CHAPTER TWO.

The iron doors slammed behind me with a sound that rattled my bones. I flinched, half-expecting the walls to collapse and swallow me whole. The air smelled of cold stone, sweat, and despair, a scent that clung to my skin and would follow me forever if I let it.

I swallowed hard, my wrists still stinging from the cuffs. The officer shoved me down the hallway, past rows of cells, each one holding someone with eyes as hollow as mine felt. The clanging of metal echoed endlessly, a rhythm of punishment I couldn’t escape.

“Your cell,” the officer barked. “Move.”

I stepped inside. The space was tiny, barely larger than a coffin. The walls were cold, unyielding stone. A single cot, a metal toilet, and a thin blanket that smelled faintly of mildew. I pressed my palms to my face, trying not to sob, trying not to break.

They shut the door behind me. The key rattled in the lock. The sound reverberated inside my skull like a death knell.

I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and finally let the tears come. For hours, I cried, hot, bitter tears that left my eyes raw and my cheeks stinging. I cried for the boy I hadn’t killed, for the sister who had betrayed me, for the parents who had chosen her lies over my truth. I cried for the girl I had been just yesterday, who had come home full of hope, who had imagined a reunion, a love, a family that cared.

None of it mattered anymore.

After a while, the sobs slowed. My chest ached, my mind raced, and through the pain, a strange clarity began to form. I would survive this. I had to survive. I didn’t know how yet, but the fire inside me refused to die.

The first night was hell. Shadows twisted in the corners of my cell. The other inmates stared at me through the bars, murmurs following me wherever I went. Wolfless. Weak. Thornbrook trash. The words echoed in my mind, gnawing, burning.

One woman leaned against the bars, her voice low and sharp. “New girl. Thornbrook, huh? Thought your kind stayed in fancy houses and had servants wipe their tears for them.”

I glared, voice trembling but defiant. “I’m no one’s trash.”

She smirked. “We’ll see, princess. Survive tonight, maybe you’ll make it another day.”

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. I would survive. Somehow, I would.

The next weeks were a blur of routine and humiliation. Prison life was brutal, stripping every shred of dignity I had left. I woke before dawn, worked, scrubbed, ate tasteless food, and slept on the hard cot, my body aching and bruised. And yet… through the monotony, something inside me began to stir.

I was stronger than I realized.

In the yard one afternoon, while hauling water buckets with trembling arms, I noticed a boy sitting alone by the wall. His gaze was steady, calm, but guarded. He had a kind of quiet strength about him, the kind you didn’t see until it hit you in the chest.

The garden was quiet except for the trickle of water from the fountain and the occasional scrape of a hoe or shovel from the other prisoners. I carried a bucket of water, my arms trembling from the repetitive motion, when I noticed him sitting alone on the fountain’s edge. He didn’t call out. He didn’t move. He just… observed.

Something about him made me pause. Not fear. Not caution. But recognition. A weight, like he carried the same kind of invisible scars I had.

I approached cautiously, keeping my voice low. “First day out here?”

He looked up. Dark eyes met mine, sharp and calm, yet guarded. “I wouldn’t call it first. Just… my first real taste of freedom this year.”

“Community service,” I muttered, setting down my bucket. “Funny how the world outside the walls feels like a different prison.”

He smirked faintly. “Funny? Or predictable?”

I blinked. “Predictable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “You think stepping outside changes anything, but the world doesn’t care about the innocent. Not really. Only the clever. The ones who survive.”

His words cut through me. He knew my name. How? I wondered. But before I could ask, he added, “I know your kind. You survived inside walls that would’ve crushed most people. That tells me more than words ever could.”

I hesitated. “Survived… I guess. But surviving isn’t living, is it?”

He shook his head slowly. “Depends on your definition. Surviving can mean planning, observing, waiting for the right moment. It’s not living, maybe—but it’s necessary.”

We walked silently after that, carrying buckets, pruning hedges, hauling stones. The physical labor was exhausting, but the quiet presence beside me was… grounding. I found myself stealing glances at him. Strong. Reserved. Watching. And yet, I sensed the same kind of inner storm I carried, the same resentment, betrayal, and quiet rage.

Finally, he leaned against the fountain, his dark hair catching the sunlight. “I have a secret,” he said, his tone almost casual, though there was a weight in it.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’m wolfless,” he admitted.

The words struck me like lightning. I froze, the bucket in my hands trembling slightly. “You’re… what?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Wolfless. Like you. Not a drop of the power that should belong to me. But it’s complicated.” His gaze drifted to the fountain water. “My father… he always favored me. The youngest. The one no one expected to inherit anything. And yet, he promised me everything. His wealth, his empire, his legacy.”

