Chapter 3 I Want Her

(Hilda)

My first instinct is to try and fight them off, but my muscles are far too weak after a year of inactivity. The warriors’ grips are like iron and my attempts to struggle are futile.

As some of them begin to recognize me as the former Beta of this pack, a warrior who took out many of their comrades, hatred and the thirst for vengeance flare in their eyes. They’re no longer simply following orders, they really want to hurt me.

I hate that my eyes fill with tears as desperation claws at my heart. I don’t want to show them that I’m terrified, but panic is overwhelming me. I can’t defend myself in my current condition.

Hope surges in my heart when Soren’s voice commands them to stop. The warriors hesitate, releasing their hold on me and for a brief flicker of time I think that Soren may still care about me.

Cerelia is by his side, her face a mask of shock and embarrassment as her eyes flash between me and the brother. The crowd’s attention shifts from me to her, and the uncertainty in her expression is clear. This isn’t how she’d envisioned her coronation. 

Damon is furious when he sees his sister is upset. His face contorts with anger as he pushes his way to the front. “What’s the meaning of this, Soren?” He demands. “We had a deal. You need to finish the ceremony right now!” 

Soren glances at me, before straightening his shoulders. “Of course the coronation will go on, Damon,” he says with grave certainty. I can see the weight of his responsibilities and the packs’ expectations bearing down on him. As well as concern for his mate, who is no longer me.

Damon’s eyes narrow, and a malicious grin spreads across his face. “I have another demand. I want her to go with me.” He points directly at me, his voice laced with venom. 

My heart sinks and I feel the ground shift beneath my feet. Soren’s hesitation is brief, before he shatters the last remnants of my hope and any belief that he ever truly loved me.

“Fine,” Soren agrees quietly. The word hangs in the air, a death blow to my spirit. Without any equivocation he puts my fate in the hands of a man who hates me. If I had any doubts before, I now know how little I matter to him.

I stare at him in disbelief, but Soren’s gaze is distant, as if he’s already detached himself from me. My eyes move to Alec who averts his eyes and stand staring at the ground. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

Damon’s grin widens, and he steps forward, his hand gripping my arm possessively. “Looks like you’re coming with me, Hilda.” 

With a final look at Soren, I desperately search his eyes for any sign of regret or compassion. But all I see is the cold, unyielding face of an Alpha who has made his choice. The man I once loved is gone, replaced by someone I no longer recognize.

To him I’m nothing more than an expendable bargaining chip in his efforts to find peace. A living example of the ends justifying the means.

We reach the edge of the clearing, the sounds of celebration finally fading into the distance, when Damon’s grip tightens. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “And I’m going to make sure you won’t forget it for as long as you live.” 

Biting back my tears, I dig deep to find a shred of spirit. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. “You’ll regret this,” I warn through gritted teeth. 

His laugh is cruel and dark. “I doubt that very much, Hilda. You can’t fight me, let alone a whole group of my warriors and nobody’s coming to rescue you.”

His words sting, but I won’t allow this asshole to see me falling apart. I may be wounded, but I’m still a warrior and that means fighting until the last breath leaves my body. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to survive and someday I’ll make Damon pay for his actions today.

He pushes me toward a small cabin on the outskirts of Arlo’s territory. It’s isolated and far enough from the main settlement that even with werewolf senses, nobody will hear my screams.

Damon shoves me inside, the door slamming shut behind us as I sink to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The room is small and bare, a far cry from the home I had once known. 

“You’ll stay here while I teach you some manners, little wolf,” he growls, his eyes gleaming with malice. I glare at him, my fists clenched at my sides. “I'm not your pet.” 

He steps closer, his face inches from mine. “Oh, but you are. And you’d do well to remember that.”