CHAPTER 2: ISABEL’S SHAME

(Isabel’s POV)

The first sound was a sharp, splintering crash, like glass screaming as it shattered.

My body jerked, but my eyelids wouldn't open. Desperate for a rare, weightless moment of sleep, I pulled the thin blanket over my head. Another crash ripped through the air, but this time it was closer. I groaned and opened my eyes halfway, but the light stung. I shut them again and wished the noise away. Broken glass was not part of the morning routine. As one of the omega orphans assigned to kitchen duty, mornings usually began with the clanging of a spoon on a dented pot. This was something different. The sound was harsh and violent, as though there had been a fight.

A dull glow filtered through the cracks in the wall, leaving faint stripes on the floor. When I opened my eyes, my vision swam, and for a second, nothing made sense. I attempted to sit up, but something heavy pinned me down. My hand touched something warm and alive. My gaze followed the touch, and when I noticed the figure lying beside me, my chest tightened and my stomach dropped hard and fast. Fear twisted in my gut, sending a shiver down my spine. Blake's bare chest rose and fell beside me, his arm loosely wrapped around my waist, as if we belonged together. I froze and stared at him as my mind searched for answers.

"No, no, no," I screamed as I scrambled back, holding the sheet to my chest. My body felt heavy, and I felt like I was wading through mud with each movement. The room spun around me, and the walls tilted and bent. My head was pounding, making it difficult for me to think, but one question stood out more than the others. "What happened?”

A sudden crash pierced the haze in my mind, and my gaze darted to the door, just in time to notice shards of glass on the floor. The open doorway caught my attention, and there they were. Three figures. Watching. Damon stood just beyond the broken glass on the floor of the doorway, his hand still curled from the throw. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes were a storm I couldn't escape.

Just behind Damon, Camela flashed a smug little smile that made my skin crawl. Lucy stood aside and said nothing; her expression was unreadable, but the silence itself cut deeper than words could. Even though I had a knot in my stomach, I made myself stand up so they wouldn't see how shaky I was. 

"It's not what it seems," I said, gripping the sheets tightly. Blake shifted beside me, groaning and muttering, before pushing himself up, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. He looked between us, perplexed, as lost and disoriented as I felt.

Damon's gaze shifted to Blake, who was rubbing his eyes and blinking in confusion

"Get the pack warriors," Damon's cold and sharp voice rang through the room, chilling the air. Lucy turned and obeyed. Camela winked and raised her lips in a private triumph. Memories came back to me in fragments: the cold stone of the wine cellar, Camela's voice dripping with cruel amusement, and the sickly-sweet taste that lingered on my tongue. My stomach turned violently. Blake groaned beside me, his eyes filled with confusion. "Where am I?" "I thought I was with my mate."

Two warriors stepped forward with heads bowed in submission. "Take him to the cells," Damon said softly, but his voice carried more conviction than a shout ever could. The warriors pulled him up. Blake flinched. "Wait...what did I...?" Blake's eyes widened. His protests were drowned out by the thick silence that filled the hall as he was dragged past Damon.

Damon's eyes briefly met mine, wide with betrayal and panic, and I felt my chest tighten. “He didn’t do anything!” I surged forward, but Damon's hand gripped my wrist, pulling me against him. His grip was like iron.

"That's enough. "You've done your worst," he said with a sharp voice. "I've been drugged!" My voice cracked as panic gripped my throat. "Camela set it up! Ask Lucy! She instructed me to go to the cellar.

Damon's eyes held mine for a long time, searching. He then turned to Camela. "Is this true?” Her pretended shock turned into a slow shaking of the head. "Your Majesty, she's lying. Lucy can confirm. "You've been looking for an excuse for weeks, Isabel. And now this?" She waved her wrist at the bed, as if the sight was almost too pitiful to acknowledge..

Lucy returned just in time to seal my fate.

"Please, Lucy," I begged as my voice broke. Tell him what happened. "Tell him what Camela said about the cellar."

Camela's voice slipped in. "Go ahead, Lucy. Tell us." With her eyes drifting away from me, Lucy muttered, "I... don't know what she's talking about." I stared at her, in numbness.Lucy… "Nothing happened. Isabel is lying." Lucy said, lowering her gaze to the floor without raising it. I had a shaky feeling that the earth might engulf me. The betrayal was more painful than any previous wound, and all of the strength I had was drained away, leaving only a shiver of fear running through me.

“Damon, please. Hear me out! I did not do it.” I plead. Damon's voice was sharp, and his jaw tightened. "Stop talking; don't insult my intelligence, Isabel."

The sheet barely kept me in place as he dragged me through the halls, my bare feet slipping on the polished stone. Guards and servants turned to watch, but no one dared to speak. He said nothing and continued walking; his silence was worse than any shouting. I recognized the path we were taking. Ahead was the rusty, heavy door at the base of the narrow stairs, made of old corroded metal. My chest tightened.

I muttered, "No." "Not there. Please, Damon. " I am pleading." But he disregarded me. He groaned and pushed it open, revealing the basement door of the prison and the tiny, dark room inside. Darkness pooled inside like something alive, and the air reeked of damp stone and forgotten items.

He shoved me inside. I stumbled hard, and the stones scraped against my knees. "I am your mate." I screamed. "You stopped being mine when you chose him," he said before closing the door. The darkness consumed me completely and I pressed my forehead against the stone, refusing to cry or give them satisfaction.

I screamed until my throat turned raw. I banged on the door until my fists ached, but there was no response. Minutes turned into hours in the darkness, and as my mind replayed the scene... the glass, the smirk, the lie... my body ached from the cold and stillness that had crept into my bones. Everything made sense; she did it because she wants to be Luna, and if Damon believed her, he would never discover the truth. Not until I was gone.

Between anger and grief, something within me hardened. This is more than a simple misunderstanding that needs to be resolved. It was war, and they had already launched the first strike.

I was unsure of how much time had gone by. Footsteps eventually echoed down the corridor slowly. I stood there with my heart pounding, uncertain of whether to be hopeful or fearful of who was approaching. The lock turned with a dull clunk, and shadows filled the frame as the door creaked open.