Chapter 36

SARA 

Yvonne must have been incredibly gullible to believe that I was even capable of trying to seduce Tristan. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her how dumb she was being if she believed a single word coming out of his mouth, but I knew it was pointless. She was a woman in love, and women in love do incredibly stupid, cruel things to protect their illusions.

Yvonne didn't hit me this time. She just smiled, a thin, cruel curving of her lips that was far scarier than a fist. "Tristan, she’s breaking the rules again. And she owes a debt. A very large, very personal debt."

"She's all yours, Yvonne," Tristan said coldly, his voice devoid of any of the heat I had felt from him earlier. "Take your payment."

Then he shot me a look that momentarily confused me—a fleeting, unreadable glance that almost seemed to say, 'I'm sorry, but she made me do this.' But the look vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by steel.

They dragged me out of the cramped servant's quarters, through the sleek, modernized corridors of the main compound, and toward the vast expanse of the Grand Hall. It was late into the night, but the towering space was brightly lit with harsh, buzzing overhead halogen lights that were usually reserved for full pack meetings or emergency declarations. Word had already spread through the links; a crowd of about fifty wolves—warriors, high-ranking members, and the cruelest sycophants of Tristan's inner circle—were already gathered, buzzing with a dark, hungry anticipation.

They threw me onto the polished concrete floor in the center of the room. The biting cold of the floor seeped instantly through the thin fabric of my servant's dress, making me shiver.

A small group of household staff had gathered near the kitchen entrance, huddled together and looking terrified. Paige, the head housekeeper—a kind woman who had helped me settle in and had checked up on me constantly, asking if I needed extra blankets or food—couldn't take the sight anymore. She rushed forward, dropping to her knees a few feet away from Tristan.

"Alpha, please," she begged, her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest. "Enough is enough. The girl is already broken. She's just a child, Alpha. Have mercy, I beg of you."

Tristan looked down at her as if she were nothing more than an unsightly stain on his boot. "Mercy? Yvonne debased herself to save this pack from the threat of war. She is merely taking her hard-earned pound of flesh, Paige. And she will keep cutting until she is satisfied. Get up and get back to your station before you join her on the floor."

Paige looked desperately toward Yvonne, tears streaming down her aging face. "Ms. Yvonne, please, you are a warrior of this pack, not a common torturer—"

Yvonne ignored her entirely, acting as if the woman didn't exist. She walked to the very center of the room, standing over me like a conqueror. Her voice rang out, amplified by the cavernous acoustics of the hall.

"Strip her," Yvonne commanded, nodding to the two nearest guards.

I fought them with everything I had left. I kicked and I screamed, clawing at their hands and biting at their arms, but they were elite warriors of the pack. It took them only seconds to overpower me. My gray servant's dress was ripped away with a sickening sound of tearing fabric, leaving me stark naked under the unforgiving, blinding glare of the industrial lights. I lay there shivering on the cold concrete, the humiliation feeling like a physical weight that was crushing the very air from my lungs.

"Bring the restraints," Yvonne ordered.

This was the second time Yvonne had stripped me naked in the presence of a crowd. It struck me then that even a cruel man wouldn't treat a woman with this level of calculated indignity. I truly believed Alpha Tristan would not do this to me on his own, even if I had stabbed him in the eye. This was a woman’s brand of cruelty.

They didn't use simple ropes. They brought out heavy, modern tactical zip-ties and thick nylon straps. They forced me onto my back, pulling my arms out wide and securing my wrists to the heavy metal floor grates that were used for drainage when they washed the floors. Then they did the same with my ankles, spreading my legs wide and tying them down so I was completely immobilized. I was splayed open, exposed for the entire room to see.

I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could, trying to disappear into the comforting darkness behind my eyelids.

"Look at her!" Yvonne shouted to the crowd, pacing like a predator around my prone, trembling form. "This is the creature that killed your Luna! Our beloved Luna Claudia. And do you know why she did it? Because she was jealous. Because Alpha Tristan rejected her, and she couldn't stand to see Claudia happy. You were all there at the Full Moon festival when Alpha Tristan announced his mate, and strangely, Claudia died in less than an hour later. And now, this snake is trying to seduce the Alpha so he'd name her the Luna again."

Her speech worked perfectly. It infuriated the crowd, and they began to howl and call me names. The voices blurred together into a cacophony of hate. Killer. Temptress. Murderer. Seductress. Executioner. Enchantress. Slayer. Home-wrecker. Flirt. Cheat.

Yvonne smiled with delightful, sick pleasure. She was a gifted orator and knew exactly how to rile the crowd up with her twisted version of the truth. "Yes, she's all of that and even more," Yvonne encouraged them.

Tristan stepped forward then, standing directly beside Yvonne. He looked down at my naked, trembling body with a mask of cold detachment that I couldn't penetrate. "Yvonne is right. We have been far too lenient with this prisoner. A grand crime requires a grand punishment."

He looked out at the gathered crowd, his voice flat and void of any recognizable humanity. "She is a trophy of war, and she has forgotten her place. For the next two hours, she is free game. She is your plaything. Do with her what you will, short of killing her. That is the only rule."

A collective gasp rippled through the room—some sounds were born of horror, but too many were born of excitement.

The first one to move was a warrior whose advances I had spurned months ago, back when I was still a noble's daughter and held some shred of status. He walked over slowly, his eyes dark with a vengeful heat, and stood directly above me. He hawked deep in his throat and spat a thick, viscous glob of saliva onto my face. It landed right near my eye, warm and disgusting.

I flinched violently, straining against the nylon straps until they cut into my skin, but I couldn't move an inch.

Laughter erupted from the onlookers. That first act broke the dam of restraint. They began to crowd around me, a sea of hostile faces. I felt hands—rough, calloused, hungry hands—grabbing at my breasts, pinching hard at my thighs, and invading private spaces that should have been mine alone. Someone poured the sticky dregs of a lukewarm beer over my stomach. Another man leaned down, his breath smelling of stale tobacco, and whispered vile, degrading things in my ear while running a heavy hand over my hip.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, biting my lip until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I tried to block out the jeers, the mocking laughter, and the suffocating horror of being completely helpless while they stripped away the last remaining shreds of my humanity. Tristan and Yvonne stood back in the shadows, watching the feeding frenzy they had incited, their debts being paid in the currency of my total degradation.

"Tristan, please," I begged in a broken whisper as tears ran freely from my eyes, mixing with the spit and the beer. I couldn't believe that Tristan would be this wicked towards me. I couldn't believe he was letting them do this.