5

The fortress walls bled silence.

Charollet had begun to lose track of time. There were no windows in her chamber. Only a cracked stone ceiling, where water dripped endlessly from some unseen pipe, marking each moment like a slow death.

The bruises on her wrists had begun to fade. New ones bloomed on her shoulders and ribs. She no longer cried. There were no tears left to give. Only a numb ache that sat in her chest like rot.

Still, she hadn’t begged.

And that was what enraged Kade most.

He visited more often now.

Always alone.

Never loud. Never kind.

Tonight was no different.

The iron door creaked open, and the torchlight behind him cast his silhouette long and jagged across the walls.

Charollet sat on her mat, silent, staring at the stone.

“Not even a glance?” he said, stepping in. “I expected better manners from a pet.”

She said nothing.

He crouched in front of her, resting his hand on his thigh, as if he were a benevolent king offering an audience.

“I don’t think you understand your position here,” he murmured. “You belong to me now. And I don’t tolerate disobedience.”

Charollet raised her head slowly.

Her storm-grey eyes met his.

“I will never belong to you.”

It was a whisper, but it cut through the room like lightning.

For a moment, something flickered in Kade’s eyes. Not rage. Not pride.

Fascination.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her entire body went rigid. But she didn’t move.

“You’re so soft,” he said. “Even after everything. Skin like silk… cheeks like roses in snow…”

She clenched her jaw.

“You know, I could have anyone,” he continued, voice low, intimate. “But I keep coming back to you. Why do you think that is?”

She turned her face away.

“I think,” he said, circling behind her slowly, “you want this more than you admit. I think all that fire is just a mask. I think underneath it all… you want to be claimed.”

She flinched as he brushed a finger down the curve of her shoulder. Her skin crawled. She wanted to scream. To strike. To run. But there was nowhere to go. No strength to fight. And no wolf to protect her.

“Say the word, and I’ll be gentle,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll make it easy.”

Her voice came out cracked and raw.

“Touch me again… and I’ll bite off your hand.”

Kade’s expression twisted not in anger, but dark amusement.

“You really think you can scare me?” he asked, circling back in front of her. “You’re not a wolf. You’re not even a thing. You’re a canvas I get to color any way I like.”

He stood abruptly, stepping back into the torchlight.

Then his voice dropped, venomous and cold.

“I gave you a choice, Charollet. Now I’ll take that away too.”

That night, she wasn’t summoned for chores. No beatings. No orders.

But she was moved to a new room.

Larger. With a bed draped in black satin.

The guards didn’t meet her eyes as they dropped her off and locked the door behind her.

There were no chains in this room.

But she had never felt more trapped.

A mirror stood in the corner. She approached it slowly, staring at the reflection.

She barely recognized the girl staring back.

Sunken cheeks. A cut across her collarbone. Hair tangled and lifeless. But the eyes—those storm-grey eyes still held something.

Not strength. Not hope.

Just… resistance.

She turned away.

Later, a tray of food was brought in still warm. Grilled meat. Steamed bread. Soup.

She hadn’t eaten like this since before the auction.

But she couldn’t bring herself to touch it.

It was bait.

And she wasn’t hungry.

The next night, Kade returned.

This time, dressed in a dark shirt unbuttoned at the collar, black trousers, boots polished to a shine. His hair damp. Clean-shaven. A scent of musk and pine clung to him.

He looked like the princes in the old stories.

The kind that stole girls from their beds and made them forget their names.

She didn’t speak.

He stepped toward her, slow and calm.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said.

She remained seated at the far edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap.

He studied her a long moment, then sat beside her.

Close.

Too close.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard. “I want us to understand each other.”

She stared at the floor.

“You’re not like them,” he said. “Those rogues. That filthy camp. They never saw you. But I did.”

His hand reached out again, resting lightly on her knee.

She swallowed hard.

Still didn’t move.

“I can give you more than you’ve ever dreamed of,” he whispered. “You don’t have to scrub floors anymore. You don’t have to bleed for anyone.”

His fingers crept higher. Slid just under the hem of her shift.

Her breath hitched.

Kade leaned in, lips inches from her temple.

“I could make you feel worshipped.”

Something in her snapped.

She stood so abruptly the bed creaked. Her fists clenched, whole body shaking.

“I’d rather be nothing than yours,” she hissed.

Kade froze.

Then he stood too, his expression unreadable.

“Still pretending you have a choice.”

He didn’t raise his hand.

He didn’t strike her.

But something in the room changed.

The air turned colder.

He stepped toward her, gaze burning.

“I’ll remind you of what you are,” he said. “You’re not a girl. You’re not a wolf. You’re not even real.”

He turned and walked out.

The door slammed behind him.

And this time, it locked with a click that echoed deep in her chest.

That night, she lay curled on the floor, far from the bed.

Her whole body trembled, not from cold, but from shame. Rage. Helplessness.

She hadn’t shifted. Not once.

Not even a flicker of the wolf inside.

She was a ghost in a world that wanted her bones.

She closed her eyes and wished to disappear.

But morning always came.

And she wasn’t done.

Not yet.