Chapter 6

Scarlet's POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I couldn’t move my arms. Again.

My head throbbed like I had been thrown against a wall. Maybe I had. I wouldn't put it past them. My mouth was dry, and my throat felt raw. My limbs felt stiff like my bones had forgotten they were supposed to belong to someone who was alive.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision but nothing changed.

It was dark. Pitch black. I couldn't even see my legs tied in front of me. 

I tugged my arms lightly, already knowing what I would find. Ropes again. I was tied to the arms of a chair this time. My ankles too. Leather straps bit into my skin. This was becoming a theme, wasn’t it?

I let out a broken, bitter laugh. I had been tied so much lately, I was starting to think the universe was trying to tell me something. Tied up in cages, collars, ropes… and even life. Oh Goddess, even life had me restrained.

I dropped my head, letting my hair curtain around my face. It smelled like blood and old smoke. What would they do with me now? Train me? Use me? Kill me? I wasn’t sure which would be worse. But I knew I had to protect my baby. He was all I had left.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Or maybe hours. It was hard to tell in the dark. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I was lucky, I would die here quietly and the world would forget me.

Just then, I heard the click sound indicating that a door was opening. The light from the hallway slashed across the floor in a sharp, golden line before the door shut again, swallowing the room back into shadow. My pulse skittered.

“Who is there?” I whispered, but my voice barely left my throat. The silence answered back. There were no footsteps showing movement. It almost felt like I had hallucinated the door opening.

But the violent shiver that licked across my skin like icy claws from the cold air that filtered in through the opened door was enough to make me sure I hadn't imagined things. It bit through my torn dress and settled into my bones like frost. I wasn’t on werewolf land anymore. The scent in the air told me that.

There was no smell of wet grass or pine trees, which were the signature scent of our pack. The heat that I was used to was not what had courses through me. It was winter cold. There was never winter in werewolf territory. We only had two seasons —Summer, and Autumn and in between we had a dry season we called the Harmattan season. We had never s

There was only one place with varied seasons like the human territory. The Lycan territory.

My stomach curled in on itself at the realization. A floorboard creaked and I held my breath.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg. But I didn’t. What was the point? What was I even going to beg for? No one cared if I screamed. From what I had read in books, they would love it when I screamed and the torture would double. So I kept numb and waited for the worst.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Whoever was in the room with me seemed to have malicious intent towards me. 

This was worse than the cage. In the cage, at least, I could curl in on myself. Here, I was open, exposed and waiting.

I whimpered.

I didn’t mean to. It slipped out due to the rising pressure in my chest and the fear in my heart. It was the sound of someone who knew something terrible was about to happen and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Because just then… I felt something. It felt hot and soft on the back of my neck. A breath.

Oh God. Someone was behind me.

I had just heard the door open. I was sure the person, whoever it was, had been standing near it. Across the room.

So how the hell were they behind me now? How had they gotten so close without footsteps? Without me perceiving their scent? How had I not felt them move?

My heart thrashed against my ribs, hard and fast like it wanted to claw its way out. I tried not to breathe, but it didn’t matter. The air was already thin and not enough for me to breathe.  

It was like a ghost had slithered into my space. It wasn’t natural. I felt cold sweat trickle down my spine. My toes curled in their restraints.

My whimper turned to a sob, a broken sound that I fought to keep quiet. I didn’t want to cry. Goddess, I didn’t want to give him that. But I was terrified.

More than I had ever been in my life. More than the first time I was rejected. More than the second. More than when I realized I had a life inside me that would come into this cruel world without protection.

My voice cracked as I whispered again, “Please…”

Please what?

Please don’t hurt me? Please kill me quickly? Please don’t touch me? I didn’t know what I was begging for. I just knew I had to say something. Maybe the universe would have mercy if I sounded pathetic enough.

My lips trembled as I repeated it. I flinched violently as cold fingers brushed beneath my chin, lifting my tear-streaked face. The touch was firm but strangely gentle. That made it worse. 

My body locked in place as my head was tilted upward. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, towering over me. His other hand moved slowly across my cheek, wiping away my tears with something soft.

A handkerchief.

I felt the fabric dab gently at the corners of my eyes, catching the streams I hadn’t even realized were still falling. The scent of the cloth lingered, clean, like freshly washed clothes and something darker, almost metallic.

Then he dropped it into my lap like I was trash. And then… I heard footsteps. Retreating.

He was leaving. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the whole purpose, to scare me. Humiliate me. Remind me I had no power. No hope.

But just as I exhaled, just as my chest heaved with a shattered breath of momentary relief, a loud click echoed through the room. A switch was turned.

Then came the light. Blinding, harsh and unforgiving.

I winced, curling into myself as much as the restraints allowed. My eyes burned and watered from the sudden brightness, and I turned my head away, trembling harder now. The tears returned in full force, streaking down my cheeks as I squinted into the blinding flood of white.

And then… I opened my eyes….and came face to face with the devil.

He stood in front of me, tall, composed, and terrifying in the kind of quiet, elegant way that made your bones forget how to hold you upright. Dressed in black, he looked like a king carved out of shadows, with eyes that gleamed red like burning embers of coal.

His face was too beautiful to belong to a man. And too cruel to belong to anything human. It was the lycan who had bought me.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Just a silent, broken scream lodged in the hollow of my throat.

I had thought I knew fear before. But staring into those eyes… I realized this was something else entirely. This. Was. Horror.