CHAPTER 2: Part 02

Kael straddled my hips, not touching me yet, just looming over me. His bare chest gleamed in the firelight, the scar across his ribs cutting a brutal path through the muscle. His pants were still undone. I could see the thick weight of him, hard again already.

"You're quick," I whispered, the words escaping before I could bite them back.

His eyes narrowed.

"You'll learn not to speak unless I tell you to."

I opened my mouth to respond—but his hand was at my throat instantly, not choking, just resting there. Possessive. Warning.

"I said lie still."

I stared up at him, silent, burning.

He leaned down until his mouth hovered above mine.

"Say it," he whispered.

"Say what?"

"That you're mine."

I swallowed. My lips trembled.

"No."

His palm slid lower—across my collarbone, between my breasts, down my stomach. Then his fingers slipped between my legs again, rough and slow.

I gasped.

"You're wet," he murmured, voice like velvet-wrapped knives. "That's shameful."

I turned my face away.

He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him.

"Say it, Aria."

"No—"

Two fingers slid inside me, deep and sudden. I cried out, hips jerking against his hand.

"You want me to stop?"

I did.

I didn't.

I hated this.

I hated that my body was turning against me.

"Say it," he growled.

"I—" My voice cracked.

His fingers curled inside me, expertly, cruelly, pulling heat from places I didn't want to feel.

"I'm yours," I whispered.

"Louder."

"I'm yours," I gasped.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, glistening. Then brought them to my lips.

"Open."

I shook my head.

He didn't ask again.

He slid them between my lips, and I tasted myself. My humiliation. My betrayal.

He leaned down, mouth brushing my ear.

"You'll remember this every time you open your mouth."

His fingers left my lips.

I hated him.

I hated myself more.

I wanted to scream, to fight, to cry — but all I could do was breathe.

And burn.

He took me again.

Harder.

Deeper.

More brutal than before.

And this time, he made me say it over and over between every thrust.

"I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

Until I didn't know if I was lying anymore.

He didn't stop.

Even after the words spilled from my mouth like blood, even after my body trembled from the shame of it all—he kept going.

Every thrust was punishment. A reminder.

This is what you are now.

Not a daughter. Not a bride.

Just a body.

Just his.

Kael gripped my hips and pulled me tighter against him, his rhythm brutal, fast, relentless. I felt the stretch, the sting, the bruising heat. My head lolled to the side, staring at nothing.

The ceiling above me was carved stone. I counted the cracks to stay sane.

But something else started moving inside me.

Not a thought. Not a feeling.

A presence.

It wasn't loud. It didn't roar. It didn't claw.

It just watched.

From the deepest part of me—far beneath bone and flesh—a quiet, sleeping creature stirred.

My wolf.

I hadn't heard her before. Not once.

Some girls met their wolves in childhood. Some during their first blood. I had waited, year after year, hoping. Dreading. Wondering what kind of creature lived beneath my skin.

And now, as I was being claimed like a trophy—violated, stripped, used—she chose to open her eyes.

She didn't rage.

She didn't speak.

But she saw him.

She felt him.

And she remembered.

My eyes stayed on the ceiling. My body stayed beneath him. But inside, I was no longer alone.

There was a second heartbeat now.

His pace grew faster.

His breathing roughened.

I didn't flinch anymore. I didn't moan. I didn't beg.

I just lay there, numb and silent, while my wolf watched through me—quiet, waiting.

When he came, it wasn't with a groan or a kiss or any kind of softness.

He cursed under his breath, pushed deep one last time, and spilled himself inside me with a low grunt like satisfaction.

Then silence.

Nothing moved.

Not even him.

I could feel the sweat cooling on my skin.

I could feel the ache spreading through my thighs, my ribs, my spine.

And I could feel the eyes inside me — my wolf, unblinking.

She didn't weep.

She waited.

He pulled out of me without a sound.

No softness in his hands. No glance at my face. No acknowledgment that I had been a person beneath him — just a body cooling under his weight.

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

My legs were still parted, trembling. My arms limp above my head. The blood had already begun to dry along the inside of my thigh. His release was still leaking out of me, hot and shameful.

Kael stood, stretching his neck as if he'd just finished a workout, not a violation. He picked up his shirt, pulled it over his head. Buckled his belt.

Still no words.

Still no look back.

I heard the soft jingle of a silver pendant as he fastened something at his wrist — a band engraved with runes I couldn't read. He wore it like armor. Like memory.

Then he turned toward the door.

"You'll sleep here," he said, finally.

His voice wasn't cruel now.

It was indifferent.

As if what had just happened was routine.

As if I hadn't bled for him.

As if I hadn't broken.

The door opened with a slow creak. Cold air poured in.

He paused once — hand on the frame — but didn't glance back.

Didn't offer a blanket.

Didn't offer a name.

Didn't even say goodnight.

And then he was gone.

The door shut behind him with a soft click that somehow hurt worse than the sound of his belt hitting the floor.

Silence returned.

Heavy. Total.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my legs slowly curling toward my chest. The sheets beneath me were stained — red and slick and warm. I wanted to move. To clean myself. To cry.

But I didn't.

I let the shame soak into the bed like rot.

Because what was the point?

My father had sold me.

My husband had destroyed me.

My pack had forgotten me.

And now… I had nothing left but the strange, silent creature watching from inside me.

My wolf didn't speak.

She just waited.

And I began to understand why.