The Alpha dismissed the soldier with a lazy flick of his fingers, his smirk never wavering.
Elias had locked himself away, struggling, resisting—but for how long?
The drug was relentless.
It would burn through him, reduce his walls to dust, leave him desperate for relief he wouldn't find.
And yet…
The Alpha leaned forward, eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight.
Would he fight it?
Would he claw his way through the haze, force himself to endure?
Or would he give in, let the heat consume him, let it unravel that fragile control he clung to so tightly?
A slow, satisfied hum left the Alpha's throat.
Either way, Elias was losing.
And the best part?
He didn't even realize it yet.
The Alpha stood, stretching, rolling his shoulders before stepping toward the window. From here, he had a perfect view of the fortress, its towering walls, its endless corridors.
And somewhere inside—Elias.
Alone.
Struggling.
Perhaps cursing his own body, cursing the situation, cursing him.
The thought sent something dark and satisfied curling in the Alpha's chest.
This was what made the game worth playing.
Not just the chase.
Not just the power.
But watching—
Watching Elias fight himself. Watching him crumble in ways he didn't yet understand.
The Alpha's fingers twitched at his sides.
He could go to him now.
He could step inside that room, lean down, whisper in his ear—
How does it feel, little one?
But no.
He wouldn't.
Not yet.
Elias was stubborn.
He needed to suffer a little longer.
To squirm.
To realize, piece by piece, that the more he fought, the deeper he sank.
So the Alpha turned from the window, his smirk deepening as he walked away.
He would give Elias this night.
But by morning?
The real game would begin.