Chapter 9: Desperation

Nyxia's POV:

I didn’t have time to think about it.

Twenty minutes. That was all I had.

After everything Desmond had done to me over the years, killing a human, especially one who had no ties to his world, would be as easy as slicing a piece of cake for him. I jumped up, dropping the phone on the couch, and bolted out the door without even telling Verena. There wasn’t a second to waste.

The darkness of the early morning clung to the streets like a thick, suffocating blanket as I stepped outside, the cold air biting into my skin. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the fear that surged through me.

I couldn't afford to wait for a taxi or risk getting stuck in traffic. The only way I could make it back in time was by shifting into my wolf form.

In a split second, I transformed, the familiar sharp pain slicing through me. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Ethan in time. The pain was easy to ignore now. I pushed my body harder than I ever had before, my paws tearing into the pavement as I raced through the empty streets.

My heart pounded harder the closer I got to the house, a gnawing pit of fear opening inside me. It hadn’t even been a full two hours since I’d escaped this nightmare, but now, here I was, running straight back into it. I had no choice.

I’d spent days locked away in that cell, with barely any sense of time. And now, with only eighteen hours left until my nineteenth birthday, the moment I’d pinned all my hopes on was slipping away. Maybe I had been delusional to ever think Desmond would allow me to take over the company, but I hadn’t realized just how little time I truly had.

Evangeline Interiors had been the only thing keeping me grounded, the last thread connecting me to my parents. It was my only shot at freedom. But now, it felt like a cruel fantasy.

I reached the mansion in under twenty minutes, my lungs burning from the effort. My paws skidded on the gravel as I came to a halt in front of the estate's large, ornate gate. The towering building loomed above me, oppressive and dark, like a living, breathing monster waiting to devour me whole.

I shifted back into human form, the transformation rough and painful. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body aching from the strain. My clothes, torn and shredded from the shift, clung to me, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was Ethan.

Please be okay, Ethan.

With a shaky breath, I pushed open the gate and stumbled up the driveway, the looming mansion feeling more and more like a prison with every step I took. The moment I stepped through the front doors, the atmosphere shifted. Cold. Hostile.

Bartholomew, Desmond’s right-hand man, stood waiting for me, his face twisted into a sneer. Before I could even react, his hand shot out and clamped down on my arm, his grip bruising. He yanked me forward with enough force to make me stumble, my knees buckling beneath me.

“Let go of me!” I snarled, trying to wrench my arm free from his iron grip. But Bartholomew was stronger, much stronger than I could have anticipated. He forced me down to my knees, pinning me there effortlessly.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, Nyxia,” he growled, his voice dripping with menace. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

I gritted my teeth, biting back the urge to scream. Struggling was pointless—he had me completely overpowered. Desperation clawed at my insides as I looked around the room, my eyes darting from face to face.

The hall was filled with members of the pack, their gazes fixed on me like I was some sort of spectacle. They lined the walls, wolves in their human forms, their eyes gleaming with curiosity, hunger, and malice. Even the maids and servants had gathered, whispering amongst themselves, their mocking stares burning into my skin.

But none of that mattered. I needed to find Ethan.

I scanned the room, searching frantically for any sign of him. But what I saw instead made my blood run cold.

Nikolai.

He was at the far end of the hall, forced to kneel with his hands tied behind his back, his shirt stripped away to reveal his raw, bloody back. Long, deep lash marks crisscrossed his skin, fresh blood still trickling down to the floor beneath him. His curly hair hung in his face, concealing his expression, but I didn’t need to see his face to know the pain he was in.

My stomach twisted violently. “Niko...” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What have they done…”

Guilt washed over me, so sharp it felt like a knife to the chest. This was my fault. They were punishing him because he had helped me. My brother, beaten and broken, because of me.

“Desmond!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with rage and fear. “Please, don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt Niko! I’ll do whatever you want—just let him go!”

The room went silent, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, Desmond would show some sliver of mercy. But then, from the shadows, he emerged. My uncle, the man I hated most in the world, stepped forward, his cold eyes glinting with twisted amusement. His lips curled into a sick smile as he looked down at me.

“Anything, Nyxia?” he drawled, mocking me. “You’ll do anything?”

“Please,” I begged, tears stinging my eyes. “Just let them go. Please.”

Desmond tilted his head, feigning contemplation. “Let’s test your sincerity, shall we?”

He nodded to Bartholomew, who raised the whip in his hand.

The whip cracked through the air, striking Nikolai’s back with brutal force. My brother didn’t cry out—he never did—but I saw the way his body tensed, his fists clenching against the pain. My heart shattered as the whip came down again, and again, each strike more brutal than the last.

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “Please, stop!”

But Desmond wasn’t done. He gestured to the doorway, and two wolves dragged in another figure. My breath caught in my throat.

It was Ethan.

Unconscious, his head lolled to one side, his face bruised and bloodied.

And just like that, my world fell apart.