Lyra
“And where, exactly, do you think you are going?”
His hulking silhouette blocked out the faint hallway torches at first—broad shoulders, rigid posture, heavy breath curling into the cool air of the doorway.
But the moment I forced my eyes upward and caught the full light on his features, every drop of blood in my body went ice cold.
Fredrick.
My stomach plummeted straight to the floor, my heart crashing right behind it.
Of all the guards, of all the wolves in this cursed territory, why did it have to be him?
He was supposed to be at Selene’s side, comforting her, cursing my name alongside the triplets, or surrounding her with guards to shield her pride.
He certainly had no business hunting down servants in the residential corridors.
What sick twist of fate dragged him to my door at this exact second?
“What…
what are you doing here?” I rasped, the words scraping out of my dry throat.
My voice shook violently, giving away my absolute terror before I could pull my composure together.
“I knew it,” Fredrick sneered, taking a heavy step across the threshold and forcing me backward into the room with the sheer hostility in his voice.
“The second I saw you sneaking away from the feast while the pack was distracted, I knew you were plotting something.”
His voice grew louder, echoing off the stone walls like a crack of thunder.
“You’re trying to run?!” he roared, his eyes bulging with rage.
“You’re trying to bring the wrath of the council down on every single one of us?!”
Every word dripped with poison.
His face twisted into a mask of pure fury—lips pulled back over his teeth, nostrils flaring.
It wasn’t just anger; it was the raw, humiliated rage of a man who needed to crush something weaker than himself to feel powerful again.
“Fredrick, please…
just listen to me—” I stammered, holding my breath, my throat closing up.
If I could just explain…
if he would just let me speak…
My plea never stood a chance.
His hand shot forward.
CRACK!
A blinding wave of force struck my cheek, snapping my head viciously to the side and sending a dull thud through my neck bones.
Pain flared white-hot behind my eyes, ringing in my ears and shooting straight down my spine.
For a full, agonizing second, the entire world spun off its axis.
“You absolute parasite,” he spat, closing the distance between us until his boots were touching my toes.
“You finally got what you wanted, didn’t you?
Splitting the pack in half just to destroy this family!”
The accusation was insane, toxic, and so fast I couldn’t even process the words through the haze in my head.
Tears of pure physical agony stung my eyes, mixing with the burning heat radiating across my face.
Before I could steady my feet, his thick fingers tangled violently into my hair, yanking my head backward with brutal force.
A strangled scream caught in my throat as my scalp tore under the pressure.
He yanked so hard I thought he was going to snap my neck right off my shoulders.
My eyes watered instantly, blinding me as fresh pain shot through my skull like lightning.
“Now you listen to me carefully,” he growled into my ear, his breath hot and sour against my skin.
“You…
are…
not…
going…
anywhere.”
He shoved my head back even further, forcing my eyes toward the ceiling, making sure I felt every ounce of his strength.
The agony in my scalp was so intense I couldn’t even draw enough air to sob.
Then, without warning, he let go.
The sudden loss of support sent me crashing down.
My knees slammed against the hard floorboards, followed by my hands and shoulders.
I crumpled into a heap, my hair falling over my face, the air completely knocked out of my chest.
Before I could push myself up, before I could gather the strength to stand, he lunged for the wooden chest in my arms.
He yanked it away and hurled it across the room with devastating force.
The latch snapped, the lid flew wide, and the contents exploded across the chamber like dead leaves in a gale.
My clothes scattered everywhere—across the stone, under the desk, against the far wall.
The two tunics, the wool blanket, the wooden comb, the tiny carved pendant my mother had given me—every single piece of the life I had carefully packed hours ago was now trampled, ruined, and exposed.
Fredrick towered over the destruction, his chest heaving as he breathed through his mouth, his eyes dark with dark satisfaction.
“This floor is where you belong,” he hissed.
“And you will stay right here whether you like it or not.”
I could only lie there among the scattered remains of my stolen freedom, my cheek throbbing, my pride completely shattered, watching the open doorway that had suddenly become my execution chamber.
I was still pinned to the floorboards, my body trembling in a tight ball, when a terrifyingly familiar sound cut through the quiet room.
The heavy sound of leather sliding through iron buckles.
My lungs locked up.
Fredrick’s hands moved with terrifying, methodical precision as he unbuckled his heavy leather belt, drawing it free with a slow, deliberate scrape.
He held it in his right fist, letting the brass end dangle near his boots.
Then he snapped his wrist…
SWISH!
The leather bit through the air, cutting the silence with a sharp whistle that made every muscle in my back contract in terror.
The sound alone felt like a physical blow.
I shivered uncontrollably, my skin flushing hot and cold as panic flooded my veins.
His eyes glinted with a sick, cruel pleasure.
“You really thought you could just walk out of the pack territory?” he whispered, his tone far more horrifying than when he was shouting.
A dark smirk twisted his face.
“Consider this a lesson on behalf of Selene,” he sneered, using her name to justify his own sadism.
“Poor Selene is probably out there weeping in her chambers right now, isn’t she?
But she’s too gentle to punish you herself for stealing her place at the altar.”
He paused, his grip tightening on the strap.
“Constraint isn’t my weakness,” he growled, taking a slow step toward me.
“I’ll do it for her.”
He reached down, hauled me up by one arm, and dragged me toward the door frame like a sack of grain.
My knees gave out beneath me, dragging along the wood, but he didn’t care.
His fingers dug into my flesh so hard I knew the bruises would turn black by morning.
With practiced efficiency, he yanked my hands behind my back.
Instead of using the belt to bind me, he snatched a torn strip of fabric from one of my scattered tunics, wrapping it around my trembling wrists and pulling it tight until my fingers went completely numb.
He hoisted my arms high above my head, looping the cloth over the iron hinge of the heavy oak door.
My face was pressed flat against the rough wood, my breath fogging the grain.
Panic clawed wildly at my chest.
I couldn’t run.
I couldn’t curl up.
I couldn’t even raise a hand to shield myself.
Hot, bitter tears spilled over my lashes, tracking down my cheeks and dipping onto the threshold.
I tasted salt, dust, and raw fear.
The first strike fell.
CRACK!
A blinding line of fire tore straight across my back.
A choked scream ripped out of my throat, cut short as my muscles locked up in violent spasms.
The skin burned like liquid iron.
Before the agony could fade, the second stroke detonated against my shoulder blades, slamming my forehead hard against the oak door.
Bright spots flashed in my vision.
A trickle of warmth ran down my temple—blood from where the skin had split against the wood.
Sobs broke from my throat, raw and uncontrollable.
The third blow landed.
Then the fourth.
Each strike carved another line of agony across my back, tearing through my clothes and ripping away whatever strength I had left.
By the fifth lash, my legs were entirely useless, leaving my entire weight hanging from my bound wrists.
I was completely drained—broken in body and hollowed out in spirit.
Pain throbbed through my spine with every violent beat of my heart.
Fredrick stepped back, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve, looking like a worker finishing a hard day’s labor.
He looked down at me—bleeding, suspended from the hinge, barely holding onto consciousness—with absolute, unadulterated disgust.
“Worthless,” he spat.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, stepped out into the corridor, and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.
Leaving me bound to the wood, torn open, and utterly alone in the dark.