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CHAPTER 3: Lyra's POV

“Get inside, traitor, and don't make a sound.”

The heavy iron door slammed shut behind me with a loud, metallic screech that vibrated right through my bones. I tumbled forward, the rough silver chains around my wrists dragging against the damp stone floor. I had spent my entire life believing this underground cell was reserved for dangerous criminals and murderous rogues. I never once imagined it would hold someone born inside the pack, let alone someone who had bled and worked for it for three years.

I curled up on the frozen stone floor that first night, staring up at the single slit of moonlight cutting through the masonry near the high ceiling.

“Ryker will realize this is wrong,” I whispered into the darkness, my voice trembling. “Renn won't let them keep me here. Someone will come get me by morning.”

But morning came, and the light shifted, and nobody came.

By the third day, the heavy iron bolts on the door finally slid back. I pushed myself up against the wall, expecting a bowl of soup or a cup of water. Instead, two senior pack warriors walked into the dim cell, their faces cold. One of them held a thick, flexible leather cane in his right hand.

“Where is the food?” I asked, my voice dry and raspy.

The guard with the cane laughed, a dark and humorless sound. “You don't get meals today, Lyra. We are here to deliver a message instead.”

“On whose authority?” I demanded, backing up until the stone wall pressed against my spine.

“The order came directly from the Alphas,” the guard replied, stepping closer and raising the leather weapon. “They said you need to be taught your proper place before your formal trial begins. You took advantage of their kindness for too long.”

Before I could even speak, the cane cut through the air and struck heavily across my back. The pain was immediate, white-hot and blinding. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, taking the first strike without screaming. I was too proud to give them the satisfaction. I was in too much shock to believe Ryker and Renn would actually allow this.

By the fifth day, I stopped being proud.

The guards came back almost every single day after that, and the routine never changed. Every single time the cane landed against my skin, the guards repeated the exact same phrase.

“Alpha’s orders, traitor,” they would grunt, the blows raining down until my shirt stuck to my skin. Hearing those words over and over made the pain mean something worse. It meant the men I loved wanted me broken.

The physical torment wasn't the only thing echoing through the dark halls. Some nights, when the pack house above was quiet, I started to hear a familiar sound traveling down the stone corridor.

“Oh, Ryker, you really shouldn't have!” Liora’s laughter drifted through the iron bars, light and completely careless.

It was the specific laughter of a woman who was currently walking through the bright rooms that used to belong to me. She was eating my food, sitting in my chairs, and sleeping in the bed I had made. Hearing her joy while I sat in the dark made the anger deep inside me grow into something solid.

On what I thought was the twentieth day, I lay flat on my side on the cold floor. My back was completely raw, and my wrists were swollen and purple from the heavy silver chains. The damp air smelled like rust and old sweat.

“I hate them,” I whispered, letting the words slip out loud into the empty cell for the very first time. “I completely hate them.”

The fear I had carried for weeks finally burned away, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

“I curse the day I ever accepted the mate bond with Ryker and Renn,” I muttered into the dirt, my teeth grinding together. “I curse every single year I gave to that pack. Every meal I cooked for them, every event I organized, every fight I picked to defend their names—I regret all of it.”

I clutched my bruised wrists tightly against my chest. “I will survive this. And I promise myself right now, I will never let another wolf own me again.”

Late that same night, the heavy iron bolt on the door clicked. I didn't bother moving, expecting another round of the cane. But the door only cracked open a few inches, and a young pack warrior I didn't recognize slipped into the cell. He was moving incredibly fast, his eyes darting toward the corridor, his face pale and terrified.

“Don't move, Lyra,” he whispered, pulling a heavy iron key ring from his belt.

I frowned, my voice barely a squeak. “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” he urged, quickly kneeling down and jamming the key into the heavy lock on my wrists. “Not everyone in this pack agrees with what the Alphas and Aldric are doing to you. Some of us remember what you actually did for us.”

The heavy silver cuffs clicked open, falling to the stone floor with a dull clang. The relief in my arms was instant, but my skin was raw and bleeding.

The young guard grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up. “Listen to me carefully. The north wall of the perimeter has a blind spot for exactly twenty minutes during the midnight shift change. The guards are swapping out right now. If you go through the western briar patch, nobody will see you leave.”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, leaning against him because my legs were shaking violently.

“Because this isn't justice,” he said, pushing me toward the open door. “Now run. Don't look back, and don't stop until you cross the river.”

I didn't waste another second. I stumbled out of the cell, using the shadows of the stone corridor to guide my way. My body ached with every step, my back throbbing painfully under my torn clothes. I reached the north wall just as the courtyard went quiet for the shift change.

I squeezed through the gap in the wooden palisade, scrambling into the thick brush. I ran straight into the dark forest with bruised wrists, absolutely no food, and no idea if my weakened body would even survive the night outside the pack walls.