10: dream to escape

Lyra’s POV

The first week with the Alphas was nothing short of hell. A slow, burning torment that clung to me like smoke, suffocating, bitter, inescapable.

Every attempt I made to run ended the same way: someone would catch me and drag me back like a stray dog, their grip punishing, their silence worse. I stopped counting how many times I was thrown back into that apartment. Each return chipped away at my hope, but never enough to kill it. Not yet.

I had learned their names by now.

Monon, with his dark hair and sharper temper, struck hardest. He didn’t need to yell, his presence was enough to make the air brittle. His anger came like lightning, sudden, merciless, and always followed by a storm.

Kael, silver-haired and silent, held his hatred like a knife he wanted to use but hadn’t yet. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, his words were coated in disdain, like even acknowledging me tasted foul.

And then there was Dax. The only one with eyes that didn’t burn through me. His dirty-blonde hair and warm voice clashed with the others. He never defended me, not openly, but he was the only one who slipped me a blanket at night. A quiet mercy I pretended not to notice.

Still, they treated me like a criminal.

They hurled the worst insults at me, slut. Betrayer. Killer.

And I was none of those things.

They didn’t care. They saw me as a monster wearing my sister’s face. I didn’t know exactly what Lira had done to them, but the rage they carried was soaked in old wounds. Wounds they now expected me to bleed for.

When I told them the truth—that I wasn’t who they thought I was, that I’d never seen them before, that I’d never rejected any bond—they dismissed me with cruel smiles and colder silence. Lies, they called them. Convenient excuses.

I quickly learned that logic meant nothing here. Especially not to Monon. He took any word from my mouth as a challenge. And he punished challenges.

So I fell silent. I let them believe what they wanted, because arguing only fed their hate. I didn’t want mates like them anyway. I didn’t want this life, this twisted fate. I just wanted to find Lira, force her to undo whatever hell she’d dragged me into, and walk away.

If I could survive that long.

I bore their punishment. The barking orders, the dehumanizing chores, the cruel games meant to humiliate. I endured it all without tears. Not because I wasn’t breaking, but because I refused to let them see it. Especially Monon. He watched me with this hunger for weakness, like he needed it to justify his anger.

But I wouldn’t give him that.

Let them starve on their own cruelty.

Still, there was something else. Something… primal.

It coiled in my chest whenever they were near, something ancient and deep, a thread pulling tight beneath my skin. I could feel it, especially when they were close. Like a storm in my blood I couldn’t escape. But I ignored it. Whatever bond existed between us, I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t let it define me.

They might believe fate had tied us together. But I wasn’t surrendering. Not to them. Not ever.

I had worn the same clothes for days now—filthy, stiff with grime. I refused to accept the cleaner ones the young servant girl had offered me. I wanted them to smell it, to feel disgusted. I wanted them to recoil and send me away, back to the cold, empty room I’d been in before.

But of course, they didn’t react.

Their enhanced senses should have made the stench unbearable, but they carried on like nothing was wrong. Maybe they were too used to filth to notice it anymore, inside and out.

As punishment, they banned me from the couch. Said it was too good for someone like me.

So I slept on the cold floor.

Curled in the corner like the animal they thought I was.

They thought that would humiliate me. But they didn’t understand—dignity didn’t live in cushions or comfort. I could sleep on stone and still hold my head high.

That afternoon, with all three gone—off handling whatever business Alphas handled—I finally had a sliver of peace. And I used it.

I went to the bathroom, careful not to make a sound, and pulled out the sliver of detergent I’d hidden after doing their laundry days ago. I filled the sink, scrubbing my shirt and pants by hand until my knuckles ached, until the water turned brown and cloudy. Then I wrung the fabric out and hung it by the window, praying it would dry before nightfall.

With the last bit of courage I had left, I turned on the shower. Hot. Steam billowed around me like a shield. I stood under the spray far longer than I should have, letting the water strip away the filth, the fear, the silent scream that lived in my chest. I didn’t cry. I just breathed.

I found lotion in the cabinet—Kael’s, I think—and smoothed it over my skin. The scent reminded me of forests, of home, of anything but this place. A stolen comfort. I allowed myself that much.

Wrapped in a towel, I tiptoed back into the living room. The couch looked more inviting than it had in days. I knew I wasn’t allowed. But just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

I curled up on it, breathing in the softness. I let my body relax.

But peace never lasted long in this place.

The door slammed open.

Kael entered first, his silver eyes locked on me like a predator scenting weakness.

Monon followed, his expression unreadable—but dangerous.

My body tensed. The heat I’d earned from the shower vanished beneath their glares.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kael’s voice cracked through the silence like a whip.

I stood, heart pounding. Not because I feared them—but because I feared what came next.

“I—I was just—”

I didn’t finish. Kael stormed in with my damp clothes clutched in his fist, his face twisted in disgust.

“Who said you could use our things? Who gave you permission to touch anything?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came.

Dax wasn’t here. No one to soften the blows.

Monon stepped forward, calm but lethal.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t have to.

“Are you mute now?” he asked coldly, his gaze burning into me.

“I washed my clothes,” I whispered. “They were filthy. I didn’t want to—smell.”

His expression didn’t change.

Then, without warning, he yanked the towel from my body.

Air rushed over my skin. Cold. Exposing. Violating.

I gasped and crossed my arms over my chest, but I didn’t scream. I didn’t plead.

The humiliation was suffocating, sharp as broken glass.

But I wouldn’t cry.

I. Would. Not.

I stood there, naked and trembling, every instinct screaming to shift, to run, to hide.

But I didn’t.

I held my ground, lifting my chin just enough to meet his gaze.

Let him look. Let him see.

He could strip me bare—but he’d never take what mattered.

Not my will.

Not my pride.

Not me.