Chapter 8

I look back over at my brother and notice his hesitation. He clearly wants no part of this. He’s only an inch shorter than our father, standing at six-foot-eight. His medium-length black hair looks damp, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck before disappearing beneath the collar of his black T-shirt. The scent of his cedar body wash cuts through the thick smell of blood that coats the room. He must have just finished sparring on the training grounds and cleaned up before being called here.

His fists are clenched tightly at his sides. When his gaze flickers toward our father, I catch a brief flash of disgust and hatred in his slightly narrowed eyes.

"Alpha Ramulfus, are you sure he can handle anymore?" he asks, his voice noticeably strained. "It looks like he's moments away from losing consciousness."

I lower my gaze and focus on his hands. They’re trembling slightly as he repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists in a slow, rhythmic motion, as though he's struggling to keep himself under control.

“Nonsense! Don’t be weak!” My father’s voice thundered through the room.

“If you want to be the Alpha of this pack, then you’re going to have to man up and prove that you’re strong enough to lead! That includes maintaining order and carrying out punishments when people step out of line.” He pointed at me with a look of disgust.

“Just look at the youngest! An absolute disgrace to my Nightshade Pack! If you can’t do what I’ve instructed, then you’ll take his place and receive double what he has!”

Fuck. He was serious.

I turned my head toward my brother and forced a reassuring smile onto my face.

Please. Just do what he says.

I tried to convey the message with my eyes alone. Judging by the way his expression tightened, I knew he understood.

He took a slow, shaky breath and looked back at me with an apology written all over his face. The sight hurt. I hated seeing him like this—caught between his conscience and our father’s demands. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want any part of this. Yet he had been dragged into it anyway. And that made me feel guilty, as if I were the reason he was suffering.

My chest tightened as I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering what little energy I had left before opening them again and forcing myself to face whatever came next.

Father handed the whip to my eldest brother without saying a word. Armon stepped behind me where I couldn't see his face. I didn’t have to watch to know what was coming. The first strike ripped across my back with enough force to steal the breath from my lungs. Before I could recover, a second followed, then a third only moments later. 

My entire body was screaming at this point. I tried to stay quiet, convincing myself that if I didn’t make a sound, it would end sooner. But exhaustion was taking its toll, and a small whimper escaped before I could stop it.

Father sure as hell heard me.

“Keep going,” he ordered coldly.

Armon obeyed.

I lost track of the blows after that. They blurred together until all I knew was pain and numbness. My legs threatened to give out beneath me, my vision swam, and the room slowly dissolved into darkness. Somewhere in the middle of the beating, my body finally gave up. Everything faded into nothing as unconsciousness claimed me.

The next thing I remembered was opening my eyes to the familiar ceiling above my bed.

For several long moments, I simply stared at it, disoriented and exhausted, trying to convince myself I was awake. Every inch of my body felt impossibly heavy. My muscles throbbed with deep, throbbing pain, and even the simple act of drawing a breath made my ribs protest.

A gentle pressure around my hand slowly pulled me from my thoughts. Turning my head took more effort than it should have, but eventually my gaze found Armon sitting beside my bed. His hand was wrapped tightly around mine. Tears streamed silently down his face, one after another, and the moment I saw them, my breath hitched slightly and my heart sank.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Raymond.”

I had never seen my eldest brother cry before. 

 “I failed you as your big brother.” His grip tightened around my hand until it almost hurt. “I know this has been going on for years, not just from Father. I know the others have been doing it too. Your second brother. His friends. The people who think they can get away with treating you however they want.” His voice cracked again. “I know.”

 I stared at him in silence. 

Part of me wanted to tell him none of this was his fault, that he had done more for me than others. But another part of me knew he wouldn’t believe a single word, since he was so hardheaded and stubborn.

Armon lowered his head, taking a slow, shaky breath before continuing. “I’ve been trying to help you however I could.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. “Whenever you disappeared, I sent people I trusted to look for you. Whenever you were hurt, I made sure you got medical attention. I’ve been watching, Ray. Maybe not as closely as I should have…but I’ve been watching.”

Fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. 

“And it still wasn’t enough.”

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the ceiling fan turning overhead. After what felt like an eternity, Armon straightened slightly and looked at me with eyes full of resolve.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” The seriousness in his voice made me shift slightly, though I immediately regretted that decision due to the sharp pain that spiked in my muscles.

