Chapter Seven

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Isolde's POV

Ryder returned to me—sometimes slipping into the room in the dead of night, other times appearing at the first gray light of dawn.

There was never tenderness in his touch. No lingering kisses, no whispered words of comfort. He took me like I was nothing more than a vessel for his grief and fury—an object crafted solely for his rage and release.

One night, he dragged me onto the bed and made me straddle him while he lounged back against the pillows, hands lazily laced behind his head. The dim lantern light cast harsh shadows across his sharp features as he watched me with that chilling, detached amusement. My thighs—already bruised and trembling—burned with exhaustion as I moved.

“Faster,” he ordered, voice low and mocking. “Show me how badly you want to earn your next meal, little mate.”

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sweat that clung to my skin. My raw, aching core protested with every desperate drop of my hips. The pain was sharp. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, but I obeyed. When he finally finished, he pushed me off him like I was nothing. I collapsed onto the thin mattress, curling into myself as harsh sobs wracked my body. He dressed in silence and left without a backward glance, the heavy door slamming shut behind him like the final nail in a coffin.

Another time, he bent me over the heavy oak table in the corner of the room. My cheek pressed painfully against the cold, unyielding wood as he took me from behind with brutal force. Each thrust jolted through my frail body. I felt something tear inside me, a warm trickle of blood sliding down my thigh. When he was done, he spilled across my back, marking me like an animal. Then he gripped my hair, yanking my head back so I had to look at him.

“Thank me,” he growled.

My voice was barely a whisper, cracked and defeated. “Thank you… for the honor of your seed.”

He released me with a satisfied grunt and walked away, leaving me trembling on the table.

I stopped fighting long ago. I stopped begging. All that remained was the desperate, animal need to survive another hour, another day. Resistance only made the pain worse.

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My body was failing me. Each day brought a new level of weakness. They fed me once every twenty-four hours—if it could even be called feeding. A small plate of cold leftovers, stale bread, or watery broth shoved through the door. Never enough to quiet the constant, gnawing hunger that twisted my stomach into knots. Simple movements left me dizzy, the room spinning as black spots danced across my vision. My hands shook when I tried to lift the cup of water they occasionally allowed me.

My once-soft, healthy curves had wasted away. My ribs protruded sharply beneath my skin. My collarbones stood out. My cheeks were hollow, my eyes sunken and shadowed with dark circles.

The girl who had once looked in the mirror with quiet hope was gone. In her place was a ghost—gaunt, fragile, and fading.

I dared not complain. I dared not argue or plead for mercy. The few times I had tried in the beginning, Ryder’s punishment had been swift and devastating. So I learned to bite my tongue until it bled. I learned to swallow my tears and bury my screams deep inside my chest. I endured. That was all I had left.

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On the seventh night of my torment, the heavy door to Ryder’s chambers creaked open.

I was curled on the thin, threadbare blanket he allowed me on the floor, wearing nothing but one of his oversized shirts that now hung loosely off my bony shoulders. Fresh bite marks throbbed on my neck and inner thighs. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints bloomed across my pale skin. My lips were cracked and dry from dehydration.

I looked—and felt—like a corpse barely clinging to life.

Aunt Linda stepped inside.

The moment her eyes found me in the dim light, her face crumpled with horror and grief.

“Isolde…” Her voice broke on my name, raw with emotion.

She rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside me. Her warm, familiar arms pulled my frail, trembling body against her chest. The scent of her—lavender soap—wrapped around me like a long-forgotten dream.

For the first time since the nightmare of the wedding began, the dam inside me shattered completely.

I sobbed violently into her soft blouse, my entire weak frame shaking uncontrollably. Harsh, ugly cries tore from my throat as I clung to her like a child lost in the dark. My fingers twisted desperately into the fabric of her dress, afraid she might vanish if I let go. Months of suppressed grief, guilt, shame, and unbearable pain flooded out of me all at once.

“Aunt Linda…” I gasped between wrenching sobs. “I didn’t kill her. I swear on the Moon Goddess, I didn’t. It was that witch—she tricked me. I didn’t know what she was planning. I would never… Isla… I loved her…”

My voice cracked and failed. The words wouldn’t come properly. My chest felt too tight, like it might collapse under the weight of everything I had carried alone.

Aunt Linda rocked me gently, stroking my matted, tangled hair with trembling hands. Her own tears fell hot onto my shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve always known you could never hurt your sister. Not in a thousand lifetimes. But the pack… Ryder… grief has blinded them all. They won’t listen to reason.”

She pulled back just enough to cup my sunken cheeks in her palms, her thumbs gently wiping away the endless stream of my tears.

Her eyes widened with fresh horror as she truly took me in—the fingerprint bruises, the raw bite marks, the way my body had been reduced to skin and bones.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” she whispered, voice thick with a mixture of fury and devastating sorrow. “He’s killing you slowly. That boy is drowning in his own grief, but this… this is monstrous. Unforgivable.”

I shook my head weakly, the movement making the room tilt. “I deserve it. I took her place. I should have been the one who—”

“No.” Aunt Linda’s eyes filled with fresh tears, but her jaw tightened with fierce determination. She gripped my shoulders—gently, mindful of my bruises. “You do not deserve this. No one does. Look at you. You’re skin and bones. He’s breaking you apart piece by piece, night after night. Staying here is a slow, painful death.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper as she outlined her plan. She had mapped out a route through the forest, timed the patrol shifts, prepared supplies hidden just beyond the border. We could slip into the human territories under the cover of darkness. Start over. A quiet life far from pack politics, far from wolves and their brutal customs.

“Imagine it, Isolde,” she said softly, her eyes shining with desperate hope. “Waking up without new bruises. Eating full meals until your belly is warm and satisfied. Walking without fear. Sleeping without wondering when he’ll come for you again. And eventually… Ryder will be forced to move on. His obsession lives because you’re here, trapped under his thumb. If you disappear, the pack elders will pressure him to take a chosen mate. He’ll forget about you in time.”

The vision she painted was so beautiful it made my chest ache with longing. Freedom. Safety. Full meals. Warmth. The chance to heal both my body and whatever was left of my soul.

But terror still gripped me harder than hope.

Ryder’s rage if he caught us… it would be unimaginable. He would make my current suffering look like mercy.

Still… Aunt Linda was the only person who had never chosen Isla over me. The only family who had truly seen *me*. When she said she had a plan then she really did.

It was worth a shot.

I swallowed hard, my throat raw. My voice came out barely audible, little more than a breath.

“…Okay. Tonight.”

Relief washed over Aunt Linda’s face. She pulled me into another tight, careful embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ll come for you tomorrow afternoon,” she promised. “Be ready. We’re getting you out of this hell, my darling girl.”

As she slipped quietly out of the room, I curled back onto my thin blanket, heart hammering with equal parts bone-deep terror and the smallest, most fragile spark of hope I had felt in months.

If we failed, Ryder’s punishment would destroy what little was left of me.

But if we succeeded…

I might finally be free.