Chapter 15: Cold Punishment

The car rolls into the Kael mansion, tires crunching softly against the gravel. I lean back in the seat, eyes closed, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. When the guards open the door, cool night air brushes my face, pulling me half-awake.

I slowly open my eyes.

The cake bags rest beside me—proof of a night spent laughing, choosing flavors, and forgetting, just for a while, that this world is cruel. Deniz and I had fun. Real fun.

I step out of the car and reach for the bags myself.

“Good evening, Young Master,” the servants greet in perfect unison.

One of them moves forward to take the bags from my hands.

“No need,” I say gently.

They freeze, then bow again.

I glance at my watch. It’s late. Too late. Zyke and Shine should already be asleep.

I promised Shine I’d join them for dinner… and I broke that promise.

Guilt pricks my chest.

He’s too kind. Too gentle. I shouldn’t have done that to him.

I walk into the mansion, the familiar glow of luxury surrounding me—high ceilings, golden lights, marble floors that echo with every step. My eyes instinctively search for one person.

Angel.

But before I can look further, I step into the living room—and stop.

They’re there.

Zyke and Shine sit calmly on the couch, side by side, as if they’ve been waiting all this time. Their eyes lift toward me at the same moment.

Shine smiles first, soft and warm. “Zyren, you’re back. Welcome home.”

My chest tightens.

So this is what it feels like—to be welcomed home. With soft smile.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

Shine’s hand rests protectively over his slightly rounded belly. He looks gentle. Radiant. I step closer, cake bags still in my hands.

Zyke’s gaze cuts into me—sharp, cold, dangerous. The same man who dragged me to the edge of death hours ago now sits there as if nothing happened.

Shine speaks again, his voice calm. “Why didn’t you come to dinner? Zyke and I were waiting.”

I set one cake bag on the table in front of him.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise, sister-in-law,” I say sincerely. “This is an apology. I hope you like the flavor.”

Shine blinks.

His eyes drop to the bag, then lift back to me—pure disbelief written all over his face.

I move to the opposite couch and sit down calmly, placing the second cake bag beside me. Strawberry Cake. For Angel.

Zyke’s eyes linger on the cake meant for Shine… then slowly lift to my face.

“When did you start buying sweets?” he asks coldly. “If I remember correctly, you hated them.”

I smile, unbothered. “I thought I should try them. Turns out, they’re really delicious.”

Shine chuckles softly. “You made a good choice.”

“Thank you,” I reply, returning his smile.

Zyke doesn’t speak again—but his gaze never leaves me.

In the novel, Zyke always controls himself in front of Shine. He loves him too much. Shine hates violence. As long as Shine is here, I’m safe—from fists, from pheromones, from being crushed by an S-class alpha’s rage.

I stand, picking up the strawberry cake bag.

“Please excuse me,”

I say lightly.

“I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Shine nods with a gentle smile. “Good night, Zyren.”

“Good night, sister-in-law,” I say warmly. Then I glance at Zyke. “Good night, big brother. Sweet dreams.”

I wave my fingers dramatically and turn toward the stairs.

As I climb, I can still feel it—

Zyke’s cruel, unblinking gaze burning into my back.

I walk through the hallway, eyes scanning every corner. Where is Angel? Why does he always hide somewhere, buried in work? Wait… I’m Zyren Kael. I have plenty of servants. Why am I bothering to look myself?

I stop a passing servant. “Where’s Angel?” I ask.

She bows lightly, voice trembling. “Young Master… he’s on the rooftop, mopping the floor.”

My eyes narrow. Mopping the floor—in the cold night—again?

I step closer, voice harder than I intend. “Who ordered him to do this? Didn’t I tell you not to give him any hard work?”

Her head bows lower, and her words barely escape her lips. “Young Master… some hours ago, while serving coffee to Master Zyke and his wife… Angel spilled some on Master Zyke’s clothes. Master punished him… he’s to do this work until midnight, mopping the cold marble… barefoot.”

My stomach twists. A punishment from Zyke? He did this on purpose. He knows better. He knows Zyren care for Angel—and he hurt him anyway.

My calm breaks—I want to scream, to fight, to tear the world apart for hurting him.

My fingers tighten around the cake bag in my hand. I drag a hand across my face, muttering under my breath. “Zyke…”

I step forward, hurry coursing through me, climbing the mansion stairs two at a time. My breaths come fast, uneven. My chest tightens as I reach the rooftop.

The cold night air slaps my face. My eyes widen.

Angel. Barefoot. Mopping the marble. Nose, lips, ears red from the chill. His hands trembling with every movement.

I freeze. The cake bag slips from my hand and falls with a soft thud.

Angel flinches, looking up at me. His wide eyes shine with surprise and worry.

I promise myself—I protect him. No matter what happens.

No words. No hesitation.

I step forward, urgency propelling me. Before he can speak, before he can protest, I wrap one arm around his waist, the other beneath his legs. He’s so light—so fragile—it feels like holding a feather, yet every heartbeat of his sends a shock through me.

“Young master…” he whispers, startled, flinching against me. His voice trembles, tiny and fragile.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my own voice shaking slightly. The night is cold, but my blood burns with protectiveness. I lift him effortlessly and turn toward the stairs. Every step down feels slower than time itself, every shiver he gives me piercing my chest like knives.

His small frame pressed against me, his warmth faint, I promise silently—no one will hurt you again. Not Zyke, not anyone. I will protect you, even if it kills me.

Inside the mansion, the warmth wraps around us, but I can’t relax until I know he’s safe. My hold tightens just slightly, because letting go—even for a second—feels impossible.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep