CHAPTER 5

Awakened by the suffocating sensation of being unable to breathe, Cassandra's eyes jolted open, panic surging through her as she gasped for air.

“Wh-… who…” she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, each syllable a battle against the pain constricting her throat. She couldn't say more because she wasn't given the chance.

She dangled helplessly in mid-air, her feet no longer touching the ground as she struggled against the crushing grip around her throat.

A pair of glowing red eyes locked onto hers, cold and unyielding, as the hands tightening around her neck showed no mercy.

"You should've just died! You are the most disgusting woman I've ever known!"

She could no longer draw a breath, and as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, her life flashed before her eyes. Desperately, she struggled to break free, but the exhaustion weighing her down and the searing pain in her thigh from the massive dose of wolfsbane rendered her weak and helpless.

Her fingers, once gripping the hands crushing her throat, lost their strength. Slowly, they slipped away and fell limply to her sides. The man, unsatisfied with how quickly she was fading, released his grip and threw her to the ground without hesitation. The sudden impact jolted her back to consciousness, and she gasped, coughing violently as her body fought to reclaim the air stolen from her lungs.

Her vision swam, blurred by the unshed tears threatening to spill. With a trembling gaze, she looked up at the unfamiliar figure standing over her. A strangled sob escaped her lips as the man's features sharpened just enough for her to recognize him.

"James..." She uttered weakly.

"SHUT UP, YOU DISGUSTING B**CH!" He roared.

Without any warning, in the blink of an eye, James’s foot connected with Cassandra’s face in a brutal kick.

A sharp, blinding pain exploded through her skull as she was sent reeling. Blood streamed from her nose, and the whites of her left eye were stained crimson, the force of the impact rupturing delicate vessels beneath the surface.

With each relentless kick, Cassandra's body grew weaker, her strength fading with every brutal blow. Pain coursed through her, leaving her barely able to move, yet the torment showed no sign of ending. She could only hope for the suffering to stop, for the agony to cease—but mercy never came.

He seized her hair with a brutal grip, yanking her head upward while half of her body remained sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground. Without hesitation, his clenched fist crashed into her already swollen face, the impact sending a fresh wave of agony coursing through her battered body.

Cassandra trembled violently, her limbs weak and unresponsive, every nerve in her body screaming in pain. Through the haze of suffering, her blurred vision caught sight of a shadowy figure lurking behind the bars. Someone was watching. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, she couldn’t make out who it was.

Her mind was clouded, unable to form a single coherent thought beyond the overwhelming agony consuming her. Pain was all she knew—raw, unrelenting, and suffocating. James’s torture had stripped her of everything, leaving her a broken shell.

She couldn’t move, her limbs refusing to obey. Even the simple act of making a sound was beyond her; her voice, like her strength, had been completely stolen. All she could do was exist in the torment, trapped in a body that no longer felt like her own.

"If something happens to Melissa, just know I will never let you go!"

"Know this—you will never have an easy end," he spat, his grip tightening mercilessly on her hair. "The entire pack will make sure you spend the rest of your days begging for us to end your pathetic life!" His voice was laced with cruel satisfaction as he yanked her head back, savoring her helplessness.

He released her hair with a rough, uncaring shove, sending her head crashing onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The impact echoed through the room, but she was too weak to react—her body lay motionless, completely at his mercy.

Silent and unmoving, the only sign of life left in her was the faint, ragged struggle of her breath. Each inhale was a battle, each exhale a reminder of the pain anchoring her to consciousness.

“Well, you know what?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. “Why don’t I just kill you today? Seeing you makes my stomach churn.” His fingers twitched with impatience, eager to snuff out the pathetic existence before him.

He reached for the knife strapped to his waist, the very weapon he had prepared in advance for this moment. His grip was firm, his intent unwavering—his resolve to end her was palpable, hanging thick in the air like a storm about to break.

Standing over her limp body, he turned the blade in his hand, watching how the dim light glinted off its sharp edge. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips as he spoke.

"You know," he mused, his tone almost casual, "Joana woke up just a while ago."

"Do you recognize this knife I'm holding?" he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. He bent his knees, lowering himself so Cassandra could get a better look at the weapon in his grasp.

