Trapped In A Cruel World

Chapter 2

Trapped In A Cruel World

Adolfa POV

A dull ache radiated through my body, each breath a laborious effort as I struggled to open my eyes. My limbs felt heavy, as if they had been encased in stone. The sharp scent of damp earth and stale air filled my nostrils, making me realize I was no longer in my cell. A dim, orange glow filtered through the thin, tattered curtain in front of me, casting eerie patterns on the rough stone walls. Morning had come, but its warmth did nothing to ease my suffering.

I gasped, forcing myself to sit up, wincing at the pain that laced through my body. My neck ached, my arms felt weak, and my legs, when I tried to move them, gave way beneath me. I collapsed to the ground, my palms slamming against the cold, hard floor. The impact sent a jolt up my spine, but I bit down on my lip, refusing to cry out.

Through the dim light, I could make out a metal cup sitting on the floor next to my cot. My throat burned with thirst, and I reached for it with trembling hands, greedily bringing the liquid to my lips. It was vodka. Strong, stinging, burning as it slid down my throat, but I was too parched to care.

The clinking of chains outside the small prison hut made my breath hitch. Before I could react, the wooden door banged open with a thud. The morning air was cool against my bruised skin as I shrank back into the shadows, pressing myself against the rough wall.

Alpha Lyran entered, his piercing golden eyes sweeping over me like a predator sizing up his prey. Behind him, a few guards lingered at the entrance, their expressions unreadable, their presence suffocating. I tried to push myself up, but my limbs protested with each movement, the bruises on my body flaring with pain.

"Who let her out?" Lyran's voice boomed, echoing off the walls. His rage was barely contained, his claws twitching at his sides.

Mavi, my step-sister, was standing just outside the door, looking at me with a cruel smirk. Her arms were crossed as she leaned against the wooden frame, completely at ease with my suffering. "I found her trying to escape, Alpha," she said smoothly, her voice honeyed with malice.

Lyran's sharp, ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, a storm brewing in their depths. "You think you can escape your punishment, Adolfa?"

My lips were dry, cracked, as I struggled to form words. "I... I wasn't trying to escape."

Lyran stepped closer, his heavy boots sending vibrations through the floor. He knelt before me, gripping my chin roughly and tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

"You belong to me now," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "You will learn obedience, whether you like it or not."

I glared at him, defiance flickering in my eyes, but he only chuckled darkly before motioning to his guards.

"Take her back," he ordered, his voice sharp as a blade.

The guards grabbed my arms, hauling me up, ignoring the way I winced. One of them threw a crumpled prisoner’s uniform at me, the rough fabric scratching against my already tender skin.

All around me, other prisoners were dressed similarly, clothed in simple grey uniforms that barely covered their bodies. The werewolves were kept separate from the Weraravens and the Lycans, but even so, I could feel the tension thick in the air. The Weraravens and Lycans were notorious for their cruelty. Most packs despised them, and for good reason.

I followed the guards reluctantly, passing through the prison corridors. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies, damp earth, and something more bitter—the scent of suffering. The whispers of the other prisoners barely reached my ears, but I could sense their disdain, their judgment, their fear. I was one of them now. Marked. A prisoner in my own land.

I was led into a room where a set of orange uniforms was thrown at me. I fumbled with the fabric before slipping it over my battered body. The material was scratchy against my bruised skin, a constant reminder of my humiliation and defeat. My stomach twisted, and nausea rolled through me as I fought against the helplessness threatening to overtake my resolve.

The scent of alcohol hit my nose once again. My gaze flickered to another glass of vodka placed before me. My throat was dry, my body aching for relief. Against my better judgment, I lifted the glass and drank deeply, the fiery liquid a momentary escape from the raw reality I was forced to endure.

Time felt sluggish. Minutes bled into hours, days bled into nights. My body healed, but my soul carried wounds much deeper. I was moved again, this time to a prison school within the higher districts of the wolf pack—a mockery of what a school was supposed to be. Here, the lines between discipline and cruelty blurred beyond recognition. Students shuffled about in identical uniforms: the wolves clad in brown short-sleeved button-ups and yellow pants, while the Weraravens and Werefoxes were given separate attire to mark their rank. Their status as outcasts in the pecking order was evident in the sneers and dismissive looks from the higher-ranked wolves.

As I walked towards the registration hall, my back still ached from the wounds that had barely begun to heal. The Lycan in charge of attendance eyed me up and down, his intense stare sending a shiver down my spine.

“Name and year,” he barked, tapping a clipboard with his fingers.

I hesitated only briefly before bowing my head in submission. “Adolfa. Third year.”

A cruel smirk played on his lips. He seemed to revel in the brief moment where I hesitated, as if waiting for an excuse to punish me. Then, without warning, he reached forward and seized my wrist, pulling me toward him roughly.

“You’re late,” he growled. His fingers dug into my skin, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from wincing.

“I—I fell,” I murmured, avoiding his sharp gaze.

He studied me for a long moment before shoving a worn-out book into my hands. "Next time, be on time or suffer the consequences."

I lowered my head as a sign of submission, then quickly stepped past him and hurried towards the school building. As I walked, whispers followed in my wake. The stares of my fellow students felt like daggers piercing my skin. Some of them looked at me with pity, others with disdain, but most of them seemed to revel in my humiliation.

With every step I took, my body protested. My back throbbed, and a sharp pain radiated through my limbs with each movement. The uniform I had been given barely covered anything, and the chill in the air sent shivers down my spine. I clenched my fists, swallowing my pride and the lump forming in my throat. I couldn't let them see my pain. That would be a victory for them.

Just as I reached the main hallway, a tall, muscular figure suddenly appeared before me. The scent of woodsmoke and leather flooded my senses, causing me to freeze in place. Alpha Lyran. His golden eyes bore into mine, gleaming with something between amusement and menace.

"Where do you think you're going, Adolfa?" His voice was deep, authoritative.

I bowed my head. "To the prison school, Alpha."

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "I see you're finally learning some obedience. A welcome change."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept my eyes down. "Yes, Alpha."

He stepped closer, his fingers grazing over my shoulder. I fought the urge to flinch as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his predatory gaze.

"Try to run again, and there won’t be any more second chances." His fingers brushed over the injury on my collarbone, pressing just hard enough to make me wince.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to show pain. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Alpha Lyran scoffed. "You're still as defiant as ever, Adolfa. I do enjoy breaking stubborn things."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and walked off, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor. Mavi watched the exchange with a smirk, clearly enjoying my humiliation.

I clenched my fists. If I wanted to survive, I had to be smart. I had to be patient. Because one day, my time would come.