"Fascinating," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone.

"You're not like her," he said, his voice low and almost thoughtful.

"Your mother was unremarkable in many ways.

You inherited her softness. But this one…

" He tilted his head. "There's something timeless about her. I can feel it in the air."

My stomach twisted. He was already comparing us, measuring me against a child. "She's seven," I snapped. "Don't you dare use her to project whatever you think I lacked."

"She's seven," he echoed with a low chuckle, "and already more controlled than you've ever been. The way she watches and calculates. She understands her place. You…" He waved a dismissive hand. "You've always been ruled by sentiment."

Liora tilted her head, calm as a moon in shadow. "That's because you think being kind means being weak."

My heart lurched. She was reading his thoughts. No, he mustn't know. I tapped her hand gently, giving her a warning glance, but she didn't stop.

My father narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"

Liora met his gaze, her voice soft but steady. "You're thinking I'm everything you wished Mommy was, quiet and easy, someone who doesn't fight back."

She leaned forward slightly, not defiant but sure. "But you're wrong," she said. "You don't know what strong means. You think it's about yelling and hurting people, but Mommy's strong in a different way. She loves and protects me. That's why you don't like her…because she's not scared of you."

I stopped breathing.

There it was, innocence wrapped around wisdom. My daughter, barely seven, sounded like someone older. My father stared at her, stunned by what she had just said.

I stopped breathing.

Goddess…Liora had said too much. I saw it the instant his expression changed—the slight narrowing of his eyes, the flicker of interest turning sharp.

He knew. My chest tightened, and a slight tremor of cold dread slithered through me.

She hadn't just spoken. She had revealed his thoughts, and now he was calculating.

My daughter can read minds, and he'd just seen a weapon where I saw a child. Panic gripped me, but I stayed frozen, praying I could still protect her somehow.

I turned to Liora, my heart pounding, and whispered, "Sweetheart, that's enough. Let's not…let's not upset him now."

My father straightened, his eyes darkening. "So. The rumors were true." He stated matter-of-factly, a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. "How long have you had these abilities?" he asked coolly.

Liora didn't answer.

"What else can you do? You read minds, fine. What about visions? Ancient memory? Can you manipulate energy? Unlock sealed blood locks?"

"Stop it," I said, stepping between them. "She's just a child."

"She's the key," he said sharply, his eyes blazing now. "The safe…the Lunaris vault needs someone with strong alpha Lunaris power to open it. She has it, doesn't she?"

It wasn't a question for me to answer. He motioned toward a velvet-draped object in the corner, and a guard pulled the cloth away.

The chest. I had never seen it in all my years growing up in this mansion.

It sat like a beast in the corner of the room: heavy gold with blackened runes etched deep across its surface.

The Lunaris crest gleamed on the lid, carved with such precision that it looked like it was breathing.

The lock shimmered faintly, sealed with ancient power. It was a vault older than any of us.

"She's the key," my father said, more to himself than to me.

"Lunaris blood alone won't open it. Not even a Luna can open it.

" He scoffed and folded his arms. "Your mother tried and failed woefully.

It needs a vessel." His eyes rested on Liora, his expression grim, "She's a child with strong ancient powers tied to the bloodline of the alpha. She can do it."

Liora stared at the chest, silent. Something passed over her face: recognition and revulsion.

"You feel it, don't you?" he pressed. "You can sense it. It's calling to you. You were born for this moment. This chest holds everything your lineage left behind: fortunes, maps, weapons, forgotten rituals. Secrets that can bring Cornerstone back to its rightful rule. You could be part of that."

I waited with bated breath. What would Liora do? The silence in the room made the atmosphere charged with tension.

"Well?" His voice sharpened like a whip. "Open it."

Liora looked at him, quiet for a moment, her small fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Then she shook her head vehemently like she could see through him. "No."

My father stiffened, his face beginning to turn red. "What did you say?"

"I don't want to," she said, louder this time but still gentle. "You are a bad man."

He stepped closer, frustration rolling off him in waves. "You don't understand what's inside. This is your legacy!"

She turned to me then, her eyes wide but calm. "Mom, I don't think it's safe. He wants what's in there, but I can feel he will use it for bad things."

She looked back at my father. "You're not a nice man. You hurt and scare people. I won't help open it."

I swallowed hard, my heart twisting. Her voice was still soft and childlike, but steady. Innocent, yet filled with a deeper knowing, like something older was whispering inside her.

"You insolent…" He turned to me, fury rising like a wave. "Make her obey."

I stood in front of her. "No."

"You don't get to decide that!" he roared.

I grabbed Liora's arm and pulled her behind me. "She's not your weapon. She's not your key."

His eyes sharpened. "You convince her, or I'll do what must be done." He turned toward the guards by the door. "Get the power extractor in the lab working."

The guard nodded and left, his face expressionless.

I paled. "You said you wouldn't hurt her!"

"Not if she cooperates," he said smoothly, "but clearly, she needs motivation. I wonder what happens when you watch her die slowly, tied to the extractor."

"Don't you dare."

"I'm tired of your defiance, Ruby. Fix this or I will," he snapped, unmoved by my pleas.

I shook my head. "I can't, Father," I whispered. "Please, let us go."

He snapped to his guards. "Separate them."

"No!" I screamed as they rushed forward. I shoved Liora behind me and fought. I clawed, bit, and kicked. Two of them lunged forward, and I fought like hell.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled, striking the first one with my elbow, twisting out of another's grip.

My wolf surged beneath my skin, wild and feral, but I was no match for trained wolves in full armor.

One of them yanked my arm back hard enough to send pain shooting through my shoulder.

The other grabbed me by the waist and lifted me off the ground.

Liora's eyes widened, but she didn't cry out. She didn't scream. She just stood there, fists clenched at her sides, trembling with a kind of quiet fury that made even the guards hesitate.

"Mom!"

"I'm here!" I shouted as they dragged me to the door. "Don't do anything he says. Don't give him anything!"

The doors slammed shut. The lock clicked. I slumped to the floor in the hallway, my heart cracking open inside my chest.

Something inside me snapped.

The guards dropped me roughly to my feet in the hallway. Before I could lunge back toward the door, each one seized an arm, gripping tightly. My boots scuffed against the marble as they hauled me down the corridor.

I twisted, snarled, and tried to rip free. "Get your filthy hands off me!"

They didn't react or say a word, just silent efficiency. I stopped struggling, not because I surrendered, but because I needed to think, to watch, and strike when it mattered. My breath came hard and fast, fury burning beneath my skin.

My child was alone with him. That monster.

I was being led away like prey, but he'd made a mistake because I was no prey. Tucked between my breasts, warm against my pounding heart, was the silver knife belonging to my mother. My father had called me jittery and falling apart. Oh, he would soon find out I could be quite ruthless.