Chapter Twelve

CYRUS

Cyrus toed the hard packed dirt of the Ashland Pack ceremonial grounds. The morning sun was a spear of light in the sky, The pin prick of light was doing little to nothing to warm the chilled masses that had gathered for the girl's punishment.

No, not the girl. Holly.

He'd learnt her name from one of the passing omegas last night after he had stormed out of the dungeon in a huff. Not that he'd admit to his brothers that he'd been acting huffily. Even when they called him on it.

He didn't know what but something about that girl ruffled all of his feathers.

And now here he was watching her corporal punishment. He should be enthused but he felt nothing but dread. He didn't actually want her to be hurt. This was just the only way he could think to keep her from getting killed

If he'd been given a week he surely could have come up with something better but on the spot this was the best he could do. Four lashings. She'd survive. But she'd hate them for it.

Nevertheless, as long as she was alive he had a chance to change her mind about them. To get her to their side.

Jeering sounded from the other side of the ring of spectators and his wolf perked up. Here she came now. His brothers had elected not to attend this display. Sorin was still furious at the fact she was being whipped and Lucas claimed he was too busy spending time with some of the local girls, though Cyrus suspected that in reality he was just feeling a mite too delicate to watch.

Cyrus didn't want to see either. But he owed it to her. She deserved one friendly face in the crowd, whether she knew it as such or not.

The jeering grew louder as she got closer. Soon he was able to see her, shadowed by two huge guards, locked up and chained like a prisoner of the worst kind.

Cyrus had been to many such punishments before. The fanfare always struck him as distasteful. Just another thing to change when he was King he supposed.

The Ashland Pack seemed to thrive off of the pageantry. Maybe to hide the fact they had such weak alpha. Or maybe there just wasn't much to look forward to out here.

The girl, Holly, knelt beneath her alpha's fist demurely, like she didn't have a care in the world. Impressive. Cyrus got the feeling that she'd been here before.

When the alpha stepped forward and roughly tore open her shirt to reveal her back Cyrus's feeling was given evidence.

All over her creamy back were the old scars of lashings past.

Cyrus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He really hoped he could find a way to convince her to forgive them for this. She must understand he had to do this to save her life.

The Ashland Alpha was prattling on, something about personal integrity or other such nonsense. Holly shuffled where she knelt on the ground, her chains clanked noisily. The alpha glanced at her, imperious and gloating.

“Shall we get on with this?” Cyrus said, trying to mask the nerves in his voice as impatience to see the show. He must have done a good enough job based on the acrid glance Holly shot him.

He wished he could take her aside and explain to her that this was for her benefit. That he wasn't the monster. But maybe he was. He was planning on using her for his own gains afterall.

Alpha Roy looked like he wanted to argue but didn't dare. Not after his scoffing comments last night. And especially not now that the King was here, sober and alert. Instead, he handed the whip to a young man, about Holly's age who looked far too excited to be doing this. He must be the Alpha's son.

“Four lashes for the four lives endangered by her stupidity.” Alpha Roy announced imperiously and stepped back. Cyrus tensed as he waited for the torture to begin. Because that was what this was. Pack sanctioned torture. It was despicable. In the eyes of the pack all she had done was mix up some plants, a stupid mistake, and yet they were willing to whip her for that. Their friend and neighbor.

Cyrus looked around. Maybe not their friend. He didn't see a single face in the crowd who looked like they were there to show their support. Strange.

The crack of the whip brought him back from his musings. It sliced open her skin in a long stripe of red but she didn't call out. She stayed silent through the next three lashings. Impressively so, but Cyrus could tell it was wearing on her. Her body was shaking and sweat beaded her brow. Her back was bloodied and slick. At least it was finished now.

The Alpha's son didn't get the memo. He whipped her again. And again. Finally she cried out when the lash landed right on top of another mark. By the tenth lash she'd fallen from her prim kneel to her hands and knees. This was ludicrous. What happened to fairness? Everyone in the crowd looked on, like they were enjoying it.

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something, anything, to stop this but she beat him to it.

“St…STOP IT” she screamed. The entire crowd seemed to freeze. The Alpha's son dropped the whip and even the King froze where he was sipping his tea. Cyrus felt like he couldn't move. Like he was frozen. And then she fell to the ground in a dead faint and the feeling was gone.

Strange. If Cyrus didn't know any better he'd think that was an alpha command. But no one could Alpha command the King. Not even he was powerful enough for that.