Chapter 8: Amelia

Cold shocked me awake, water cascading over my head and down my body in an icy deluge. I gasped, choking as some found its way into my lungs, my body convulsing with the sudden, violent awakening. Through streaming eyes, I made out the blurry figures of guards outside the cell, one still holding the empty bucket, their laughter echoing off concrete walls. Days had passed since my first awakening in this cell—how many, I couldn't be sure—but each one brought new torments, new reminders that I had exchanged one prison for another far worse.

"Rise and shine, rogues," called the guard with the bucket, his voice mocking. "Breakfast time for the Alpha King's next executees."

I pushed myself to a sitting position, shivering as water dripped from my hair onto the thin shirt and pants they'd finally provided after my second day of nakedness. The concrete beneath me had formed a shallow puddle, ensuring I would remain damp and cold for hours. My muscles ached from sleeping on the hard floor, and my stomach cramped with hunger. They fed us once a day—if you could call it feeding when the rogues took everything before I could get a mouthful.

Athena stirred weakly in the back of my mind, her presence growing marginally stronger each day as the wolfsbane slowly worked its way out of my system. Still too weak to communicate, but there—a comfort I clung to in this nightmare.

The second guard approached with a tray, sliding it through the narrow feeding slot at the bottom of the cell door. "Eat up. Condemned prisoners get three squares a day. Alpha King's mercy."

Some mercy. I watched as the tray scraped across the concrete, stopping just inside the cell. A loaf of bread, a pot of what looked like thin gruel, and five wooden spoons. No bowls. No dignity.

Both guards lingered, watching with undisguised amusement as the rogues stirred from their own wet awakenings. This was entertainment for them—the daily scramble for food, the hierarchy of desperation playing out behind bars.

The largest rogue—the one who'd spoken of breaking me when they first captured me in the forest—moved first. Despite days of captivity, he still outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds, all of it muscle. The others followed his lead, forming a tight circle around the tray. I didn't bother rising. Experience had taught me that fighting for food only led to injuries I couldn't afford.

I watched as they tore the bread into uneven chunks, the largest taking the biggest piece without challenge from the others. They dipped their wooden spoons into the gruel, slurping noisily, not bothering with any pretense of sharing. Within minutes, the pot was empty, the bread gone.

The guards chuckled, sharing a knowing look before walking away, their footsteps fading down the corridor. They knew what happened in this cell. They simply didn't care.

I pressed myself against the back wall, drawing my knees to my chest, trying to ignore the hollow ache in my stomach. Days now without food. Water from the morning dousings sustained me, but my strength was fading. Soon I wouldn't be able to fight back at all.

The largest rogue wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then turned his attention to me. His eyes held the same predatory gleam I'd seen in the forest, but now tinged with something darker after days of confinement.

"I'm still hungry," he announced to the others, his gaze never leaving me. "Think it's time we sampled the other meal they've left us."

The others laughed—an ugly, eager sound that made my skin crawl. They rose as one and began to move toward me, spreading out to cut off any escape route, though there was nowhere to run in the confines of our cell.

"Don't," I warned, my voice hoarse from disuse and thirst. I pushed myself to my feet, back against the wall, hands curled into fists at my sides. "I'm not your plaything."

"The little wolf has teeth," mocked the smallest of the four, a wiry man with a face pockmarked by old scars. "Let's see if she knows how to use them."

They closed in. The first one to reach me—the one with blackened teeth who had examined my whipping scars during my capture—grabbed for my arm. I ducked under his grasp and drove my knee into his groin with all the strength I could muster. He doubled over with a pained wheeze, and I brought my elbow down hard on the back of his neck. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious or close to it.

The others paused, surprise registering on their faces before anger replaced it.

"Bitch," snarled the leader, lunging forward.

Time slowed. My body remembered things my mind had never been taught—the proper angle of a punch, how to use an opponent's weight against them, where to strike for maximum damage. Lily and I had practiced in secret, preparing for the day when a guard might corner one of us alone, but this was different. This was instinct, bone-deep and primal.

The leader swung a meaty fist at my head. I ducked and drove my fist into his solar plexus, feeling something crack beneath my knuckles. As he staggered, I swept his legs from beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor with a thud that echoed through the cell. The back of his head connected with the concrete, and his eyes rolled back.

The remaining two attacked together. I took a glancing blow to the ribs that stole my breath, but managed to catch the arm of the scarred one as he overextended. A quick twist, a sharp snap, and he screamed as his elbow bent the wrong way. I silenced him with a kick to the temple that sent him sprawling.

The last one hesitated, eyes wide with something approaching fear. He was younger than the others, perhaps only a few years older than me, with a desperation in his eyes that might have moved me in other circumstances.

"Please," he began, backing away.

I gave him no chance to finish. A feint left, then a right hook that connected with his jaw. He spun with the force of the blow, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Four rogues. Four threats neutralized in less time than it had taken them to consume their meal.

I stood among them, chest heaving, knuckles split and bleeding, a wild triumph coursing through me. For days I'd been at their mercy, and now…

The sound of running footsteps broke through my moment of victory. The guards had returned, drawn by the commotion. They skidded to a halt outside the cell, taking in the scene with widening eyes—four unconscious rogues and me, standing over them, blood dripping from my hands.

"Holy shit," breathed one. "She took out all four."

The other guard unlocked the cell door, taser raised and aimed at my chest. "On your knees! Now!"

I remained standing. "They attacked me. I defended myself."

"I said on your knees!" The guard advanced, his partner moving to flank me.

"I'm not one of them," I said for what felt like the hundredth time. "My name is Amelia Blackwood. I was a member of Silver Lake Pack before—" I stopped, unwilling to explain my complicated status. "They captured me in the forest. I'm not a rogue."

The guard's face hardened. "Still sticking to that story? Being unnecessarily combative is just sealing your fate. The Alpha King doesn't take kindly to rogues who try to breach his city's defenses."

"I wasn't trying to breach anything!" Desperation made my voice crack. "Please, just contact Silver Lake. Ask for Lily Addams. She'll confirm who I am."

The guard with the taser stepped closer. "You attacked four prisoners. That's all the Alpha King needs to know."

"They were going to rape me!" The words tore from my throat, raw with anger and fear. "What was I supposed to do? Let them?"

Something flickered across the guard's face—doubt, perhaps—but it was quickly replaced by professional detachment. "The Alpha King will determine the truth at your trial." He lowered the taser slightly. "Now kneel, or we do this the hard way."

I hesitated, then slowly sank to my knees, hands raised in surrender. My brief victory meant nothing if I was unconscious when an opportunity for escape presented itself.

The second guard approached from behind. "Smart choice."

Something hard struck the base of my skull. Stars exploded across my vision as darkness rushed in from all sides.

The last thing I heard was the guard's voice, distant and fading: "Wildcat like her will make for an interesting execution."

Then nothing.