5: Beta Jason

Later that evening, the door slammed open and Kyla froze just as she was placing the warm food on the table.

Tormund stumbled in, reeking of liquor. His hair was a mess, his shirt half undone and his eyes bloodshot.

He glared at the table, and snarled. "What the hell is this?"

"Dinner," Kyla said softly, placing a glass of carrot juice next to the plate.

"I wanted steak, not chicken!"

"This was what your mother said you wanted today."

"I DON'T WANT EXCUSES!" He barked. "ARE YOU MARRIED TO MY MOTHER OR ME?"

With a violent sweep of his arm, he knocked the plate to the floor and the food splattered everywhere. The crash echoed through the house.

Kyla gasped, stepping back. Her heart racing voilently in her chest.

Before she could speak, he lunged forward and wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing until she was choking.

"You dare serve me slop?" His breath reeked of alcohol as his claws grazed her skin. "You dare stand here like you're worthy of me? You're nothing. Nothing but a burden I was forced to carry."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She clawed at his wrist, gasping for air.

Finally, he shoved her back. She collapsed onto the cold tile, coughing and wheezing.

"Pick it up," he ordered.

"Yes Alpha. I'll go grab a broom right away," she tried to stand, but he pressed his boot on her back, pushing her back on the floor.

"Not with your hands or a broom," he growled, his eyes glowing with cruelty. "Clean it up with your mouth."

Her body shook violently. "Tormund, please..."

"DO IT! Or so help me Moon Goddess, I will whip you in front of the entire pack naked."

The words sent shock waves across her soul. Slowly, Kyla lowered herself. The tile bit into her knees as she bent forward.

"Eat," he sneered.

Her tears dripped onto the ruined food. She bent down, picking at the scattered food piece by piece with her mouth. Each bite was humiliation. Each swallow burned her throat.

Tormund smirked, watching. "That's right. This is where you belong. You're nothing but a low life who took my life away from me. Always remember your place."

The taste of dirt and gravy made her gag. But she forced it down.

As Kyla ate the food off the floor, silent tears was streaming down her face. She knew one thing for certain, if she stayed with Tormund, she would die, so she started making her escape plan.

******

Almost another year passed by, and Kyla had been making notes of how to escape, but her mother-in-law was always with her. It was difficult to do anything with eyes on her constantly. Every step she took, Tabitha's shadow followed. Every time she paused to breathe, that woman's sharp tongue reminded her she wasn't free.

She kept a tiny notebook hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom, scribbling her ideas whenever she could: routes she might take, allies she might trust, timing for when Tormund would be gone. But no plan ever seemed strong enough. Moonveil pack was a cage, and she was its prisoner.

Tormund, strangely, had been somewhat kinder since that awful day when he made her eat food off the floor. His temper had lessened, his words had been less cruel, and although the wounds from his violence remained carved in her memory, Kyla had noticed his insults had been almost nonexistent lately.

She had watched him grow healthier as his body became stronger. His face was no longer pale and hollow. The sickness she had once healed had not returned. Sometimes, late at night, she would listen to his steady breathing beside her and wonder if that was enough for her to stay. She found her own happiness in his well-being, even if his heart never warmed to her.

She couldn't deny that a part of her loved him. She hated herself for it. She hated the way her chest still ached for his approval, how her pulse still skipped at the sound of his footsteps, how her body still remembered every rough touch. She blamed it on the mate bond, on the mark he had left on her neck that chained her to him no matter how cruel he became.

She was making the bed when the sudden shrill of the phone startled her. She froze, then picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Luna Kyla." It was Jason, the new Beta. He had stepped up after her father retired six months ago.

"Beta, how are you?" she answered carefully.

His tone left no room for pleasantries. "The Alpha has been injured and urgently needs a blood transfusion. We need you down at the hospital now."

Kyla's breath caught. The phone nearly slipped from her hand. Her chest constricted as terror surged through her veins. "What happened? Is he—?"

"Just come," Jason interrupted.

Terrified, Kyla grabbed her shawl and rushed from the room. Her legs carried her faster than she thought possible, her heart racing so hard she could feel it beating against her throat.

When she arrived at the hospital, Dr. Brando was already waiting, his expression sour as though her presence itself was an inconvenience. The Beta and Gamma stood like two stone-faced guards at the door of the room they claimed Alpha Tormund was in.

Kyla pushed past them with wide eyes. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Doctor, how's my husband? Is he alright?"

Dr. Brando sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "The Alpha is stable for now, but he will need 600cc of blood," he said slowly, as if weighing each word. "And since his father is his only match for a blood type and the former Alpha is out of town, you have to be the one to give it, since you are a universal donor."

The words slammed into her like a stone. 600cc. Her knees weakened. She had been so frail these days. She was always tired, always dizzy and her skin was already so pale. But if this would save Tormund's life, there was no second-guessing.

"I'll do it," she whispered firmly.

"Great," Dr. Brando smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll set you up in a room down the hall."