I took in a sharp, quick breath, and Armon gently squeezed my hand, his gaze softening as he gave me a small shake of his head.

“I’m leaving Nightshade,” he said.

My eyes widened, and my voice came out hoarse. “What?”

“I’m transferring to Silverstreak." A small smile tugged at his lips despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. 

“I’ve already spoken with their Alpha. We’ve been working together for months. I intend to come back one day and take our father’s position.” His blue eyes darkened. “I’m going to clean this place up, Ray.” The conviction in his voice made it impossible to look away. 

"I'm going to clean this place up, Ray. I'm going to expose every fucked up secret that this hellhole has desperately hid from behind their titles and reputations. The fucker who hurt you and others in this pack because they think no one will stop them." His jaw tightened and he squeezed my hand.

“It won’t happen overnight, but I have people helping me. Good people. People who want things to change.” His eyes met mine. 

For the first time in years, I saw a light in his tired eyes.

“Ray.” The gentle tone almost broke me. 

“Tomorrow you’re leaving.” I swallowed hard.

“Please…” His voice trembled. “Please promise me that you won’t come back.”

The desperation in his expression made my heart clench. 

“Stay away until I make this place safe for you. I don’t care how long it takes. A year. Five years. Ten years.” His voice cracked completely.

“Just live.” The room blurred as tears filled my own eyes. 

“Live somewhere safe.” Another tear slipped down my cheek and landed on the back of my hand. 

“I’ve spent years trying to protect you from the shadows,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “And now I’m begging you to run from them.”

I took a shaky breath and immediately regretted it as pain flared through my ribs. Even something as simple as breathing felt like torture right now.

"Monny..." My voice came out hoarse and barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

I swallowed hard before forcing out the rest. "I won't come back. I'll escape. I've been planning it for so long… waiting for the day I could finally break free of all of this." My eyes drifted toward the ceiling.

"Monny… I love you." The words were simple, but they carried years of gratitude, love, and quiet understanding.

"You've always tried to help me, in times when it felt as if I was alone." A small, pained smile tugged at my lips. "And I've already sworn to the Goddess that one way or another… I'll be free."

The room fell silent. 

For a long moment, Armon didn’t respond.

Then his grip tightened around my hand.

Whatever composure he had been holding onto shattered completely. A broken sob escaped him as he lowered his head, pressing his forehead against our joined hands. He refused to let go, as strong feelings of grief, sorrow, and desperation radiated off of him. 

"Don't say it like that," he whispered through his tears, as his shoulders trembled.

"Just... please live, Ray." The desperation in his voice cut deeper than any beating ever had.

I listened to him cry—listened to years of guilt, fear, and helplessness pour out of him—and all I could do was stare at the ceiling above us. The cracks in the paint blurred together as my thoughts drifted somewhere far away.

People always assumed death was the scariest thing imaginable. 

For me, it wasn’t.

What terrified me was the possibility of never escaping. Of spending the rest of my life trapped in this place… trapped in this endless cycle… trapped beneath the weight of people who had spent years trying to systematically break me.

That was the nightmare.

Never being free from this hell.

That was the most terrifying shit I could imagine.

As Armon’s tears continued to fall against my hand, I made myself a silent promise. No matter what happens after tomorrow, I will keep moving forward. I would survive. And someday, somehow, I would find the freedom I had spent so long dreaming about.

I jolted awake in pain, cold sweat coating my forehead and lower back as I felt like I was burning from the inside out. My breath came in short, uneven bursts as panic clawed up my chest.

I can’t breathe, help me, please.

My head turned weakly toward the nightstand on my left where the phone Draegan had given me sat within reach, even though I shouldn’t ask for help, since I’m scared that if they find out just how fucked up my body was, they could send me home. But because I know just how fucked up my body is, I also don’t want to risk dying before getting to enjoy living. So, with what little strength I had left, I reached for the phone, unlocked it, and opened my contacts where only three numbers were saved.

My vision blurred, everything felt distant and unstable as I blinked a few times waiting for it to steady, then I tapped Draegan’s name and pressed call; it rang once, twice, and then the line connected, and a low, groggy voice finally reached my ears.

“Hey, Raymond… are you alright? Do you need anything?”

I tried to answer, forcing myself to take a shallow breath, and somehow managed to force out a single word.

“Help.”

Then everything slipped away into darkness.