Chapter3-Whip Marks and Old Ties

Aurora’s POV

After the trial, I thought the worst was over. I was wrong.

Damian made sure my punishment didn’t end with a sentence. He bribed the guards and the other inmates to torment me, starving me, beating me, forcing me to kneel until my knees bled. 

Every strike stripped away a piece of my wolf, every insult carved deeper into what was left of me. When the poison’s side effects didn’t kill me fast enough, Damian found a new way to destroy me. 

He called it mercy when he ordered them to send me to a mental hospital. But I knew the truth, he just wanted to watch me break slower.

In this hellish situation, five years flew by in the blink of an eye. 

Every now and then, I’d hear through the grapevine that Helen and James were living the perfect life. 

James had become a hotshot lawyer,all thanks to the Vicky poisoning case. Helen?

She was still her mom’s spoiled little princess. 

But me?

My mom had begged me, tears streaming down her face, to take the fall for Helen. 

Every promise she made? 

Total empty words. 

They’d long since forgotten I even existed—forget about helping me, they never even came to visit once. 

For five years, the only thing that kept me going was the fire of revenge in my chest. 

I’d never bow down, not even if it meant breaking my knees. 

I was going to come back. And when I did? 

Everyone who’d ever wronged me would pay the price—dearly.

……

One afternoon, the air hung heavy with heat. The nurses herded us outside for collective labor. They called it therapy, but we all knew it was just forced work.

I sat among the other patients in the large workshop, stitching clothes for the factory. The smell of fabric dust filled the air. The clicking of sewing machines mixed with the dull groans of tired patients.

My hands moved slowly, stiff from old bruises. I tried to keep my seams straight, tried not to draw attention. A nurse leaned down and asked quietly if I needed more thread. I nodded and answered “Yes”softly. 

That was all it took.

The witch appeared. Her shadow stretched over me, thin whip coiled in her hand. The whip she used whenever she wanted to remind us who had power.

Her voice was sharp. “Why are you distracting the nurse? Do you think you’re special?”

I shook my head quickly. “I was only answering her question.”

She didn’t care. The whip cracked through the air and slashed across my shoulder. Pain burned deep, cutting through the thin cloth of my shirt.

I bit my lip to stop the cry.

Another strike followed. My hands trembled, but I forced my eyes to stay down. I had endured worse.

I wished I could disappear, vanish into the noise of sewing machines. But when I lifted my head slightly, my breath froze.

Across the yard, beyond the fence, stood Alpha Keith.

The Alpha of the Silver Moon Wolf Clan. My older brother.

The sun caught in his dark hair. His presence carried weight even from far away. For a heartbeat I thought I was imagining him. My chest tightened. Was he really here?

The whip struck again. White pain shot through me. My body, already weak from hunger and exhaustion, couldn’t hold me upright anymore. The ground tilted, my vision blurred, and my knees buckled. I collapsed and drifted into darkness.

When I woke, I was in a room again. My head throbbed, my limbs heavy, but I was alive. The nurse and doctor stood beside the bed.

“You can end your treatment early,” the doctor said briskly, like he was crossing a task off a list. “You will be discharged today. Alpha Keith will be here to pick you up.”

The nurse set a small bag on the bed. “Pack your things. You leave today.”

I nodded. My hands moved slowly as I folded the few belongings I owned. Small things, but they were mine.

When I stepped out of the psychiatric hospital, sunlight hit my face. And there he was.

Alpha Keith stood by a black car. His expression was unreadable, until his eyes landed on me. Then they softened slightly. He stepped forward.

“Hello, Aurora,” he said quietly. "How have you been these past five years? I’ve come to take you home."

I didn’t bother answering him—just stared at him coldly. He felt awkward, so he took the initiative to talk to me again.

His gaze lingered on the bruise along my cheek. “Your face… what happened to you?”

For a moment, words caught in my throat. I wanted to scream that I had been beaten, whipped, broken. That no one had protected me. Instead, I straightened my back, my voice cold. “It is nothing, Alpha Keith.”

His brows furrowed. I saw a flicker of conflict in his eyes, but he didn’t press. He only said, steady and firm, “You’re coming home.”

I forced a polite smile, though my chest ached. “Thank you, Alpha Keith.”

The words tasted empty.

A memory rose, uninvited.

I was fifteen again, standing outside his door in the pouring rain, holding a container of food I had carried across the pack grounds. My shoes were soaked, my hair plastered to my skin, but I smiled when he opened the door. I had hoped he would see my effort, see me. Instead, he took the food without a word and shut the door.

I had kept trying, again and again, desperate for him to look at me like a sister.

Back in the present, I climbed into Alpha Keith’s car. As the engine started, I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching the hospital shrink behind us.

The silence was thick, pressing on my chest. Finally Alpha Keith cleared his throat. “Everyone is waiting for you. They want you back.”

I turned slightly, my voice flat. “Everyone?”

“Yes,” he said. His tone almost sounded careful. “Mother, Father… even Helen.”

The name twisted inside me. I turned back to the window. My voice caught, but I forced it out. “Their waiting means nothing to me.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

After a moment, he reached into the console and pulled out a bottle. The drink I used to love when I was younger. He held it toward me. “Here. I thought you might want this.”

I stared at it. The gesture might have meant something years ago, before the betrayals, before the silence. Now, it was hollow.

I shook my head. “No, thank you, Alpha Keith.”

His hand lowered, confusion flickering across his face. He looked at me as if trying to find the sister he once knew, but she wasn’t there anymore. Inside, I denied him as my brother. That bond was gone.

When we reached the Packhouse, I stepped out of the car and looked at the building I once called home. It looked the same. But I wasn’t the same girl who had left five years ago.

Alpha Keith walked beside me. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Our parents… they have grown frail from missing you.”

I stopped and turned to him. My voice was calm, but sharp. “They have not visited me once in five years.”

The words fell between us like stone.

His face shifted. His lips parted as he scrambled for words. “They were… busy with pack duties.”

I shook my head. The excuse was weak, and he knew it. They had chosen not to see me.

Memories pressed in on me. Forcing myself to study dance. the one subject I hated because Father demanded it. My legs ached, my spirit resisted, but I obeyed, hoping it would make him proud.

Every Christmas, I wrote down small wishes. Simple things. Every year they went unanswered. Helen’s wishes, meanwhile, glittered under the tree.

I had grown used to their favoritism.

Alpha Keith’s gaze flicked toward me. My silence seemed to push him to the edge. His patience broke.

“You’re too quiet,” he snapped. “Always silent, always withdrawn. You should learn from Helen. She is lively. She brings warmth. You…” His voice faltered. “You are not like her.”

The words landed heavier than the whip had.

I kept my expression calm, but inside my chest burned.

With irritation clear in his movements, Alpha Keith turned and strode into the house. “Follow me.”