Chapter 2

Rory

The smell of mold hit my nostrils, the iron smell of blood—my blood- filled the room.

I groaned, my eyes unable to open. My back was pulsing from the flogging, eyes blurry.

I don’t know how long I have been here, but it felt like an eternity. I lifted my gaze to look at Jared, still holding the whip.

“Come on, Rory, meet me halfway,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“I don’t…” My throat hurt from the screaming and yelling I had done since they brought me here.

“I don’t think she knows anything, Bruno.” He turned to his friend, and Bruno shook his head. The man loathed me more than my own parents; he didn’t even try to hide it anymore.

“She does. Do you think this bitch would want to see this pack succeed? She hates us.” He pointed at me, his voice laced with disgust and anger.

“Please, Jar. I don’t know,” I pleaded, and he lowered his head, looking away. Jared was my best friend growing up, but ever since he assumed the role of Gamma, he treated me like shit, just like everyone in the pack.

“Please”

“Has she said anything?” My mother walked in, a handkerchief over her mouth and nose.

“No. It seems she really doesn’t know.” Jared was the one to respond. My mother muttered some curses, pulling on her dress.

“So, all this has been for nothing? Such a waste,” she concluded, and I wanted to yell, I told you so, but it’s pointless. I’m sure she had other reasons for doing this, but disguised them as an interrogation.

“Get her patched up. I want her to clean the rooms for the guests. They arrive in five hours,” she said, then walked out of the room.

My heart sank. I was only getting patched up so that I could do chores. I whimpered, placing the side of my face on the cold floor.

Moon goddess, was this my fate?

Broken and put together so that I could be broken again? I let the warm tears fall from my eyes, watching my mother walk out of the room.

“Petra, do your thing,” Bruno gestured to Petra, who had sat in the corner watching my punishment, then put me back just for them to go again.

“Hush, little one. I won’t hurt you,” she soothed, brushing my hair out of my face. “It hurts,” I whispered.

“I know. I’ll try to be gentle,” she whispered, then I felt something like hot oil being poured on my back.

“No!” I screamed, arching my back, and she continued to heal. “These will leave scars,” she whispered, but her voice drowned in my screams and yells.

Once she was done, I lifted my head but suddenly got lightheaded then everything went black.

**

"Where’s she? Where the fuck is she?” My mother’s voice came.

“Luna..” Petra’s voice whispered

Where was I? Why did it feel so soft?

“How dare you, Petra? I gave fucking instructions!” She growled, and I snapped my eyes open, listening to my mother argue with Petra. My body suddenly began to shake, my teeth rattling uncontrollably. I don’t know why I was suddenly cold. The room suddenly felt like the temperature had dropped, and the blanket covering me felt like nothing.

“She’s had enough. Push her more, and you’ll lose her.”

“I don’t fucking care. She can die for all I care!” my mother growled, and I lowered my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. My chest tightened, the feeling too familiar.

I know my mother would rather I die than walk around knowing she brought a defective human being into this world.

“Unfortunately, I won’t let you kill her.” Petra stood up for me, and I heard my mother scoff behind the door.

“Petra, you forget—”

“No,” Petra chimed in, cutting my mother off. “She will rest, and once she’s better, I’ll send her back to you,” Petra said, her voice low but final.

My mother muttered curses and then walked away, but I knew that was not the end of it. I would meet her wrath once I was out of here.

I groaned, sitting on the bed. I needed to get out of here before I ended up dead for agreeing to stay here. I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, but immediately my legs gave in.

“Where are you going?” Her raspy voice came, big green eyes roaming around my face.

“Poor thing.” She tried to get close to me, but I moved away from her, tears pricking my eyes.

“You are still not fully recovered. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t,” she said, brushing back my red hair from my face.

“You don’t understand. If…” I stutter; my voice was breaking, but she brought her hand to my face.

“I understand everything. So why don’t you get some rest?”

“No, I’m fine,” I pushed myself to my feet, wiping my tears. “I’ll get the rooms ready. It won’t take me more than an hour.” I knew what it meant if I didn’t do my chores.

Three days with no food. I don’t want to go through that.

“Rory,” she whispered, but I stopped in my tracks. “Thanks, Petra. But I can do this,” I smiled weakly at her, making my way out of the room.

I hurriedly made my way out of the house, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight. I limped all the way to my small space. But I didn’t get far when I heard Clara running towards me.

“He’s here!” She shouted, panting heavily, almost stumbling, her brown hair all over her face.

“Who?” I asked, turning to him.

“The Rogue,” she announced, out of breath, as I narrowed my eyebrows.

“Rogue? I thought he was just…Oh, goddess..” My heart began to pound too hard. Thankfully, I won’t be the one to get married to him. I almost screamed, ‘Well done, Lucienne, for escaping being married to a rogue,’ but pressed my lips together.

“Come on. We should go and see him. He’s arriving at the pack house.” She practically dragged me towards the entrance, her voice breathy and her hands sweaty.

“Okay. I get it. Let me take a moment to breathe,” I said, smiling at her, but she kept on dragging me until we stood by the corner of the house. I peered from the corner, watching men dressed in all back cargo pants and black t-shirts walk in formation towards the entrance.

“Where’s he?” I asked, my eyes darting around the men, all ten of them looking like they were selected because of their height and muscles.

“There!” She pointed to a masked man who had just stepped out. He towered over all the men who came with him, with broad shoulders and dark hair that brushed against his shoulder. I tilted my head, watching him walk towards my father, his aura radiating off him.

If I feared how powerful my father’s aura was? This was on a different level. It made my heart race and my head hurt, my chest tightening.

“We should go,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, ready to turn around and walk away. He slowly turned his head towards the corner, making my heart race.

“Let’s go.” I tugged on her shirt, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. I turned to leave when my foot was caught in mud, and I stumbled forward. I tried to grab anything to steady myself, but all the gardening tools came down, falling on me, making the loudest noise.

Goddess, no. What kind of luck is this? I lifted my eyes, and they met my father’s glare. A promise in them that he would make me pay.

My heart pounded hard, looking at Clara, hoping she would help me up, but she was gone.

“Oh, forgive my daughter. She sometimes can get curious,” my father chuckled dryly, trying to downplay it as he looked at Jared. But my eyes were on the masked man, who tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“Help her up,” my father said to Jared, who quickly rushed towards me. I scrambled to my feet before Jared could get to me.

“Let me help,” he said, his voice monotone, and I knew what that meant for me. I already know.

“Jared, please. Just…” I whispered, my voice shaking as I watched everyone walk into the house.

“Damn, Rory, you never give yourself a break. How…” he paused, grabbing me by my arm as tears rolled down my cheek.

“Jared, please. Just tell them…” I stuttered, pulling my hand out of his hold. “No. Jared”

“Is everything okay here?” A deep, gravelly masculine voice came behind me, and we both froze. I felt a chill down my spine; even without looking, I was certain the masked man was the one behind us.

I looked over my shoulder, lips ajar. “Yes. She was—”

But he cut Jared off. “I wasn’t speaking to you, boy,” he said, the word boy like an insult to Jared.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, and my breath caught as I looked at my father, who was in the back, waiting. Over thirty pairs of eyes locked on me. But the scariest pair was that of my mother, a death threat in them.

I lifted my head, meeting his strikingly amber eyes, which looked at me with an intensity in them.

I nodded my head, even as I quickly wiped my tears. He narrowed his eyes before turning to my father.

“I’ll meet all your demands.” He said, and for the first time, grateful his attention wasn’t on me. “But I want her.”