Alaric stood at the door, his grip tightening on his sword. The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of his father's aggression. To anyone else, Alaric looked like a desperate prince protecting a secret, but Silas saw something else.
As Alaric prepared to step out, Silas reached out and caught the Prince's sleeve.
"Alaric, wait," Silas whispered.
Alaric turned, his eyes still dark with the golden glow of his Alpha spirit. "Stay hidden, Silas. My father is not a man of mercy."
Silas looked deep into Alaric's eyes and let out a soft, knowing breath. He didn't look afraid anymore. "Stop playing, Alaric. I know you. I know this fight is already won in your head."
Alaric froze. The mask of the "worried lover" slipped for a split second.
"You're playing on his emotions," Silas continued, his voice steady. "You're letting him think he has the upper hand so you can lead him exactly where you want him. You aren't just a warrior; you are a hunter. You've already set the trap, haven't you?"
A dark, clever glint appeared in Alaric's eyes. He realized he couldn't hide his true nature from Silas. Silas saw the cold, calculating leader beneath the grief.
"Go out there," Silas said, pushing him gently toward the door. "Be the nightmare he created. But come back to me quickly. I have something important to say to you, and I want to say it when this is over."
Alaric leaned down, pressing his forehead against Silas's for one brief moment. The predatory energy coming off the Prince was terrifying, but Silas didn't flinch. He knew this monster was his protector.
"Wait for me," Alaric commanded.
Then, he threw open the doors and stepped out into the hall. The Old King stood there, surrounded by guards, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. He thought he was walking into a tower to claim a prize. He had no idea he was walking into Alaric's cage.