The Whip And The Warning

Darius POV

I carried her to my chamber, her trembling body cradled against my chest. Each step I took was quick, purposeful, but careful too aware of every flinch, every broken breath she took. The sight of her earlier, bound and whipped, had stirred something dark and primal inside me. A gnawing pain. A fury I could no longer suppress.

She didn’t deserve this.

Not her.

I laid her gently on the bed, her body limp but still conscious, and mindlinked Elira immediately.

“Come to my chamber. Now.”

My voice was rough, cracking with frustration and simmering rage.

She arrived moments later, her healer’s satchel slung over her shoulder, filled with herbs and glistening vials. She bowed quickly.

“Your Grace.”

Without another word, she moved to Rian’s side, kneeling beside the bed. Her fingers were already working, assessing the wounds.

“She was whipped,” I said flatly, jaw clenched. “Across her back.”

Elira nodded grimly, her hands hovering over Rian’s skin. “I’ll ease the pain and reduce the swelling. Her wolf is weak, though it will take longer for her to heal.”

“Any signs of silver?” I asked, voice low.

She hesitated, then nodded.

The rage returned like a roaring fire in my chest.

“They hurt mate.”

Liam, my wolf, growled inside me, trembling with the urge to tear flesh.

I took a breath, forcing calm into my tone. “Stay with her. Take care of her. I’ll be back.”

Rian’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, her gaze finding mine. She didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The look in her eyes wounded, confused, but unbroken—was enough.

I turned and left the chamber, letting the door close behind me with a quiet thud. My strides were swift, echoing through the stone corridors as I headed toward the dungeon.

This couldn’t go unanswered.

She thought she could touch what was mine and walk away?

No.

Not today.

The descent into the dungeon was colder than usual. The torches lining the stairwell flickered, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The air grew damp, thick with mildew and stale blood. But beneath it, I could scent something more potent—fear.

And it wasn’t mine.

I stopped in front of her cell.

She looked up.

Nora.

Once the most poised and graceful woman at court. Now a pitiful shadow of herself, chained to the wall, her skirts torn and pooling like wilted petals around her knees. Her wrists were red and raw from struggling against the iron cuffs.

Good.

The door groaned open as I stepped inside. Her eyes widened at the sight of me. She hadn’t expected me to come. She never did.

But she’d forgotten something vital.

When I was enraged, nothing could stop me.

“Your Majesty,” she whispered, voice shaky. “I—”

I said nothing.

The silence wrapped around us like a noose. She fidgeted under the weight of it.

“I didn’t mean to…” she began, her voice cracking. “She embarrassed you. In front of everyone. I only……”

“She didn’t embarrass me,” I said sharply. “She survived me.”

Nora froze, mouth agape.

“You think that makes her a threat?” I stepped closer. “You think I should’ve punished her for doing what no one else could—living through my touch?”

“She was just an omega,” she muttered, eyes darting. “I thought she was sent to satisfy you… I didn’t know……”

“You didn’t need to know,” I snarled. “She’s not just an omega. She is my mate.”

Her gasp was audible, echoing off the dungeon walls.

“I never I never brought you here or crowned you as my betrothed for you to act rashly,” I continued coldly. “I gave you what to need and demanded obedience. And instead, you disobeyed me and raised your hand on her”

I turned to the guard just outside the cell.

“Bring the whip.”

“No,” Nora gasped. “Darius, please…..”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “You think this is about jealousy? That she took something from you? You were never mine. You were a betrothal made for convenience, not choice. You had status. Not claim.”

She opened her mouth again, but the guard entered, placing the coiled leather whip into my hand. I held it up, inspecting it with cool detachment.

“She bears one mark,” I said. “Now, you’ll bear ten.”

She closed her eyes not pleading. Just preparing.

“For punishment?” she asked softly.

“No,” I replied, stepping away. “For mercy. Because I should’ve ordered twenty.”

The first crack of the whip shattered the air as I turned and walked out, the sound echoing like thunder behind me. I didn’t look back.

I didn’t need to.

My chest burned not from guilt. But something far worse.

Fear.

A fear I dared not name.

Because when Rian survived my touch… when she looked into my eyes with trembling defiance…

I knew my fate had already been sealed.

I returned to my chamber. Elira stood up as I entered, bowing.

“Your Majesty,” she murmured.

I nodded. My eyes went to Rian immediately. She lay sleeping, her breathing soft and steady.

“How is she?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“She’s resting. Her wounds should be healed within a few days.” She packed away her vials and salves, preparing to leave.

“You may go,” I said, and she bowed once more before slipping out.

The room fell into silence.

I sat at the edge of the bed, unable to take my eyes off her. I reached out, brushing her hair back from her face. Her skin was soft beneath my fingertips, warmer than I expected.

“My mate,” I whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it feel real.

I hadn’t marked her. Hadn’t even kissed her. It was all so sudden. I hadn’t expected a mate not one like her. Not someone who could survive the curse that bled from my skin. She shouldn’t exist.

And yet, she was here.

“Rian,” I whispered again, fingers trailing down her cheek.

She murmured something incoherent in her sleep and stirred slightly. I stood quickly, not wanting to wake her.

But before I could move, the door burst open.

My Beta, Toran, rushed in, his face pale, eyes wide.

“My King…” he panted, out of breath. “Something’s happened.”

I straightened. “What?”

He hesitated. “It’s the Council. They’ve summoned an emergency tribunal. And… there’s been an attack.”

I froze. “On who?”

He swallowed hard.

“On your sister”