I listened, intrigued despite the ache in my chest.

Kastiel ran a hand through his dark hair. “My older brother… he hated it. He resented me. So when the opportunity came, he framed me. A crime I didn’t commit. I went to jail. Forced to serve a sentence for someone else’s greed.”

I swallowed hard, trying to form words. The ache of recognition gnawed at my chest. “I… I know that feeling,” I whispered. “I was adopted into a family that despised me. They pretended to love me. My sister… My boyfriend… they conspired against me. Framed me for murder. Everyone I trusted… turned against me.”

Kastiel’s gaze softened. “I understand.”

A silence settled between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel completely alone. This man, a stranger, understood the sting of betrayal, the isolation, and the injustice that had consumed me.

I let the words spill out. “I walked into what I thought would be love. I believed I had a family. I trusted people who I thought were my own blood. And now… I don’t know what trust even means.”

He studied me for a long moment, the sunlight tracing the planes of his face. “Trust doesn’t come easy when you’ve been broken like that. But it can be rebuilt… carefully, piece by piece.”

I hesitated, then lowered my eyes. “Do you ever think about what comes next? After all this? When we’re free?”

He smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “I think about it every day. About proving them wrong. About reclaiming what was taken from us. But it’s not easy. Not with the world stacked against us. Not with their lies weighing down on every step we take.”

I nodded slowly. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I came home with hope, with dreams of love, and now…” My voice faltered. “…now, it’s just… pain. Betrayal. Anger. I don’t know if I’m still me.”

Kastiel’s voice was low, reassuring. “Pain doesn’t destroy you. Pain shapes you. And anger… anger is fuel. You survive this, Alina, not just by holding on, but by learning how to use it.”

I blinked back tears. His calm certainty was a balm I hadn’t realized I needed. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You already are,” he said. “You survived four years in a cage for a crime you didn’t commit. That takes more strength than most people will ever know. You think they could’ve broken you completely? Look at you.”

His words stung and healed at the same time. I laughed softly, bitterly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” he admitted. “But it’s true. You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. And you won’t be alone anymore. Not completely.”

I tilted my head, curious. “What do you mean?”

His eyes met mine, steady, unwavering. “We’ll survive this. Together, maybe. I’ve been alone my whole life, trapped, blamed, hunted… but maybe having someone to understand is enough to make a difference.”

I swallowed. Something inside me stirred—hope, something fragile but persistent. “I like the sound of that. Someone who understands. Finally.”

He nodded. “It’s rare. You know that, right? To find someone who truly sees you.”

“Yes.” My voice was a whisper. “Rare… but maybe not impossible.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “I like your fire, Alina. I’ve met too many who give up too soon. You? You don’t give up.”

I felt a spark in my chest, a small flicker of courage. “I don’t. And you…” I hesitated. “…you’re not giving up either.”

He allowed a faint smirk. “Never. Not on myself. Not on the people who deserve better. And maybe… not on the ones who’ve been wronged like us.”

I exhaled slowly, letting some tension leave my shoulders. “I don’t know why, but… talking to you… it feels like I can breathe again. Like maybe there’s someone who gets it. Who really does.”

He gave me a look that was almost tender, careful. “I get it. And I’ll be here. You’re not alone in this, Alina.”

I smiled faintly, the warmth touching my chest for the first time in years. “Then… I’ll see you again. We’ll meet again, Kastiel. I know it.”

His dark eyes met mine, unwavering. “I look forward to it.”

I turned back to my work, carrying the bucket, but something had shifted. The weight in my chest was lighter, the fire inside me brighter. I wasn’t powerless anymore, not completely. And with Kastiel, maybe, just maybe, we could face the storm that was coming.

Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel entirely alone.

That night, lying on the cot with the thin blanket twisted around me, I stared at the ceiling. Shadows danced and twisted like they had a life of their own. My hands ached to touch my hair, to feel normal again, to pretend the Thornbrooks hadn’t broken me. But somewhere deep inside, I felt a pulse, a heartbeat stronger than fear, stronger than despair.

It was small, barely a flicker. But it was mine.

I closed my eyes and whispered into the darkness, “I’ll survive. I will. And one day… Everyone who wronged me will pay.”

I didn’t know how. I didn’t know when. But the vow echoed in the shadows of my cell, stronger than any fear. And for the first time since the accident, I felt… powerful.