00002.

RAVENNA’S POV.

I woke up to a strange pressure in my arms, a dull ache pulsing from my shoulders down to my wrists, and when I tried to move, I couldn’t. My hands were tied above me, the rope biting into my skin, holding me up by the chandelier in the center of the room. The air was cold, but my skin felt flushed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I wasn’t alone. Several men stood around me, watching—some grinning like they were already enjoying a show I hadn’t agreed to be a part of.

One leaned against the wall, twirling a blade between his fingers. Another adjusted a camera on a stand, humming under his breath. The third just stared, wide-eyed, like he was waiting for me to scream.

Panic wrapped around my chest, tight and fast.

“Please,” I said, my voice hoarse and trembling. “Please let me go. I don’t know what this is. I haven’t done anything to you.”

One of the men stepped forward, his eyes trailing over me in a way that made my skin crawl. He tilted his head slightly, amused—like my fear was some kind of entertainment.

“Let you go? After all we paid?” he said, his voice coated with cruelty. “That wouldn’t be very fair now, would it?”

“Paid?” I repeated, my stomach turning. “Paid for what? What are you talking about?”

The one with a long scar down his jaw chimed in from my left, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “Lucas made us a good offer. Told us you’d be a fun one. Said he needed to get rid of you.”

The words hit me like a slap. I stared at them, unable to speak. Lucas couldn’t have. He wouldn’t—after how he had rejected, used, and humiliated me in front of the pack members. How could that not be enough for him?

“You’re lying,” I said, even though I was already shaking my head. “He wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Then where is he?” the first one asked with a laugh. “He’s not coming to save you, sweetheart. He already took our gold some days ago and asked us to wait until this moment.”

The tears came fast, burning down my cheeks before I could stop them. My whole body felt like it was crumbling from the inside. I couldn’t move or shift to save myself because I didn’t have my wolf. I was just a weak omega in the middle of a nightmare, with no one coming to help.

“Please,” I tried again, my voice cracking. “I can pay you. I can get more than he gave. Just let me go.”

They ignored me. One of them stepped forward with a silver goblet, the liquid inside catching the low light.

“Let’s start with you taking some of this,” he said with an evil grin.

I turned my face away, pressing my lips together, but rough hands grabbed my jaw and forced me still. The bitter drink spilled into my mouth, down my throat. I coughed, choked, but most of it went down, and the taste clung to my tongue—thick and strange.

“Good girl,” Gold Tooth sneered, flashing the metal in his grin. “That’ll leave you more than energized for us tonight.”

“What did you give me?” I asked, filled with horror.

“Just some enhancer to make you ready for us,” he laughed.

“Set the camera, Twitch,” one of them muttered, as the skinny one with nervous fingers fumbled with the tripod. I shook my head, realizing what they had done.

Before I could speak again, my heart sped up and my skin started heating up like fire had been poured into my veins.

A warmth started in my stomach and spread lower—a dull ache that pulsed between my thighs, leaving me feeling aroused as seconds passed by.

I squeezed my legs together, horrified, but it didn’t stop. It only made it worse.

I hated this. I hated how my body was reacting—how the wine twisted something inside me that I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t understand it.

My head was spinning, my breathing shallow, and every brush of fabric against my skin felt like too much.

“Good. She’s already on it,” one of them whispered, reaching for me.

I yanked against the ropes again, desperate for strength, to get away from him, for anything that could make this stop—but I had nothing. My wolf was silent, buried, just like always.

I shut my eyes, bracing for the worst—when suddenly, the door slammed open with a deafening crack that cut through the room like lightning.

The men turned, startled, and a man—tall and broad, cloaked in shadows like the night itself—stepped into the room. Even in my haze, his presence silenced everything. Power rolled off him in quiet waves. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but something in me recognized safety the moment he moved.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” one of them yelled, charging at him, but the man didn’t stop.

“How dare you show up here?” another barked.

The rogues rushed him without thinking, but he didn’t hesitate. He moved swiftly, knocking each of them out in one blow—like he had done this before, like he knew exactly how to deal with men like them.

My head lolled forward, eyes blinking slow and heavy. The sound of fists hitting flesh should’ve been terrifying, but the way he moved... It wasn’t just strength—it was certainty. Each strike landed like he’d done this a hundred times. I couldn’t focus on his face, but I clung to the sound of his breathing—steady, even—as though it was the only real thing left in the room.

I could barely keep my eyes open. The heat inside me was still growing, and it felt like it was going to drive me mad. I just needed something, anything—to make it stop already. But I saw the way the rogues fell, one by one, until the room was quiet.

Then the man came to me, silent, and cut me down. My legs buckled, but he caught me easily.

I pressed against his chest without thinking, gripping his shirt in my fists, burying my face in the safety of his scent. He smelled clean and warm—like forest and rain—and I didn’t want to let go.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, trying to pull away.

“No. Please.” I held him tighter, my voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me like this. Please… can you just touch me? Can you make the way I’m feeling stop?” I begged desperately.

He froze. “You’re not thinking straight. They drugged you. You need rest.”

“I can’t,” I said, my voice trembling. “I feel like I’m burning. I can’t stop it. It wants to drive me crazy. I don’t know what to do. Please, just make it stop.”

His hands hesitated on my back. “You’re not in control. You’ll regret this.”

“I won’t,” I whispered, my voice raw and urgent.

“Just once. Please. I need something to stop it. I can’t do this alone.”

He looked at me, eyes shadowed with something I couldn’t name.

“You’re not yourself,” he said again, quieter this time.

But I didn’t wait. I kissed him—desperate and aching—needing some kind of release, something to hold onto.

He resisted at first, still as stone beneath me. “This isn’t right,” he murmured, like he was reminding himself. But I kissed him again, and something in him cracked. Slowly—like he was stepping across a line he’d sworn never to cross—he gave in, cautious and controlled, yet unable to pull away.

His arms wrapped around me, and everything inside me unraveled.

The kiss deepened. My body moved closer to his, chasing warmth and relief. He didn’t take advantage of me or treat me like the others would have. He held me gently, moved with me like he understood what I was feeling—and how badly I needed to feel safe again.

My skin still burned, but it started to shift, no longer a wildfire but something softer, something more bearable. I clung to him, burying myself in the safety of his arms, my breathing slowing, and my thoughts becoming quieter.