Page 8 of Her Possessive Minotaurs

Thalos shakes his head in frustration but doesn’t argue further. The majority wins.

I return my attention to Laia, feeling my brothers’ gazes on me but refusing to back down. She stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.

“You’re safe now,” I whisper more to myself than her.

I feel her pulse—weak but steady—and a flicker of relief passes through me. She's holding on, against all odds.

Thalos watches in silence, his arms crossed, his gaze hard. “Don’t get attached,” he warns. “She’s not one of us. She’s here for a reason.”

I don't respond immediately, focusing instead on the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The forest's silence presses in around us, broken only by the faint sounds of my brothers moving about the lair.

Thalos continues, his voice low and insistent, “Humans are cattle. Slaves.”

I press a fresh cloth to Laia's forehead again, her skin cool and clammy beneath my fingers. “I am aware, brother.” I say, my tone neutral.

“Aware? So why do you insist on having her here? You and Irix always need to have your way.” Thalos’s voice rises slightly, incredulous. “What will this girl ever offer us? I don’t get why you and Irix want her around.”

"I think she deserves a chance," I say simply. “And majority wins, brother.”

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6

LAIA

Iwake, every muscle screaming in protest as I shift on the makeshit bed. A flickering fire casts long shadows on the walls, its light dancing over the unfamiliar space. The scent of herbs lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy tang of blood and sweat.

My head pounds as I try to sit up, but my body refuses to cooperate. My limbs feel like lead; my throat is dry and raw. I force my eyes to focus on the fire, its warmth a small comfort against the rough bed beneath me.

"You're awake."

The voice startles me. I turn my head slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in my neck. One of the minotaurs crouches near me, his eyes studying me with an unreadable expression. It's Kael—the one who tended to my wounds.

"Where am I?" My voice comes out a croak, barely audible.

"Safe," he replies, his tone even but firm. "For now."

I try to push myself up again, but Kael's hand on my shoulder stops me. "Rest," he says. "Your body needs time to heal."

"I can't stay here," I whisper, panic rising inside me. "I need to keep moving."

"You won't get far in your condition," he says, his eyes locking onto mine. "You’re not strong enough."

His words sting, but I know he's right. My body is weak, and every breath feels like a struggle. I slump back against the stone floor, frustration boiling inside me.

"Why are you helping me?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Kael's expression softens just a fraction. "A life is a life," he says quietly. "Even one as stubborn as yours."

Thalos steps forward, his massive form blocking out the firelight. “Why are you here?”He demands, his voice cold, unforgiving.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. His gaze pins me to the spot, and my mind races for an answer that won’t get me killed.

“I... I escaped,” I finally manage to say, my voice trembling.

Thalos’s eyes were narrow, dark, and piercing. “From whom?”

I swallow hard, the memory of Eryndor’s cruelty flashing through my mind. “Lord Eryndor,” I whisper. “He... He kept me as a slave.”

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