chapter 3: death?

I stumbled back, my feet catching on the stone floor.

“Take her,” Sylvia’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold as winter ice.

The guards did not wait. They lunged for me. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I struggled, my legs kicking out, my arms thrashing against their strong grip. It was no use. They dragged me out of the maids’ quarters and into the open courtyard. The cold evening air bit into my skin.

“No! Let me go! Please!” My own screams bounced off the high stone walls, loud and desperate. I looked around, hoping, praying for someone to step out of the shadows.

Other maids were there. I saw their faces in the dark doorways and behind windows. They watched. But no one moved. No one made a sound. No one dared.

“Pin her down,” Sylvia ordered.

A hard shove sent me to my knees on the rough ground. My arms were wrenched behind my back. Tears started to fall, hot and fast down my cold cheeks.

“Please, please don’t do this—” I begged, the words choking me.

Sylvia leaned down, her face close to mine. Her smile was a cruel, thin line. You should have been killed, but instead you were thrown into a dungeon then brought back here.”

One of the maids, a young girl with shaking hands, came forward. She held a whip made from thick horsehide. Sylvia snatched it from her.

“This,” she said, raising the whip high, “is mercy.”

The first lash tore into my back.

A scream ripped from my throat. It was a sound I did not know I could make. Pain exploded through my whole body, so bright and sharp I could see nothing else.

Another lash landed. Then another.

Each one was a new fire, a new world of hurt. By the fourth, my voice was gone, worn down to a rough, hoarse whisper from all the begging. By the fifth, my body went limp. I could not hold myself up anymore.

Six.

Seven.

I felt the warm wetness of my own blood soaking through the thin cloth of my dress.

Sylvia dropped the whip. The sound of it hitting the ground was soft, but it echoed in the silent yard.

“Next time,” she said, her voice as cold as the stones beneath me, “I will not stop at seven.”

She turned and walked away. The click of her heels on the stone was full of pride. The guards let go of my arms. With nothing to hold me, I collapsed onto the ground. The cold felt almost good on my hot, torn skin.

The other maids still stood and watched. Silent. No one came to help me. Not one.

I lay there, my face pressed against the dirt, and sobbed softly. I did not know what hurt more—the burning lashes on my back, or the cold truth that no one came. No one ever did.

And deep inside, my wolf let out a small, sad whimper. It was not from anger. It was not from rage. It was from a quiet, hopeless grief.

The next day, I woke up with my wounds aching like fire was licking over raw skin. Every small movement sent a fresh wave of pain shooting down my spine. Gritting my teeth, I slowly washed myself with cold water from the basin. My hands trembled as I tried to clean around the raised, angry welts Sylvia had given me the day before.

I did not cry. I could not. I had learned a long time ago that crying did not change anything. It did not fill your belly or mend your skin. So I scrubbed in silence, biting down on my lip until I tasted blood.

When I walked out of the small bath area, I could feel the eyes of the other maids on me. Their looks were heavy with curiosity and fear. No one spoke. No one dared. When you were in Sylvia’s bad book, you became invisible. Or worse, you became a target.

Dragging my feet, I made my way to the kitchens to start my chores. The pain in my back made me stiff and slow. I was wiping down a long wooden bench when a familiar, cold voice echoed behind me.

“Hold her.”

Before I could even turn, two guards grabbed my arms and yanked me away from the bench.

“W-What–? Again? Please!” I screamed, struggling against their iron grip. But they held me firm.

Sylvia walked in front of me, her arms crossed, a cruel smile on her perfect face. “Oh, little mouse. Yes, again. I do not think I did enough yesterday. You can still walk and work today.”

“I… I… please,” I sobbed, trying to twist my arms free.

“Strip her.”

A sharp gasp rippled through the maids who had gathered to watch, but no one moved. The two guards obeyed at once, pulling and tearing at my dress until it was down around my waist. Exposing the naked part of my upper body.

I screamed, trying to cover my chest with my arms. “No, please, do not do this!”

“This time,” Sylvia hissed, pulling on a long black glove. In her other hand, she held a small glass vial filled with a dark liquid. The sharp, ugly stench of wolfsbane hit my nose like a punch to the gut. “I will make sure it leaves a scar. The horse whip was too kind.”

“Please do not!” I cried, the tears streaming down my face without my permission.

