Day two of the lock down brought the full, crippling force of the 24/7 bond. Since Kaelan's initial touch had been accepted, the bond remained wide open, an unwelcome shared channel between their minds.
Anya woke from a dream that wasn't hers: a memory of Kaelan as a young Alpha, watching helplessly as a rival pack executed a Beta who had begged for his protection. The memory was saturated with shame and failure, not the expected Alpha arrogance.
Kaelan was already awake, leaning against the headboard, his expression distant and haunted.
"You saw that," he stated, his voice flat. "The cost of command."
"You couldn't save him," Anya whispered, the memory feeling intensely personal.
"I chose the pack over the individual," Kaelan replied, his gaze sharp. "It is always the choice. It is why I cannot afford attachment."
Anya realized his possessiveness wasn't just about dominance; it was a deeply ingrained defense mechanism against emotional cost. If he claimed her, he bore responsibility for her survival, making her a necessary duty rather than an emotional vulnerability.
Later, during the neurological stabilization session, Anya had to hold Kaelan's hand while calibrating the sensors. The proximity and sustained contact amplified the bond, transmitting the current wave of his emotion: a dense, quiet loneliness.
"Why did you wait so long to fix this?" Anya asked, referring to his tremor.
"Pride," Kaelan admitted, the word a heavy stone. "An Alpha cannot show weakness. Especially not to the Council. Or to the Mate I claimed to save my reputation."
Anya finished the calibration, releasing his hand. She hated the vulnerability she saw, because it made her responsibility for him undeniable. He wasn't just a monster; he was a terrified, lonely king burdened by a crown he never asked for, and she was the only person who had ever truly seen his flaw.