Chapter 4: The Mark Of The Mate

Sypha passed the lengthy room her nails digging into her palm it had been days, days of being locked up in the room, Days of nothing but silence, frustration, and the ever-growing fury simmering in her veins. 

Trevor had locked her away keeping her hostage like a caged animal, she only saw him when he stepped in occasionally grunting and saying nothing whatsoever.

He would watch her like she was some kind of problem he needed to solve. 

"As if I'm the one ruining his life." 

The food was always there on time. The clothes were neatly placed by the door. And yet, there was no explanation. No answers. Just a cycle of being ignored. 

She tried talking to the maid and guard who often dropped food and clothes off but no one talked to her.

Sypha had tried to escape again. Twice. The first time, she managed to slip out when a guard came to deliver food, only to be intercepted by Trevor himself. The second time, she attempted to pick the lock using a hairpin. That had ended with him slamming open the door, his eyes wild with barely restrained anger. 

And yet, he still never spoke to her unless it was to issue a command. 

"The infuriating bastard," she thought to herself like she was the cause of all his problems. 

Thoughts of Hector and his betrayal always crept into her mind, but she was more worried about her bounded wolf and powers and being held captive here by a mean handsome 6, 4 man with broad shoulders and brown eyes that made her weak in the knees, she shook her head trying to clear him from her thoughts, she needed to hate him not lust after him, after all, he was her captor.

Thoughts spiraled in her head everyone knew him to be a monster who killed trespassers and even visitors no one traded with him, he was said to have a bad temper, so why was she alive? And why hasn't he killed her yet? Was he keeping her alive to use her as leverage against her pack?

"He should know I'm worth nothing right now."

The sound of heavy boots echoed beyond the door. Sypha tensed. 

The lock clicked. 

The door swung open, and there he was—Trevor, looming like a damn storm cloud, his dark gaze unreadable. 

She scowled. "Come to grunt at me again?" 

His jaw ticked. He stepped forward, his presence suffocating. "Get up." his eyes traveled from her small frame to the windows the blinds were drawn and tiny scratch marks, she was trying to escape again.

Sypha crossed her arms. "Or what? You'll lock me up some more?" she pouted "Or maybe put a leash on me since I'm treated like an animal."

His patience was hanging by a thread; she could see it in the way his fingers twitched and his jaw clenched. But instead of reacting, he exhaled sharply and turned.

 "Follow me," he ordered. 

She stared at him, incredulous. "Where?" 

He didn't answer. 

Typical. 

She wanted to fight him, but even if she had her wolf she wouldn't have a chance, he was incredibly strong, she wanted to spit every curse she knew into his too perfect face—but her curiosity won. Huffing, she followed him through the hallways of his grand mansion.

Guards lined the walls, their eyes flickering toward her but never lingering. Fear should have gripped her at the sight of them, but she felt something else. 

Determination. 

They moved through the manor until they reached the courtyard. It was a massive, open space surrounded by high walls. Training equipment was scattered around—wooden dummies, sparring circles, and an assortment of weapons gleaming under the midday sun. At the other side, there was a door, it looked like it was a gym she saw a few guards inside training, everyone was on their feet training back at her pack they trained once a week when everyone gathered in the clearing to strengthen their wolves it was peaceful so they didn't need to prepare for anything.

Trevor turned to face her, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

"You don't get to rot in that room, singing and making my ears bleed" he stated. "You're going to train." 

Trevor liked her singing, it calmed his mind and he was able to sleep peacefully whenever she did. He almost took the head of one of his guards who came to complain about the singing.

Sypha barked a laugh. "Train? For what?" 

"For survival." 

When those men attacked her, she was helpless for a werewolf she was weak, extremely weak. 

Her amusement died instantly. "If you wanted me dead, you could have killed me the second I stepped into your land." 

Trevor's expression darkened. "If I wanted you dead, you would be." 

The air between them crackled with tension. 

Sypha hated how easily he made her feel small. How his voice alone made her spine go rigid and his those eyes made her dreamy.

"Fine," she snapped. "I'll train. But don't expect me to thank you for it." 

Trevor smirked. "I expect nothing from you." 

She knew she needed to get stronger if she was going to be without her wolf in the world her wolf had already given her strength now she was weak if she were to face Hector in this state she would be killed instantly.

He tossed her a wooden sword. She caught it, her fingers tightening around the hilt. 

"Show me what you can do," he said. 

Sypha glared at him before lunging. 

She swung with all her strength, but he dodged effortlessly. She struck again—faster, angrier—but he blocked her without even trying. 

"Predictable," he muttered, stepping aside as she stumbled forward. 

She gritted her teeth, frustration boiling over. "Fight me properly, you bastard!" 

His smirk vanished. 

In a blink, he moved. 

Faster than she could process, he grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm just enough to make her drop the sword. His foot swept her legs from under her, and she hit the ground hard, her back slamming against the dirt. 

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. He loomed over her, eyes ablaze with something primal, something dangerous. 

"You are weak," he said, voice low. "And in my world, the weak die." 

Sypha's chest rose and fell rapidly, her anger mixing with something far more terrifying—an undeniable awareness of him. 

She wanted to scream at him, to claw at his too-perfect face, but all she could do was glare she had always trained with her wolf learning everything from scratch it felt like she had forgotten how to walk.

Trevor released her wrist and stepped back. 

"Get up." 

She didn't move. 

"Get up, Sypha," he said again, voice sharper this time. 

Her body ached, but her rage burned brighter. With a growl of her own, she pushed herself to her feet. 

"Again," she hissed. 

Trevor tilted his head, assessing her. Then, without another word, he picked up the discarded sword and handed it back. 

She snatched it from his grasp. 

And they fought again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Each time had knocked it out of her hand or had her cornered.

Until her arms trembled, and her breath came in ragged gasps. 

Her shirt was soaked with sweat she was panting hard, she lifted her head to find Trevor staring at her, his brown eyes now dark.

"Had she done something to upset him, she pushed him too far during training?" she thought to herself, he turned away from her his back to her.

She reached out her tiny hands resting on his back, and she shivered, he grabbed her wrist and in one swift moment pinned her to the wall, her hands secured on top of her as he looked over her.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes glowing with something scary. 

Something primal. 

His canines lengthen. His grip tightened as she felt his fingers dig into her wrist. He leaned into her, his lips slightly fishing her ears and she quivered.

"Leave. Before I do something we both regret." 

But Sypha doesn't move. 

And neither does he. 

"You are not going to kill me, Trevor," she gathered the courage to say.

"Killing you would be easier and less painful, I'm going to mark you and claim you as mine."

Sypha's face was filled with confusion what did he mean to mark her, only mates did that she looked at him and he nodded.

"You are my fated mate."