Just as Sylvia stepped forward, a deep, thunderous voice rang through the courtyard, shaking the very air.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Everyone froze. Sylvia straightened up at once, quickly hiding the vial behind her back.

“Alpha Caius! I–You were not supposed to be back yet,” she said, her voice suddenly sweet, her smile forced.

Caius’s eyes swept over the scene. They landed on my torn clothes, my sobbing form, the guards holding me down, and finally, on the wolfsbane in Sylvia’s gloved hand. His face turned to stone.

“Let her go,” he ordered.

The guards did not move fast enough.

“NOW.”

Their hands fell away from me, and I collapsed to my knees, still trying to cover myself, to make myself small.

“She, she is dangerous!” Sylvia stammered, moving toward him. “She wants to kill me. She needs to be punished!”

He stepped away from her touch like she was poison. A wave of gasps echoed around the courtyard.

Then, he walked right toward me. He did not look at anyone else. He took off his heavy, warm coat and wrapped it gently around my shaking shoulders.

“Come with me,” he said softly, his voice only for me.

I blinked up at him, my mind a swirl of confusion and fear.

Caius turned to face the stunned crowd. His voice cut through the silence like ice. “If anyone touches Ayla again, I will make your life a living hell.”

His gaze narrowed on Sylvia. “You touch her one more time, and I will have you whipped with wolfsbane. That is a promise.”

With that, he turned and walked away, lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. The silence he left behind was louder than any scream.

Inside the Alpha’s chamber, I sat stiffly on the edge of a soft, plush chair. The room was warm, filled with the smell of scented herbs and polished wood. But I still felt a deep cold inside me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked quietly, my eyes on the floor. “Do you finally feel sorry for what you did to me?”

He paused from whatever he was doing and looked at me. “You are my mate.”

The words hung in the air, simple and heavy. Just then, a maid entered. Caius did not look away from me. “Prepare the bath.”

The maid bowed her head, set out towels and a jar of salts, and left without a word.

“Go get in the bath. I need to treat your wounds,” he said.

My eyes widened. “No. I-I cannot. I will be naked.”

Without another word, Caius strode toward me. He lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me into the bathroom.

“Please… put me down!” I pleaded, my voice weak.

He did, setting me on my feet beside the deep, steaming tub. “Take off your clothes.”

“No. Not while you are here.”

“You are already naked under my coat,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You are just pretending you are not.”

“But I… I did not ask for this,” I whispered, my whole body trembling.

He reached out and removed the coat slowly. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide.

“Remove your clothes,” he repeated.

“When you leave.”

He stared at me for a long second, then gave a short nod, turned, and walked out.

I let out a shaky breath, my whole body trembling. I carefully peeled off what was left of my dirty dress. Every motion sent sharp spikes of pain across my back. Slowly, carefully, I stepped into the warm bath.

The water stung my open wounds, and I hissed through my teeth.

Then I felt a warm hand on my bare shoulder and I froze solid.

“Relax,” Caius said softly from behind me. “I just want to apply some ointment.”

His fingers were surprisingly gentle. He spread a thick, cooling salve across my torn back. The sharp pain dulled, replaced by a slow, numbing heat.

“Herbal salts were added to the water,” he murmured. “They will help you heal.”

He placed a clean, soft towel beside the tub and left the room.

I sat in the silence, staring at the ripples in the water. Could he really be sorry? Was it possible he was going to accept me? No. I shook my head. An alpha would never accept someone like me. A nobody. A maid.

When I was finished, I dried off and stepped into the soft, clean cotton dress that had been left for me. I walked out to find Caius seated at a small table, reading from a large book.

His eyes drifted up from the pages and locked with mine.

“Sit. Eat,” he said, nodding to the chair across from him and the plate of food waiting there.

The smell from the food made my stomach grumble loudly, but fear was a chain around my neck.

“Is it poisoned?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He looked up again, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“The food. Are you planning to kill me?”

His expression darkened. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be in the ground.”

I stared at the food. My belly grumbled again, a painful twist of hunger. Slowly, I sat down and began to eat. The flavors were rich and good, the best food I had tasted in years.

Caius went back to his book, but I felt his eyes flick toward me every so often.

I was halfway through the meal when a strange feeling started in my belly. A cramp twisted deep inside me. My throat began to burn.

“A-Alpha…” I stammered, clutching my stomach.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly on the floor. I rushed toward the bathroom, my head spinning, my vision blurring at the edges.

Was I going to die after all?