CHAPTER THREE

LYRA'S POV

A painful jolt of heat in my lower belly wakes me. It feels like my entire body is melting and tensing all at once.

My claws scrape against the floor as my back arches off the soft bedding I'd been placed on, every muscle in my body burning from the mate bond.

My body wanted Ronan, ached for him in a way that made my skin feel like it didn't belong to me, but I wanted to tear him apart.

I kick away the mountain of blankets thrown haphazardly over me before sitting up on the cot I'd been placed on.

That was another thing about Misthollow's dungeons.

They were built to hold unruly teenagers and angry fathers throwing punches during ceremonies or pack games. They were never meant for enemies.

Father never intended them to be used that way.

There were even jokes throughout the pack that while other dungeons imprisoned criminals, Misthollow's came with cots and warm bread for their occupants.

Now hundreds of Misthollow wolves were trapped in their own dungeon. Their Alpha dead and his successor trapped and mated to the enemy’s Alpha.

A tear runs down my cheek, but I swallow the sob threatening to follow when I hear heavy boots approaching my cell.

I close my eyes as an unwanted bolt of electricity shoots up my spine and settles low in my belly. My mouth falls open in a silent moan. It takes every ounce of willpower not to press my legs together.

“I'm not Ronan." 

My eyes shoot up at the familiar growly voice that belonged to Viktor. I scramble backward until my shoulders hit the wall, only then realizing my ankles had been chained to a newly drilled iron ring.

"Fuck you," I whisper.

"I'd rather you didn't."

A faint ripple of curiosity brushes the back of my mind before revulsion immediately follows as I feel Ronan pressing against the bond.

This has to be a joke.

"A cruel joke.” Rue replies weakly.

“Rue." My fingers instinctively reach for the base of my skull, as though I could somehow pull my wolf closer. 

“I'm sorry. I just couldn't.” She apologizes, her normally chirpy voice thick with emotion.

"It's okay, my girl. You are here now and that's all that matters.” I reassure her.

Rue had gone quiet the moment father's bond disappeared. For a moment I thought she had left me too.

A snarl leaves my lips as I feel that foreign consciousness probing at the bond again. I almost lash out physically before I feel Rue bring a wall up between us.

Viktor suddenly turns toward me. His eyes roam over me, lingering long enough for me to realize he's checking whether something is wrong.

Without a word, he pours a dark herbal liquid into a bowl resting nearby.

He holds it out.

When I don't take it, he steps forward and pushes it into my hands, spilling some across the cot.

"Ronan sent this. It's for your..." He gestures vaguely toward me.

"Heat you mean. A curse misplaced upon me by the goddess.” 

"Doing stupid things like this doesn't hurt Ronan.” He shakes his head at me, taking the bowl and placing the tonic beside the cot when I don't drink it.

"If I were you, I'd do everything I could to stay lucid long enough to make the best decisions for my people."

"If you were me, you'd hate Ronan and all of Blackthorne just as much as I do."

"Then it's Fenrir's blessing that I'm not you.”

Another violent pulse of heat makes my hand twitch toward the bowl.

“He thought about us. Even in his final moment.” Rue whispers.

"Rue…don't.” I plead.

Viktor turns away and began poking the hearth by the corner. 

“I need to speak to your Alpha. Since he doesn't intend to kill me now, we need to bury our dead.”

"I'll advise you to hold off on the burial for now." Viktor replies casually. "Who's to say there wouldn't be more of you to bury in a few more days.”

I lunge. My claws slash through empty air before the chain around my ankle jerks me backward.

“Take the tonic and get some sleep. You have long days ahead of you.”

He rises to his full height, studies me one final time, as though committing my condition to memory, then leaves, bolting the cell behind him.

Grinding my teeth, I reach for the bowl. For a moment, I'm tempted to pour it onto the floor but instead I sigh, drink the bitter tonic, and sink back onto the cot.

My chest tightens as my thoughts drift toward everyone locked in the lower dungeons. They had no idea what was happening. I wished I could know what they were feeling.

Fear? Grief? Acceptance? I didn't know which one scared me more but something about the third one unsettled me. But I was going to come out of this alive and lead Misthollow wolves to rebuild our home and take back our lives.

I just didn't know how to start that without father.

“We should-" Rue cuts herself off.

Ronan's side of the bond suddenly flares with protectiveness before curiosity begins scratching insistently at the walls between us once more. Demanding something I refuse to give.

"It seems that the wall doesn't hold forever.” Rue murmurs thoughtfully. My heart leaps at the the curious lilt in her tone. She may be grieving but she wouldn't be down for long.

"Ignore it. We need to find a way to send a message to Silverclaw pack." I say.

Silverclaw pack was our closest ally, our alliance had been sealed through my betrothal with Keyon. They wouldn't turn their back on us.

Nearly four hours pass after Viktor leaves before I hear those familiar heavy boots crunching down the corridor once again.

I sit upright before he even reaches my cell. The moment his broad frame appears between the bars, I speak.

"Take me to-" 

"Ronan and the council request your presence.”