Her swollen, battered eyes widened in disbelief, a flicker of recognition cutting through the pain. Even in her broken state, the shock in her gaze was undeniable. That was the knife she gifted Joana to protect herself.

James's lips curled into a wicked grin, exhilarated by her reaction. Just seeing the horror in her eyes sent a thrill through him, fueling his sadistic delight.

"Do you know what this means?" he sneered, gripping her chin tightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. His fingers dug into her bruised skin, his touch as cruel as his words.

"It means you're truly alone now," he continued, his voice laced with venom. "Even Joana wants you dead after finding out she lost her child."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin. "So why should I spare you?" he hissed. "No one wants you. No one cares whether you live or die. So do us all a favor—just die."

Without hesitation, he raised his hand, the gleaming knife catching the dim light as he tightened his grip. With a swift, forceful motion, he swung it downward, aiming straight for her heart.

PAK!

The sharp sound echoed through the room as a firm grip stopped James’s attack in its tracks.

"Enough of that, James!" Scott’s voice rang out, cold and steady. He lunged forward at the last possible moment, his hand clamping around James’s arm with calculated control, stopping the blade mere inches from Cassandra’s chest. His grip tightened, unyielding.

"What’s the fun in killing her now?" he mused, a smirk playing at his lips. "If she dies so easily after everything she’s done—after harming our loved ones—wouldn’t that be too merciful for a vile woman like her?"

James glared at Scott, his chest rising and falling with heavy, frustrated breaths. His fingers twitched around the hilt of the knife, his anger barely restrained.

"Fine!" he spat, yanking his arm free. With a huff of irritation, he turned on his heel and stomped toward the exit, his footsteps echoing through the cold, confined space.

But just as he reached the doorway, he abruptly stopped. A dark thought flickered across his face, and without hesitation, he spun back around. Lifting his foot, he drove a vicious kick straight into Cassandra’s stomach.

A choked gasp escaped her lips as the impact sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through her battered body.

Cassandra curled up on the cold, unforgiving ground, her body wracked with unbearable pain. Every breath she took sent sharp, agonizing jolts through her bruised and broken frame. Yet, as excruciating as the physical torment was, it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest.

The realization cut deeper than any wound—she was truly alone. There was no one left to save her, no one who cared whether she lived or died.

A bitter tear slipped down her swollen cheek as her trembling body went still. This time, she didn’t fight it. She didn’t cling to hope. She let go.

With a final, shuddering breath, she surrendered to the darkness, allowing it to consume her whole.

STEP

STEP

The slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the silent cell, each one measured, unhurried—almost taunting. The dim light cast long shadows against the cold stone walls as a figure emerged, stopping beside Cassandra’s motionless body.

She lay sprawled on the hard floor, her form battered and broken. Her once-beautiful, flawless face was now swollen beyond recognition, marred with bruises and streaked with blood. The cruel hands of violence had erased every trace of the woman she once was, leaving behind only pain and ruin.

The figure stood still, staring down at her in silence, their presence heavy in the suffocating stillness of the cell.

Who would have thought that the person she once loved and trusted the most would be the one to drag her into hell while she was still alive? That the very friend she had once saved would now wish for her death with such unwavering hatred?

But most of all, who would have thought that her brother—her only family in the world—would despise her so deeply that he found amusement in her suffering?

How could he? The brother who once held her hand as a child, who once swore to protect her, who once loved her with all his heart—how had that love twisted into something so cruel, so unrecognizable? What had poisoned his heart so completely that he now wished for her to endure nothing but pain?

How could a person’s heart be so fickle? How could love, once warm and unwavering, turn to ice in an instant? How could someone cherish you one moment and loathe you the next?

The man stood silently beside her, his presence heavy yet unreadable. No words were spoken, no gestures made—he simply watched, his gaze fixed on her broken form.

Time stretched endlessly in the dim cell, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. He remained there, unmoving, as if bound by something unseen, trapped in the moment with her.

Then, as the distant sound of hurried footsteps shattered the silence, he vanished, disappearing as if he had never been there at all, leaving nothing behind but the lingering trace of his presence.