🦋ALTHEA
The cell had no windows. Dampness clung to every surface, the air almost too stale to breathe. I felt claws rake through the lining of my lungs. I was uncertain if it was the air or the aftermath of the beating that caused it.
I could not heal myself the way others did because I had no wolf, so I lay on the damp floor, budgeting every inhale and exhale like it would be my last.
I swallowed, my mouth filled with blood, my tongue heavy.
If I could reach out, I would find the teeth that my mother had personally pulled out.
I cradled my still-flat belly, hoping to feel my pup. Just a sign that, just like me, it had survived the first phase of this ordeal.
And just as quickly, regret washed over me—hot and searing. How could I wish it to live like this? If I were not so selfish, I should have wanted it to go back to where it came from and not suffer along with me.
But in the suffocating tragedy that my life had cataclysmed into, I still clung to the one person I had left to share my cell with. Even if it was inside me, had no name, and was nothing but a heartbeat.
I rubbed over it, trying not to grimace as I moved my broken fingers.
The baby didn't move. Didn't kick. Didn't give me any sign.
But it was there. It had to be there.
I had nothing else.
The door groaned open, metal scraping against stone, and I flinched. My body screamed in protest as I tried to curl tighter, to make myself smaller, to disappear into the floor.
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
I didn't look up.
Couldn't.
"Still breathing, I see."
Elias.
His voice was cold, amused, like he'd stumbled upon a wounded animal and was deciding whether to finish it off or let it suffer.
I said nothing.
"Draven will be back in three days," he continued, his boots stopping just in front of me. "He's been informed. About Circe. About the heir. About you."
My chest tightened.
"He wanted to come back immediately, of course. But the High Alpha wouldn't allow it. Matters of the Allied Packs, you understand." He crouched down, and I could feel his eyes on me. "You deserve this you know? Even if we both know you didn't do it."
I forced my swollen eyes open, just enough to see him through the slits.
He smiled.
"Wha—." I tried force the question out. How did he know? I needed to know.
But I couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
He stood, brushing off his pants as though I'd contaminated him just by existing.
"Three days, Althea. Then he'll decide what to do with you." He paused at the door. "My vote? Public execution. The pack deserves a show. You deserve that after what you took from me."
The door slammed shut.
And I was alone again.
—
The air had grown familiar. It did not churn my stomach like it had before. Still, hunger ravaged at my gut. I could feel my acids eating through it, dissolving me from the inside out.
I didn't know how long I'd been here.
Hours? Days?
Time had lost meaning in the dark.
The door opened again.
Different footsteps this time.
Heavier. Measured. Purposeful.
I knew them before I saw him.
Draven.
My body went rigid, every instinct screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything but lie here and wait for whatever he'd come to do.
But I couldn't move.
Could barely breathe.
He stepped into the cell, and behind him came the Vargans. Three of them, their silver markings glinting faintly in the torchlight. They carried covered platters, the scent of food hitting me like a physical blow.
My stomach clenched violently.
I hadn't eaten since—
I didn't remember.
Draven's eyes found me on the floor, broken and bloodied, and his expression was unreadable. Not angry. Not disgusted. Just... assessing. Like I was a problem he needed to solve.
He gestured to the Vargans, and they set the platters down on a small table near the wall. Then he dismissed them with a wave, and they filed out silently, leaving us alone.
He sat in the chair they'd brought, crossing one leg over the other, his gaze never leaving me.
"Come here," he said softly.
I didn't move.
Couldn't.
My jaw was too swollen to speak, my body too broken to obey.
He waited a moment, then stood. My heart lurched as he approached, and I flinched, pressing myself harder against the damp stone floor.
But he didn't strike me.
Instead, he knelt beside me, close enough that I could smell him—leather and pine and something darker, something I used to think was safety.
He reached for one of the platters, uncovering it to reveal bread, meat, and fruit. Simple. Fresh.
My mouth flooded with saliva despite the pain.
"Eat," he said, tearing off a piece of bread and holding it to my lips.
I stared at him, confused.
Why?
Why was he doing this?
"Eat," he repeated, his voice firmer now.
My stomach twisted with hunger so sharp it hurt. I opened my mouth—barely, because my jaw screamed in protest—and he placed the bread on my tongue.
I chewed slowly, every movement agony, but I couldn't stop. I was so hungry. So desperately, painfully hungry.
I hoped it was poisoned.
Hoped this would be the end.
But I ate anyway.
He fed me another piece. Then another. His hand steady, his expression calm. Like this was normal. Like he wasn't the reason I was here in the first place.
Every time he brought the food closer, I flinched.
Couldn't help it.
My body remembered even if my mind tried to pretend it didn't.
But he didn't react. Just kept feeding me, patient and methodical, until the plate was empty.
Then he brought water to my lips.
I drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat, washing away the taste of blood.
When I was done, he set the cup aside and leaned back, studying me.
"I knew you were possessive of me," he said quietly. "But this—" He shook his head. "This was unprecedented. Especially for you."
I blinked at him, trying to understand.
What?
"You can't even whip a Vargan," he continued, his tone almost conversational. "But to harm my wife because of jealousy?" He tilted his head. "I didn't think you had it in you."
No.
No, that wasn't—
I tried to speak, tried to force the words past my broken jaw and swollen gums, but nothing came out except a strangled sound.
I shook my head frantically.
No. No, I didn't—
His expression darkened.
"Don't lie to me," he said, his voice dropping to something cold and dangerous. "Not after I just fed you. Not after I showed you mercy."
I kept shaking my head, tears streaming down my face.
Please.
Please believe me.
"You're being disobedient," he said softly. "Even now. Even after everything."
He stood abruptly, and I barely had time to register the movement before his hand came down.
The blow caught me across the face, snapping my head to the side. Pain exploded through my already-broken jaw, and I tasted fresh blood.
I collapsed fully, gasping, choking on the copper flooding my mouth.
"You didn't just toe the line, Althea," he said, looming over me. "You crossed it. You destroyed it. And now your time is ticking."
I couldn't see him through the haze of pain, but I could hear him moving, hear the door opening again.
Footsteps.
More Vargans.
Male this time.
They carried equipment, sharp, gleaming, unfamiliar.
My stomach dropped.
"Don't worry about your pup," Draven said, his voice almost gentle. "We'll keep it alive. For as long as possible."
He turned to a female Vargan. "It's alive, isn't it?"
She nodded.
He crouched beside me again, his hand resting on my belly.
I wanted to scream.
Wanted to claw his eyes out.
But I couldn't move.
"Our blood saved this pack once," he continued. "It can do it again. And again. And again."
He stood, gesturing to the Vargans.
"Harvest it," he ordered. "Carefully. She needs to last."
They moved toward me, and I realized with cold, sinking horror what he meant.
He was going to bleed me.
Slowly.
Keep me alive just long enough to drain every drop of value from me.
And the baby—
Oh gods, my baby—
He was going to keep it alive inside me while he did it.
A living incubator.
A blood bank.
Nothing more.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Only silence.
Only darkness.
Only the slow, inevitable descent into a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
I shook my head, tears spilling. But he held my face and dipped his head to my ear. "Just submit and agree. Wren will be safe. Or else—"
The threat was clear as the sinister light that shone in his eyes.