Chapter 8

Blood instantly soaked Clara's white dress. Her right arm was broken, and she curled up on the ground in pain.

I looked at her calmly as she lay in a pool of blood.

"I prefer to have my revenge on the spot. That's just who I am." My voice was eerily calm. "You always have to pay the price if you destroy something that someone treasures."

Guests around us gasped, stepping back in shock. Some people shrieked while others started recording on their phones, and a growing crowd whispered anxiously.

"Oh my god, she actually hit her!"

"That was a silver trophy… Do you know how bad that is for werewolves?"

"Clara's arm is ruined!"

I ignored all of it and left that suffocating room. Then, heavy footsteps pounded behind me.

"Aurora!"

Damian's voice thundered with a rage I had never heard from him before.

I stopped and turned around slowly.

He was marching toward me from the crowd. A small, expensive vial of healing potion in his hand. It was clearly meant for Clara.

There was fire in his eyes—a fury I had never seen before.

"Why did you hurt her?!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard it felt like he would break my bones. I looked at him, a bitter smile forming inside.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "She destroyed my mother's painting."

"Even if she did, you can't hurt her!" Damian snapped at me. "She's always been so fragile! Do you even know what silver can do to her?"

That was the final straw. The thing that broke me completely.

So, it didn't matter what she did, or how much she had hurt me. In his heart, Clara would always be the one who couldn't be touched, the precious treasure.

And I? I was always the troublemaker who never matured.

Damian let go of me and rushed to Clara, immediately checking on her injury.

"Does it hurt?" His voice was full of concern. "Don't be scared. I'll fix it."

Clara leaned weakly against him, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts, Damian. Is my hand ruined?"

"It won't be. I won't let anything happen to you." Damian carefully poured the potion on her wound.

I stood there, watching it all, feeling everything inside me turn to ice.

"Get security," Damian ordered his men, not even looking back at me. "Lock Aurora up in the isolation cell for attacking a pack member."

The isolation cell.

It was where the Pack punished criminals who broke laws. The walls were made of pure silver. It could bring great harm to the werewolves inside.

If one were lucky, one would get away with rotting skin. If not, one might end up with neurological damage.

"Damian…" I tried to speak, but his cold eyes silenced me.

"That's enough," he said, his voice cold. "You have to face the consequences this time."

Two Pack Guards came over and locked silver cuffs around my wrists. The instant the cold metal touched my skin, the searing pain made me shudder.

As I was dragged away, I looked back one last time. Damian was still holding Clara, taking her for medical help—he never once looked at me.

As if I had never mattered at all.

The heavy silver door into the isolation cell clanged shut. Silver walls glared under the lights, and even the air itself felt full of something that made every werewolf's skin crawl.

Those three days in the cell were the worst days I had ever known.

I slid down the freezing wall, letting the silver cuffs bite deep into my wrists, leaving bloody marks.

I lost all sense of time, until I heard footsteps from outside.

A group of unfamiliar Pack Guards burst in, eyes full of malice.

"So this is the one who hurt Miss Clara?"

"She doesn't look like much."

I got to my feet, staying wary, but the silver cell had sapped my strength.

"Who sent you?" I asked weakly.

"Alpha Damian, of course. He said you needed some punishment," the leader replied.

I couldn't believe it. Even if he wanted to punish me, I never thought he'd go this far. But I couldn't think anymore as the pain overcame my senses.

The first punch slammed into my stomach, making me bend over.

Then came the second, the third…

I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound.

"Still trying to act tough?" one of them sneered. "Let's see how long you last."

I lost track of how many blows I took. Eventually, I collapsed on the floor, blood dripping from my lips and staining the silver floor.

Three days later, Damian finally came to let me out.

"Did you learn your lesson this time?"

That familiar voice echoed through the door.

I looked up, and saw Damian standing there with vision blurred, his voice colder than ever.