CHAPTER 3

 AURORA

Four men flanked me as they led me to the dungeon, their hands never far from the hilts of their swords.

Their piercing eyes lingered on me, a silent warning that any attempt to flee would be met with steel.

I kept my head down, my legs trembling as we moved through the dark corridor. The air grew colder with each step, and the icy chill bit into my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably.

My mind raced as the shadows around me deepened. Why the dungeon? I thought, my heart heavy with confusion and fear.

Damon had sent others to his quarters or the slave quarters, but I was being taken to this desolate, freezing place.

Was this his way of punishing me? My rejection all those years ago had meant to protect us both, but now it felt like the final nail in my coffin.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Maybe he plans to leave me here to freeze to death, I thought bitterly.

It wasn’t an impossible fate; after all, no one would care if I perished. The Moonlight Shadows pack had despised me for years.

If word of my death reached them, there would be no sorrow; only celebration at the demise of the so-called witch.

As we turned a corner in the dungeon, the atmosphere shifted entirely. The air grew heavier, and the silence was deafening.

My heart pounded in my chest, the stillness around me more terrifying than the echoing footsteps that filled the corridor moments ago.

The faint glow of a single torch flickered weakly on the damp stone walls. “Go inside,” one of the guards barked.

Before I could react, a rough hand shoved me forward, and I stumbled into the pitch-black cell. The heavy iron door slammed shut behind me with a loud clang. I couldn’t see anything; not the walls, not the floor, not even my trembling hands.

“Oh, please… someone help me,” I whispered to myself.

My legs gave way beneath me, and I collapsed onto the icy stone floor. I clutched the scarf, pulling it tighter around myself, but it was no match for the chill that enveloped me.

Time passed and exhaustion began to weigh on me, my body too drained to resist the pull of sleep.

My eyes fluttered shut, the cold floor my only companion. I succumbed to the darkness, my mind clung to the faint hope that this was all a terrible nightmare, I might wake up from. But deep down, I knew; this was my reality now.

The scent of smoke filled my nose, jolting me from a restless slumber. My eyes fluttered open, panic gripping me as I noticed tendrils of smoke curling through the cracks of my room.

It took me a moment to process what was happening, but when the heat began to sting my skin, realization struck. Flames were devouring our homes.

I screamed, my voice desperate and raw. “Help! Somebody, please!” I cried, but no one came. Instead, a faint sound of shouting reached my ears, growing louder with every passing second.

“Die, witch, die!” the hateful chant echoed outside, their venomous words piercing my heart like daggers.

One voice stood out among the others; a voice that should have been my salvation, not my condemnation. My father.

“Papa!” I called out, my voice trembling with betrayal. But his voice was unmistakable, jeering along with the crowd, cheering for my death. The heat consumed me, swallowing me whole.

I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my lungs fought for air. The cold dungeon wrapped me, reminding me that it had only been a nightmare.

Forcing myself to my feet, I shuffled toward the heavy door and knocked, “Please, I need water. I’m thirsty,”

The door swung open after several knocks, the sudden movement causing me to stumble back. “Take your water, witch, and stop making noise,” the guard snapped, his voice dripping with contempt.

I barely had time to grab the cup before he slammed the door shut with a deafening clang, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness once more.

I felt a flicker of relief after drinking the water. My throat no longer burned, and my muscles, tense from fear and cold, loosened just sllightly.

Leaning back against the damp wall, I closed my eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. The exhaustion of the day weighed me down, as sleep claimed me again.

My eyes fluttered open, a faint light illuminated the cell. At first, I thought it was a trick of my imagination, but as my vision adjusted, my heart lurched.

A tall figure stood few feet away from me, his presence commanding, almost overwhelming. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze locked with his. It was Damon.

His green robes shimmered faintly in the light, the intricate embroidery a testament to his status. His crown sat firmly on his head, its gleaming metal catching the flicker of the torchlight, casting golden reflections on his chiseled features.

His eyes were fixed on me, holding an unreadable expression that sent a chill down my spine. I swallowed hard, my body trembling as I forced myself to my knees.

He was King of all pack lands, and my instincts telling me to lower myself before the man who now ruled my fate.

“My Alpha,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as it cracked with emotions.

Damon remained silent for what felt like an eternity. The silence was heavy enough to crush me. My heart beat thundered in my ears, I dared not look up.

His hand brushed my hair, his finger caught a strand, holding it as if studying it closely, before letting it fall back into place.

The gesture sent shivers down my spine, and my breath hitched involuntarily. He knew. He knew what I had done.

“What have you done to your hair?” Damon’s voice shattered the silence, but it wasn’t the soft question of an old lover; it was a roar, laced with anger and disbelief.

The power in his voice sent ripples of terror through me. I whimpered, I wished desperately for the ground beneath me to open and swallow me whole.

“Answer me!” Damon growled, his voice lower now but more dangerous. The room seemed darker as his wolf surged to the surface, his dominance spilling into the cell like an invisible force, suffocating me.

“P-please, my Alpha,” I stammered.

“Aurora,” he said my name, his tone a mixture of fury and something else I couldn’t quite place. His hand tightened into a fist at his side.

“What on earth did you do to your hair? I won’t ask again.”

I stayed silent, my lips pressed tightly together. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t explain why I had changed my hair, why I had erased the girl he once knew.

The memories of what had happened after I rejected him, the pain I endured, the reasons for my transformation; they were secrets I had buried deep.

He was my past. That was what I had told myself over and over again. I wouldn’t let him crack open the wounds I had spent years trying to heal.

“Aurora, answer me! Or you will be punished,” he warned, his words carrying the weight of his authority, the power of the Alpha King.

Still, I chose silence over confrontation. I braced myself for the storm I knew would follow, for the wrath of the man who had once been my everything.