CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

ROWAN

By​‍​‌‍​‍‌ the time I got back to my dorm, I could barely move. My lungs could have been poked with a thousand needles and I still would've been able to cry I kept on mumbling to myself, “Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,” as if somebody was there to hear it when actually there was nobody in the hallway and no one had seen me. I closed the door behind me, and taking a deep breath, I whispered, “I should’ve gone home... I should’ve just left this academy.”

I didn't go to a single class, no one really cared. If a Beta was seen bloody through his shirt and no one asked if he was okay, then the crown might as well be invisible. I bet they would say something like, "Discipline builds character," and that they didn't see it.

I was half undressing my uniform, each time I touched the flesh I had reddened by the lashes, and spit out “shit—oh gods—fuck that Alpha” right before I threw the shirt on the floor somewhere. I found the little ointment tube that was under my bed and with my lidless eyes I removed the cap, looking very nervous I said to myself, “This better help,” even if it hardly ever did.

I put it on the area very gently, biting my own hand to keep the noise that I wanted to make from escaping my mouth. “You’re fine,” I whispered, “you’re fine, you’ve survived worse, this is nothing” but it was something, not today. Everything was off today.

I​‍​‌‍​‍‌ lay on my bed, eyes wide open, and I kept staring at the ceiling. I was hoping sleep to come but it never came, and this was not the first time. My mind kept the horror flashing repeatedly in front of it; the scary room, the dragging chains, and the voice that was saying things I didn’t want to remember.

It changed.

It was the time that I thought about him.

Dante Varyn.

The angry, rude, cold, emotionless king. The one all the kingdom gossiped about. The one that would probably murder you if you breathed too loud in his direction. The one whose shirt I had accidentally drenched. The one who had looked at me as if I was dirt under his boots.

“If he comes here, then what?” I asked the ceiling, turning my face to the side. “If he finds me, then what? If he came to decide that I’m the one to be punished, then what?”

Everyone was sure that of the three, Dante was the worst.

Kade was quiet.

Lucien was crazy.

But what about Dante? A storm disguised as a man was what Dante was, and when he broke, there was no one to be found.

“I’m so done for,” I said to my pillow. “Completely and totally done for.”

At the end, the overpowering force of sleep won, it didn’t matter that I resisted. Sleep was always the last thing I wanted, for it to be a nightmare as it always was. Sleep meant that you have to remember.

This time, it didn’t take too long.

I was in that room with no light again, I was falling over, gasping for air, and trying to push the walls that I couldn’t see. A voice was whispering, “Come here, asset…come here…” and another hand grabbed my neck and someone else said, “Hold him still,” and I told them to stop and scream for help, I begged that they let me go and, that they leave me alone—

I woke up from that nightmare at 5 p.m. sweating and shaking. I could hardly breathe. For a second, I believed that the room was still dark, someone was still holding me, and I was still chained. I went into a panic and tried to get away with my legs until I bumped into the ​‍​‌‍​‍‌headboard.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” I gasped, clutching at my chest. “It’s not real. It’s not real. Wake up—wake up, Rowan, wake up.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the tears dripping onto my hands—hot, relentless, the kind I didn’t let myself shed. But something inside me broke open, and I curled against the wall, whispering, “Stop it, please stop it,” but the sobs kept coming anyway.

After a few minutes, I forced myself up and stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. My reflection looked pathetic—red eyes, wet cheeks, hair a mess, back shaking from each breath.

“You look insane,” I muttered. “Congratulations.”

And then my stomach growled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I sighed. “Right. Groceries.”

I changed into the only clean shirt I had left, still wincing at the pain in my back, and grabbed my keys. I stepped into the hallway, ready to sprint to the convenience store, grab whatever snacks I could afford, and come back before my brain had time to think too much.

But I didn’t make it five steps.

Because I suddenly heard shouting—real shouting, panicked shouting—and students were running down the hall like a stampede.

“What the hell—?” I murmured, pressing myself to the wall as three girls sprinted past me.

“They’re here!” one cried.

“Run!” another screamed.

“What’s happening?!” I called after them.

No one answered.

Footsteps thundered from the opposite direction, heavy and fast, and before I could react, I saw them—masked men, all in black, sprinting into the dorm wing like predators broken free from cages.

One pointed directly at me.

“That one!”

“What?!” I shouted, stepping backward. “No—hey—hey, wait—what’s happening?!”

They were already on me.

Two grabbed my arms, another grabbed my waist, and I yelled, “Let go of me! Let go! I didn’t do anything—!”

“Shut up,” one hissed, clamping a hand over my mouth.

I bit him. Hard.

He snarled. “Little bastard—”

Another man grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back, and I screamed, “STOP—stop—my back—my back—!”

Pain exploded across my lashes and I cried out, legs buckling.

“Quit struggling,” one growled.

“Let me go!” I yelled. “LET ME GO—HELP—SOMEONE—!”

But most students had already fled, and the few who remained either hid or watched in terrified silence.

I kicked wildly, but my body was exhausted, weak, shaking from agony, and the more I moved, the more my back screamed. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them not to fall.

“Sedate him,” one ordered.

“No—no—NO—don’t—!”

I thrashed so hard that one of them cursed, “Hold him still!”

Another grabbed my jaw, forcing my head to the side.

“No—don’t—PLEASE—someone—help—!”

A needle pierced my neck.

Cold spread instantly, crawling down my spine, making my limbs heavy, my vision blurry.

I struggled to speak one last word, any word, anything at all—

“Don’t…”

And then my legs gave out.

The last thing I heard was one of them saying, “Perfect. He’ll sell high.”

Everything went black.