Sentenced

“She will never be yours.”

The words struck hard, cutting through the fragile thread of hope that Korra’s wolf had howled into existence only moments before. Her lips trembled, but she bit down until she tasted blood, forcing herself not to break in front of them.

“Take her to the cells,” Alpha Rhyker commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The patrol obeyed without hesitation. Korra’s stomach dropped as their hands seized her once again; they were rough and merciless. Her body tensed, but there was no strength left to fight. Her knees trembled beneath her weight, the effort of standing alone almost too much.

“Wait,” Kael said sharply, taking a step forward.

“Not another word,” Rhyker snapped at his son.

Kael froze mid-step. His fists trembled at his sides, but he didn’t move. His wolf’s grief howled through hers, the sound clawing at her heart until she nearly cried out. It took everything in her not to reach for him, not to expose her desperation.

The guards dragged her away, her bare feet scraping the cold marble floor. Each step echoed through the hall like a death knell, each inch of distance from Kael tearing her wolf apart.

The air grew colder as they hauled her down a narrow staircase carved from damp stone. The walls glistened with moisture, and the scent of mold stung her nose. Her feet slipped on the slick floor, her wrists burning as their grip tightened, leaving bruises like dark brands.

A heavy door screeched open. Before she could move, they shoved her inside. She stumbled forward, crashing onto the hard, cold ground.

The cell was small, barely large enough to lie down. The walls were damp, streaked with moss, and the air sank with the stink of rust and decay. A thin mat lay in the corner, soiled and torn, not fit even for an animal. Korra’s stomach twisted at the smell, at the thought of how many had lain here before her and never left.

She sank against the wall, curling into herself. Her ribs ached with every breath. Her body shook uncontrollably, but worse than the pain was the sound of her wolf whimpering in her chest, desperate to return to her mate. But that was impossible now.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She knew this feeling too well, being locked away, discarded like something worthless.

It was all too familiar. Two weeks after her mother’s death, her father had dragged her into the storage room and shoved her inside.

“You are the reason she’s gone!” he’d roared, his breath thick with the stench of cheap wine. His hand had struck her hard enough to bruise before he shoved her through the door. “If it weren’t for you, she would still be here!”

She had pounded on the door until her fists bled. Screamed until her throat tore raw. Cried for her mother, who would never come. But no one had answered.

When the door finally opened, she had been too weak to stand. He tossed a piece of stale bread at her without looking.

“You should have died with her,” he spat before walking away.

That night, a part of her had died.

*************

Now, sitting in the damp cell, Korra wiped her tears with dirty hands. Nothing had changed. Different walls, same prison.

“Not again,” she whispered into the dark, her voice cracked and small. “Please, not again.”

But the silence offered no mercy.

Time stretched into minutes, maybe hours. Hunger clawed at her insides, her throat raw with thirst. Every sound outside made her flinch, her nerves fraying with every passing second.

Then she heard it, the echo of footsteps.

Her body went rigid. She scrambled back, pressing herself against the wall, her heart thundering painfully.

And then the scent hit her, the smell of smoke, cedar, and steel.

Her wolf stirred weakly, recognition rippling through her bones. The figure that appeared in the doorway wasn’t a soldier. It was Kael.

He crouched in the doorway, a bundle wrapped in cloth cradled in his hands. His storm-gray eyes softened the moment they found her.

Korra’s wolf whimpered, torn between joy and fear.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, hugging her knees tighter to her chest.

He said nothing at first, just pushed the bundle through the bars. “Eat.”

The smell hit her before she moved, warm bread, roasted meat. Her stomach cramped so sharply she groaned aloud, ashamed of the sound.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the bundle. The food was still warm. Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. She hadn’t been offered food with kindness since her mother’s death. Her father had thrown scraps. Rogues in taverns had offered leftovers in exchange for things she would rather die than give. But this… this was mercy.

She took a small bite. The bread was soft, the meat tender. Each swallow hurt; her throat tightened with shame and gratitude tangled together.

Kael’s hand gripped the bars, making his knuckles white. His gaze burned into her, fierce and protective.

“You don’t belong here,” he said quietly.

A shaky, bitter laugh escaped her. “I don’t belong anywhere.”

His eyes flashed, his voice hardening. “Don’t ever say that. You belong with me.”

Her breath hitched. His intensity frightened her, but beneath the fear was something else, something fragile and warm. It had been so long since anyone looked at her as though she mattered.

Before she could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Kael stiffened, his gaze darted toward the sound.

He rose swiftly, pulling his hood over his head just as Alpha Rhyker’s shadow appeared at the end of the hall.

“Kael.” Rhyker’s tone dripped with anger. “What are you doing here?”

Kael turned, his back blocking Korra from sight. “Checking the cells,” he said evenly.

Rhyker’s eyes narrowed, sharp and cold. “Don’t lie to me.” His gaze slid past Kael, landing on Korra huddled in the corner. His lip curled. “So it’s true. You have already begun to lose your head over her.”

“You can’t keep her locked away like this!” Kael’s voice burned with fury. “She’s not a threat. She’s—”

Rhyker’s reply sliced through his words. “She’s a rogue. She carries their stink. You think she’s innocent? That’s what makes her dangerous.”

“She’s mine,” Kael snapped, the word echoing through the dungeon.

Rhyker’s eyes darkened. “She is an omega.  She is weak and submissive. A Luna must be strong enough to command respect. Do you want your pack laughing at you?”

Kael didn’t waver. His jaw set, his eyes bright with defiance. “You are wrong. Look at her, she has survived things that would have broken wolves twice my size. That’s strength, whether you see it or not.”

Rhyker’s growl deepened, reverberating through the walls. “You will not defy me for a girl who reeks of rogues. If you care for her, you will stay away. The bond makes you blind, Kael, and blind wolves die young.”

Korra trembled in the corner, torn between fear and aching hope. A part of her wanted him to walk away, to save himself. But another, the selfish and desperate part of her, wanted him to fight.

**************

The next morning, the cell door opened again.

Alpha Rhyker stood there, filling the doorway; his presence sucked the air from the room.

“Stand,” he ordered.

Korra forced her legs to obey. They shook violently, but she stayed upright.

Rhyker studied her in silence, his gaze cold, unreadable. For a fleeting second, she thought he might order her death.

“You will not remain in the cells,” he said at last.

Relief flickered weakly in her chest.

Then his tone hardened. “You will be sent to the pack house and work for your keep. If you wish to stay in this pack, you will live as what you are, nothing more.”

Rhyker’s eyes pinned her. “Remember this. You will never rise above your station, and you will never be his.”

Behind him, Kael’s eyes burned with fire and defiance. He looked at her as though he wanted to tear down the world just to reach her.

But the Alpha’s command was law, and Korra’s fate was sealed.