Chapter 4: Broken Skin

Helena;

Every inch of my body was on fire.

I lay curled on the cold, damp floor of the dungeon, naked and trembling uncontrollably. The silver chains had been removed, but their burn lingered like brands seared into my wrists. Lash after lash had torn open Azalea’s back and shoulders. Blood trickled slowly down my spine, each drop a fresh reminder of the hundred strikes Valdman had ordered. The pain was so overwhelming it knocked off my breath, turning every shallow inhale into an unsteady gasp.

Oh God… oh God, please… I can’t do this anymore.

Tears poured down my face, mixing with the dirt and blood on my cheeks. In my head, I was screaming, begging the universe, the truck that had killed me, anything that would listen. Take me back. Let me wake up in my apartment. I’ll delete the file. I’ll burn the laptop. I’ll make Valdman a good man, a gentle one, anything but this. I can’t stand it. This isn’t fiction anymore. This is real flesh tearing. Real pain. My body—Azalea’s body—shook uncontrollably, muscles seizing from shock and exhaustion.

Then something inside me roared.

A deep, feral sound echoed through my skull, raw and primal. It vibrated in my chest like thunder. I jerked hard, eyes wide with fresh terror. What the hell was that?

‘Who are you?’ A soft but furious voice demanded inside my head. Azalea. She sounded close, too close, like she was pressed right against my thoughts. ‘You carry a different scent. You are wolfless. What manner of creature are you that has stolen into my body?’

The pain made it hard to think straight. My back burned worse with every tiny movement. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the agony. ‘Not now,’ I begged her silently. ‘We’re hurt. We need to think of how to survive this—how to escape. Please.’

‘This is exactly the time,’ she shot back, her stubbornness flaring hot and bright. ‘Your presence is weakening me. My wolf—Aza—she cannot heal us properly because you are here, clouding everything. Tell me. What are you?’

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The absurdity of arguing with the character I had created while bleeding out on a dungeon floor. ‘I’m… your creator,’ I finally admitted, the words feeling ridiculous even in my head.

Azalea’s presence recoiled in shock and fury. ‘So you are the cruel Goddess who has brought this pain upon me? Upon my people?’

‘No! I’m not a Goddess,’ I stammered internally. I paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t make everything worse. How did you explain to an 18-year-old sheltered werewolf princess that you were a 23-year-old human author from another world who had typed her entire suffering into existence? ‘I’m… human. From another place. Another world.’

‘Human?’ Confusion flooded through our shared mind. ‘What is a human?’

Before I could even attempt an answer, the heavy dungeon gate creaked open. Three guards stepped inside, carrying a tray of bread, meat, and water. They dropped it carelessly at my feet like I was no better than a stray dog. The smell of food made my empty stomach clench, but the humiliation seared hotter than the lashes.

“Eat, princess,” one of them sneered.

I reached for the tray with shaking hands, desperate for any strength. But Azalea surged forward, yanking control back. ‘I will not eat the food of that monster.’

‘We need it to survive,’ I argued desperately. ‘To heal. Please, Azalea—’

The leader of the three, a burly man with dirty brown teeth and a pockmarked, ugly face, squatted down in front of me. His smile widened, revealing rot. “Princess,” he drawled, reaching out to stroke my matted golden hair.

I flinched, pressing my back against the wall. Pain detonated across my torn skin, but I didn’t care. Anything to get away from his touch.

He snarled. “Why do you run, little one?” He crawled closer, his breath foul. “Just a little pleasure to warm you up. You’ll like it.”

His dirty, ragged fingers brushed my collarbone. I slapped his hand away with all the strength I could muster.

His laughter came out loud and ugly, then he glanced at the other two men. With a casual tilt of his head, he ordered, “Hold her down.”

They grabbed me instantly. Rough hands pinned my arms and shoulders to the floor. I screamed, thrashing wildly, tears streaming. “No! Please—don’t. Stop, please!”

The filthy man yanked my legs apart, forcing himself between them. His weight crushed down on me. I felt the hot, disgusting press of his cock against my inner thigh as he fumbled with his trousers. One of the others clamped a filthy hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. Terror unlike anything I had ever written flooded every cell of my body. This wasn’t a scene on a page. This was happening to me.

“Get off me,” I cried, but they laughed.

Suddenly, a savage growl ripped through the dungeon.

Steel sang. Bodies jerked with sickening sounds of flesh tearing, filling the air. Blood sprayed across my bare skin, hot and sticky. In seconds, the three guards were nothing but pieces. Their limbs scattered, heads severed, blood pooling on the stone.

I looked up, trembling so hard my teeth chattered.

Valdman stood there, sword dripping crimson, his green eyes locked on me with the same pure hatred I had seen when he beheaded my father. No mercy. No softness. Just cold, ancient rage.

He sheathed his blade and stormed out without a word.

Another man; tall, handsome, with a calmer presence, stepped forward. He squatted slowly in front of me, keeping his movements gentle. “Relax, princess,” he said softly. It was the kindest voice I had heard since this nightmare began. “It’s over now.”

I sat up with difficulty, hugging my knees tightly to my chest, trying to cover my nakedness. Fresh tears fell. The man pulled a simple but clean dress from a bundle and held it out to me.

“A princess should not go about naked,” he said.

He turned slightly to give me privacy while I struggled into the garment, wincing with every movement.

Once I was covered, he adjusted the tray of food closer. “Thank the Gods the blood did not stain the meal. Eat. There is a long journey ahead of us.”

He straightened up and left the cell, the gate rattling closed behind him.

The moment we were alone again, the dam broke. Both Azalea and I cried hard, wracking sobs that shook our shared body. Her fear, her grief for her pack, her fury at me. My guilt, my terror, my desperate wish to undo every word I had ever written. The emotions crashed together until I couldn’t tell where hers ended and mine began. We held ourselves tightly, rocking on the cold floor, the taste of blood and salt lingered on our tongue.

I had created this.

And now we were both trapped inside it.