Chapter 4

—•AVERY’s POV•—

Days turned into weeks full of misery and futile escape attempts.

I was caged.

The east wing of the pack house was nothing more than a glorified prison. The windows were barred. Guards stood at my door day and night, never speaking, just watching with cold eyes. Even when I screamed or begged, they stood like statues. Unmoved. Uncaring.

The room itself was plain—just a bed, a nightstand, and a small bathroom. No freedom.

At first, I counted the days by scratching lines into the wood beneath the bed, but eventually, I stopped. What was the point?

I had no one left. No allies. No wolf. No family who cared about me. Not even a future.

Only Ryan.

Ryan visits me sometimes, not to check on me, not to apologize. But to remind me of my duty.

"The pack needs an heir, Avery. Stop fighting your fate."

Fate? Was it fate to be used like livestock? To be locked away and stripped of everything that made me me?

When I refused to comply, the son of a bastard started taking from me. Piece by piece.

First, it was my fashion house.

My dream.

I had built up that business with nothing but passion, long nights, and calloused fingers. Designing clothes had been my way of coping, of surviving. I had poured my soul into that place.

So when he looked me in the eye and said,

“It’s gone. Burned to the ground,”

I didn’t believe him at first.

Until I saw the smoke from the window.

“Your creativity is wasted on fashion,” he told me, cold as ice. “Your only purpose now is to give me an heir!”

Next came my bank account.

Gone. Emptied without warning. I heard he gave my hard earned income to Kira.

Even the small moon-shaped pendant my mother left me which I’d sewn into my wedding dress stolen by my stepmother and sister was never returned.

Everything that reminded me of who I once was had been taken or destroyed.

He’s trying to break me.

But Goddess forbid would I let him.

Sadly every attempt to escape ended in failure. Once, I tried to climb out the second-story window. I broke the glass with a lamp and cut my palm open. The guards dragged me back inside like I was nothing.

Another time, I bribed a young omega boy with a ring I’d hidden in my mattress. He was caught. Whipped. And after that, no one came near me.

Still, I kept trying.

Not because I thought I’d succeed… but because I had to believe I could.

If I didn’t, I’d lose my mind.

Some nights, I cried until my throat burned. Other nights, I stared at the ceiling for hours, my hands curled around my stomach as if I could protect something that didn’t exist yet.

And in the middle of all that pain, I kept whispering to myself:

“You’re strong, Avery. You’ve survived worse.”

“Don’t let them win.”

“This is not the end.”

Even when I didn’t believe it, I kept saying it. Because sometimes, the lie was the only thing keeping me alive.

"Why are you fighting this?!” Ryan yelled during one of his visits. "It's inevitable, Avery. The sooner you accept your role, the easier it will be for everyone!"

"I will never accept being used like this," I spat back. "You're not the man I thought you were!"

His face hardened with disdain. "People change. Priorities change. You're no longer my priority, Avery. The pack is. And the pack needs an heir!"

Then, he angrily stormed out of my room.

As the days turned into weeks, I felt my resolve weakening. With no support, no resources, and no way out. What choice did I have?

The thought of carrying Ryan's child made me sick, but the alternative—spending the rest of my life as a prisoner—seemed worse.

Finally, on a cold morning a month after the wedding, Ryan came to my room again.

I didn’t bother standing when he walked in. I sat on the bed, my arms folded across my chest, my eyes dull with exhaustion.

"I've made an appointment at the hospital," he said, not bothering with pleasantries. "We'll do this the modern way. Artificial insemination. It’s cleaner. No need for... complications.”

I blinked slowly.

He continued. “That way, you won't have to tolerate my touch, and I won't have to betray my wife.”

Wife.

The word was like a knife twisting in my heart. She had what was rightfully mine —my title, my name, my place beside him.

And now they wanted my child too.

But I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hoping, tired of living in this small room with nothing but my bitter thoughts for company.

"Fine," I said dully. "Whatever you want."

Taken aback, Ryan was surprised by my compliance, but he didn't question it. "Good. We leave in an hour."

He left, and the door clicked shut behind him.

But the second I was alone, my pulse began to race.

Not from fear.

From the spark.

A plan—a small, desperate one—had formed in my head the moment he said we were going to the hospital.

They’d have to move me out of this room. Out of the east wing. Into a car. Through the forest. Into public.

“That’s your window, Avery” I told myself. “That’s your only chance.”

But what if I fail?

Ryan won't let me off easily.