How Can Such Animals Exist!

The room prepared for Elena overlooked the silver skyline of Lyral City, the heart of the Lycan Kingdom, where towering structures of stone and glass stood beneath the watch of the royal palace. It was one of the finest guest chambers within the eastern wing.

None of it mattered.

The moment Isaac left the room to give her space, Elena climbed off the bed without making a sound. She ignored the thick mattress, the clean blankets, and the pillows waiting for her. Instead, she crossed the room on unsteady feet until she reached the farthest corner. There, she slowly lowered herself onto the floor, drew her knees tightly against her chest, wrapped both arms around them, and bowed her head.

That was where Isaac found her an hour later. He stood in the doorway for several long moments before quietly walking over and crouching several feet away, careful not to invade what little sense of safety she seemed to have found.

"Elena," he called softly.

Her shoulders stiffened.

"You don't have to stay there."

Silence.

"You're safe."

Another long silence followed before she answered in a voice so faint it barely reached him.

"...Trash doesn't sleep on beds."

The words struck him with a force no weapon ever had, he swallowed.

"Who told you that?"

She never answered, instead, she buried her face deeper against her knees, shrinking into herself until it seemed she wished she could disappear entirely. Isaac closed his eyes for a brief moment. Whoever had done this had not merely tortured her body, they had rewritten her mind.

For hours he remained with her, speaking only when necessary, never raising his voice, never stepping too close. He told her she would not be punished. He told her no one would beat her for making mistakes. He told her the room belonged to her. That the bed belonged to her. That she did not need permission to rest.

Each assurance was met with frightened silence.

Every time he mentioned the bed, she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"...I'll dirty it."

"You won't."

"...Trash sleeps on the floor."

"No," Isaac said gently. "You don't."

She looked at him then, the confusion in her hollow blue eyes hurt more than any accusation ever could.

It was close to evening before she finally allowed him to help her stand. Even then, every hesitant step toward the bed looked like she was walking toward something forbidden. She stopped beside it, staring at the blankets with open uncertainty.

"...Are you sure?"

Isaac nodded.

"You don't have to ask."

She reached out with trembling fingertips and touched the blanket so lightly it barely shifted beneath her hand. The softness seemed to startle her. Her breathing faltered. Slowly, almost fearfully, she climbed onto the mattress and sat perfectly still, her back rigid, both feet tucked beneath her as though she expected someone to drag her back onto the floor at any second.

Isaac quietly pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

That single act shattered whatever fragile control she had been holding onto.

A broken sob escaped her lips, tears poured from her eyes without restraint as she clutched the blanket against herself with desperate hands, Isaac never interrupted her.

He remained seated in the chair beside the bed throughout the night. He knew better than to tell her everything would be alright or to stop crying. There were wounds too deep for comfort to reach, and suffering so profound that silence became the only mercy another person could offer.

Sometime after midnight, the crying slowly faded, her breathing steadied. Still clutching the blanket tightly against her chest, Elena finally surrendered to exhaustion and fell asleep.

Morning arrived quietly.

The bedroom door opened with deliberate care as Victoria Flora stepped inside carrying a silver tray. She had served the royal household for over a century and had raised Isaac from the day he had first opened his eyes.

Isaac had told her what had happened to Elena. The broken state in which they had found her, yet belief and witnessing were two entirely different things. Seeing the young woman sleeping peacefully, she placed the tray gently upon the nearby table before approaching the bed.

"Lady Elena," she called softly. "It's morning."

No response.

Victoria smiled gently and reached out, intending only to touch her shoulder.

"Lady Elena..."

The instant her fingers brushed the blanket—

Elena's eyes snapped open, a scream tore from her throat. She launched herself off the bed so violently that she crashed onto the floor before scrambling backward on hands and knees until she reached the corner of the room. She curled into herself with frantic desperation, both arms thrown over her head as her entire body shook uncontrollably.

"I'm awake!" she cried, her voice breaking apart between terrified sobs. "I'm awake! Please don't hit me! Please... the trash is awake! The trash is awake! Please don't beat me!"

Victoria froze, the tray behind her rattled as one of the cups slid against the silver surface, her eyes widened in horror. She had heard Isaac's account, she had prepared herself for trauma.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

Victoria slowly lowered her trembling hand, tears gathering in her eyes.

For over a hundred and fifty years, Victoria Flora had lived among Lycans and wolves alike. She had tended to soldiers whose bodies had been torn apart on battlefields, comforted children orphaned by rogue attacks, and watched proud Alphas crumble beneath unbearable grief. She had believed there was very little left in this world capable of shocking her.

She had been wrong.

The young woman trembling in the corner had shattered every certainty she possessed.

Elena remained curled into herself, knees drawn tightly against her chest, forehead pressed against them, her entire body quivering beneath the oversized nightdress.

Victoria slowly lowered herself onto one knee several feet away, she did not move closer. Instead, she gently rested one palm against the wooden floor.

Tap...

A soft rhythm.

Tap... tap...

Elena didn't move.

Victoria continued.

Tap... tap...

"You don't have to look at me," she said quietly. "You can keep looking at the floor if that's what feels safe."

The tapping never stopped.

"I'm not going to touch you."

Tap... tap...

"I'm going to stay exactly where I am."

Another long silence passed before Victoria spoke again.

"You've spent a long time around people who lied to you."

Elena's trembling paused for only a second.

"So I'm not going to ask you to trust me."

Tap... tap...

"I'm only asking you to listen."

The rhythm continued for what felt like forever.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Elena lifted her head. Her dull blue eyes found Victoria's. The older woman's gentle smile never changed.

"There you are."

The tapping stopped Victoria slowly turned her hand over, opening her palm toward Elena.

"You don't have to come."

"I'll wait."

Several silent moments stretched between them before Elena hesitantly uncurling one arm. Every movement was cautious, uncertain, as though she expected punishment for making the wrong choice. Her shaking fingers finally rested inside Victoria's waiting hand.

Victoria closed her fingers gently around them, later that morning, Victoria decided to help Elena bathe.

The moment she turned the faucet, water rushed into the basin, Elena froze, her breathing stopped. Then panic overtook her.

"No..." she whispered.

The sound of running water had barely continued for another second before she stumbled backward, shaking her head violently.

"No... no... please..."

She turned and fled the bathroom, nearly tripping over herself before retreating into the same corner she always sought, arms wrapped around herself as terror consumed her once more. Victoria immediately shut the water off.

"There will be no bath today," she murmured.

Instead, she soaked a soft towel in warm water and returned.

This time Elena didn't resist, she simply sat in silence while Victoria gently cleaned the dirt from her hands, her face, and finally her back.

The towel stopped moving, Victoria's breath caught. Her fingers trembled; every inch of Elena's back was covered in scars. Victoria staggered backward. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth before rushing from the room. The moment the door closed behind her, she collapsed against the corridor wall.

Everything she had managed to suppress came surging upward. She barely reached the nearby washroom before she vomited. Tears blurred her vision as she struggled to steady herself.

"...How..." she whispered brokenly. "How could anyone do this to another human being..."