6. Pain

Chapter 6

The whip lay coiled on the stone bench beside Aron.

For a moment, no one moved.

The evening air felt colder than it should have been. The courtyard walls trapped the silence, pressing it down over all of us.

I wanted to scream. To tell them how unfair it all was. How none of it had ever been my fault.

Not my missing wolf. Not my missing parents. And certainly not this pendant.

I wanted to tell them that even now, after everything that had happened, there was still a chance to mend what they had broken. I would forgive it all. I loved this pack like a family.

I still do.

But this… this was a line they should never cross.

This was them rejecting me.

As a pack member. As a mate. As a person.

I wanted to cry. To beg. To make them see.

And maybe I should.

“Are you sure?” I asked, looking at my mate. “Is this your final word?”

I searched his eyes.

Waiting for even the smallest flicker of something.

Something worth fighting for.

Nothing.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t even meet my gaze.

He only nodded to the guards, giving them the signal to act.

And I knew.

There was nothing left to fight for.

No begging and no explanations would change a thing.

So instead of giving them the chance to drag me to the pillar, I walked there myself.

I wrapped my arms around the wooden post, silently refusing to be tied.

And waited.

The rough wood pressed against my chest. Against my heart. And my tattoo. 

It should have been a broken crown maybe, I thought bitterly.

Somewhere behind me the visiting Alpha shifted his weight.

Aron picked up the whip.

The last thread that still tied me to this place.

To him.

For a moment nothing happened.

The air behind me shifted. 

The whip cracked.

Pain exploded across my back, erasing every other feeling or thought.

For a second, the world narrowed to a single burning line across my skin.

I bit down hard.

No sound.

I would not give them that.

“Two.”

Someone behind me had started counting.

The second strike came before the word had fully faded.

Pain burned across my back, hotter now, sharper.

I tightened my grip around the post.

The wood was rough beneath my fingers.

Solid.

Real.

“Three.”

The whip cracked again.

My body jerked, but I held on.

The courtyard blurred.

Stone. Walls. Shadows.

“Four.”

I focused on breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

If I could breathe, I could endure.

“Five.”

The sound of the whip became louder than the pain.

Crack.

Then fire.

Crack.

Then fire.

“Six.”

Somewhere to my left, one of the warriors shifted.

Boots scraped softly against stone.

Still, no one spoke.

No one tried to stop it.

“Seven.”

The wood beneath my palms felt wet.

I didn’t want to think about why.

“Eight.”

The number sounded distant.

“Nine.”

My arms trembled around the post. The strength in my fingers was fading, slipping away little by little.

I tried to remember why I was still holding on.

“Ten.”

My thoughts drifted strangely.

To the training yard.

To the laughter that used to fill it.

To my father’s voice correcting my stance.

“Hold your ground.

Never yield.”

The counting went on.

Halfway.

I wasn’t sure if someone had said it out loud

or if my mind had simply guessed.

Their voices blurred around me.

The whip cracked again.

This time the pain sank deeper.

Not just into my skin.

Into something else.

Something fragile.

Something that had been breaking slowly for months.

“Twenty.”

The world tilted.

My breath came in shallow bursts now.

In.

Out.

In—

Another strike.

And suddenly the pain was no longer sharp.

It was distant.

Muted.

As if it belonged to another body.

“Twenty-five.” 

Only five more.

Five more pieces of something that had once been me.

My cheek rested against the rough wood.

The post smelled of dust and old rain.

I closed my eyes.

Not to escape.

Just to rest them for a moment.

“Twenty-six.”

Another strike.

Another burst of heat across my back.

But the anger I had carried for so long was gone.

So was the desperation.

So was the hope.

“Twenty-seven.”

I was aware I was there. 

I knew what was happening to me.

But it felt as if I were watching from afar.

“Twenty-eight.”

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing concerned me. 

“Twenty-nine.”

The whip rose again behind me.

For a heartbeat the courtyard was perfectly still.

The final strike fell.

“Thirty.”

My body started slipping down the pole. 

My hands couldn't hold me anymore.

I had taken it all. 

Tall.

Silently.

Proud.

But this final act of defiance had broken me beyond repair.

That broken thing was no longer me.

“Bring her to the healers,” Aron said.

The visiting Alpha stepped forward immediately.

“We agreed on thirty lashes and three days in prison.”

Aron didn’t even look at him.

“And you will have exactly that,” he replied calmly. “But she will not die in my courtyard.”

The other Alpha’s eyes narrowed.

“She is weak. A wolfless girl.” Aron answered coldly. “But she is also the key to this pack’s legitimacy. I will not risk losing that over pride.”

Their voices sounded distant to me.

Muted.

Like echoes drifting through water.

Hands lifted me from the ground.

The healers worked quickly. Cool cloth. Tight bandages. Bitter medicine forced between my lips.

Someone held a cup of water to my mouth.

I drank without thinking.

The taste was strange. Metallic.

I didn’t care.

The world blurred again.

When I opened my eyes next, I was lying on a narrow bed in a stone cell.

Someone had covered me with a rough blanket.

The door closed with a heavy sound.

And the darkness swallowed everything.