3: Taken away from slavery

The guards held Lena firmly before the heavy oak door. The head slave emerged, and her face showed no emotion.

"The bath awaits," she said.

Without warning, one of the guards spun Lena around, and he handled her without care. The sound of metal rang through the corridor as they knelt to unlock the chains that had bound her for nearly a decade.

The weight left her ankle, and Lena stared at the ground in stunned silence.

They had never removed the chains, not once in all the years of her bondage.

The cuff had been more than just a restraint because it showed that she was owned and that she was a slave. The iron was made to slow her and to stop her from running so that a wolf could hunt her down.

Yet now, the cuff lay on the ground.

The absence should have brought her relief, but it did not.

Before she could fully understand the change in her fate, rough hands shoved her forward into the chamber beyond.

The smell of lavender and warm oils reached Lena as she was led into the room. Steam rose from the bath, and the water shone beneath the dim lantern light. Other slaves stood in silence with their eyes showing nothing.

Without a word, the slaves stripped her of her tattered clothes, and the fabric tore as it fell to the ground.

Hands pushed her into the water, and warmth covered her as it washed away the blood and the sweat and the years of dirt. She breathed in sharply as rough hands scrubbed her skin, and each motion was quick and without care.

Then suddenly, one of the hands stopped as it moved her hair.

Fingers touched her neck, and then those fingers stopped. They stayed there as they traced a faint mark on her skin.

A voice broke the silence, and that voice was young and uncertain. "You are not fully human," the voice said.

Lena turned her head slightly, and her voice was quiet and flat. "I am as human as you."

"But this mark," the young girl said.

"Ilara," the elder said, and her voice was sharp with warning. "Be quiet. Say no more."

The younger girl flinched and looked away, and the room went back to silence.

Lena thought about what had been said. She wondered why they spoke of her birth as though it made her related to wolves. That mark had been on her skin since she was a child, but her mother had always said it was just a birthmark. Her mother had said it was harmless and meant nothing.

Yet now, the mark caused whispers and cautious looks, and it made them wonder what she was.

Lena did not wonder about it because she had never needed to.

When she stepped from the bath, they dried her carefully with linens that were softer than anything she had known in years. Her wounds were treated with quiet efficiency, and cool balm soothed the sting of the new lashes while salve was put on her bruises until they faded into her skin beneath steady hands.

Next came her face.

Fingers moved along her jaw, and those fingers were cool and slow. A mixture of herbs and crushed pearl was smoothed into her skin. Her hair had been tangled and dull, but oil was put in it until it shone like copper in the lantern light.

By the time they stepped back, she barely recognized her own reflection.

She turned toward the silver mirror that had been set upon the wall, and she stared at herself.

She did not look like a slave in her reflection, and she did not look dirty.

The face that met her gaze was clean and calm and distant.

They were not preparing her for death, and she realized that this was something else.

This was something worse.

A wooden cup was shoved into Lena's hands, and dark liquid moved against the rim.

"Drink," one of the guards ordered, and his voice was rough and impatient.

Lena looked down at the cup, and the smell was sharp and medicinal and wrong. Her stomach turned before she could form a question.

"No," she said firmly as her fingers curled tighter around the cup. "I will not."

The guard raised his eyebrows. "It was not a request," he said.

"I do not care," she said as she lifted her chin. "I am not drinking anything you give me. Kill me if you want, but just be done with it."

Another guard stepped forward with a sneer. "Stubborn little beast," he said.

Before she could move, the guards closed in on her. One seized her arms and pinned them behind her back while another grabbed her jaw and forced it open.

She thrashed and twisted her body, but a third pair of hands covered her nose. Panic rose in her chest as she could not breathe.

"Swallow, or choke," someone muttered.

The cup tilted, and liquid filled her mouth.

She sputtered and gagged, but the bitter drink went down her throat. It was bitter and thick, and it tasted like iron and rot.

When they released her, she dropped to her knees while she coughed and her chest heaved. The cup clattered beside her, and it was empty.

"You bastards," she said as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

But the guards said nothing, and one of them stepped forward and pulled her to her feet.

Lena's head spun, but it was not from the drink. It was from the words that echoed in her mind. The Beta had said that after today, no one would see her again.

A knot formed in her stomach.

She wondered what their plans were for her now, and she wondered why she had been brought to see Ethan. She wondered if he would kill her himself, and she wondered if the Beta had finally found out the truth about their relationship.

All of these questions confused her.

The guards led her quickly, and their grips were tight on her arms. The path twisted through corridors that she did not know, and those corridors were lined with ancient stonework and carvings she had never seen before. There were wolves in battle on the walls, and there were flames on the walls while a single moon was carved above them.

This was not the way to the slave quarters.

Ahead of her, a tall oak door stood closed, and its iron hinges were marked with symbols that were too old for her to name.

Her heart pounded as one of the guards reached for the handle.

The door creaked open.

Upon entering, she felt a heavy pressure on her chest.

Eyes turned toward her, and those eyes were sharp and watchful.

The leaders of the Crimson Moon Pack were gathered there, and they looked at her with careful assessment.

Lena swallowed, and her throat was dry.

"She is sharp," one of the elders said as he walked around her. "She will do."

The Beta's lips curled into a thin smile of triumph. "I told you as much," she said.

Alpha Ethan remained silent, and his eyes were dark as they stayed fixed upon Lena. His expression showed nothing.

"And how can we be certain she will not speak," he asked, and his tone was calm but threatening.

A chill went through Lena as she wondered what plans they were making.

The Beta stepped forward with confidence. "I have taken care of that," she said. "A witch has bound her tongue with a spell. She will speak no truths, and she will not run away. The matter is settled."

A low murmur went through the gathered lords, but Alpha Ethan stood still.

"And do you believe Alpha Darius will remain blind to this trick," he asked, and his voice became darker. "What if the truth comes out." His eyes turned once more to Lena, and they were sharp and unyielding. "This is not Kara Voss," he said, and his voice was hard. "I do not approve of this, Beta Lydia."

A hush fell over the hall.

Lena's mind raced as she thought of Kara Voss.

Now it became clear to her. She was never meant to stand in this place because Kara was meant to stand here. She was only a replacement, and she was someone that they could afford to lose.

Beta Lydia let out a slow breath, and her voice came sharp with quiet defiance. "I give you my word, Lords of the Pack," she said. "The witch will handle everything, and Alpha Darius will ask no questions."

Before anyone could speak again, the doors burst open.

Two guards strode in with hurried steps, and their faces showed urgency. "Alpha Darius has sent men from the Shadow Fang Pack," one of them said.

As soon as the warning was given, two figures entered the chamber, and those figures were tall and grim while their presence filled the room.

Lena's heart beat hard in her chest.

Without hesitation, Lydia took off her cloak and put it over Lena's shoulders. The thick fabric fell heavily upon her, and it covered her body and her face and her shaking eyes.

"Is she ready," one of the Shadow Fang messengers asked, and his voice was low.

"She is," Lydia answered, and her tone did not waver.

"Then the truce is sealed," the messenger said.

Strong hands took hold of Lena, and she was pulled back while her path was no longer her own.

Yet she did not fight.

Her thoughts moved quickly as she decided that the moment she reached the Shadow Fang Pack, she would look for a way to escape.

She would look for freedom, and she knew that she had to.