Chapter 4: Humiliated and Hunted

The pain that tore through me echoed in Shade. It felt like my body and soul were being ripped in half. My face pressed against the ground, lungs burning with every desperate breath. My voice stuck in my throat as I writhed, nails lengthening and clawing the dirt. I felt Shade fighting to surface, my body flickering on the edge of the shift.

When the agony finally ebbed, rough hands hauled me up by the arms, my feet dragging. My ears rang; my vision blurred as I fought to stay conscious.

“Take this bitch to the dungeon. I’ll deal with her later,” the alpha’s voice sounded distant and weak, though I couldn’t tell from where.

I blacked out on the way and woke on a filthy floor reeking of piss and rot. My head throbbed; my body ached as if I’d been beaten for hours. I struggled to stand but collapsed back down, legs too weak.

“That bastard son of a bitch,” I snarled, punching the ground. “As if I wanted to be fated to an old wolf like him.”

After several tries, I managed to stand and staggered to the bars. The cell block was empty; faint light came from two distant torches. I sniffed carefully, trying to detect anything beyond the stench, but it was useless.

In my cell, I spotted an old bowl of water. My throat closed; my lips were cracked. I didn’t care if it was clean. I knelt and saw my reflection. I looked horrific. My silver hair was caked with mud and filth; my eyes sunken, face gaunt from days of starvation, bones jutting beneath thin, fragile skin.

I gave a weak smile, cupped my hands, and drank greedily. I had to take what I could get—who knew when I’d see water again.

After drinking, my body recovered slightly. Rage bubbled up again as I remembered the alpha’s humiliation. Shade growled in agreement. I tried to shift, but searing pain shot through my ankle. I looked down—glowing silver chains. Raw flesh beneath the burning metal. I laughed bitterly; Shade writhed at the power in that silver.

“Silver chains,” I snarled, yanking with all my strength, trying to snap them. “Cowardly bastard.”

Wolves approached, peering curiously into the cell, but never meeting my eyes. The door opened; my wrists were chained with the same silver from my ankle, and I was dragged out.

I stayed silent the whole way to avoid more beatings. We reached the alpha’s grand castle—portraits and ostentatious decor. The great hall was lit and decorated for a grand celebration; pack wolves wore elegant clothes, some dripping in jewels.

I was thrown into the center. Some laughed and pointed; others whispered as I pushed myself to my knees.

“Look, the famous silver slave,” a shrill voice cut through the noise. I looked up—a young she-wolf with golden-blonde hair and intense green eyes full of contempt. She wore the flashiest jewels and was surrounded by admirers. “Goddess, what a stench.” She turned away, covering her nose.

“Stay back, princess. Don’t soil your pretty dress with something so impure,” a dark-haired she-wolf sneered.

The blonde spun in her elegant green gown, basking in applause and sighs. I rolled my eyes—I wasn’t giving them the reaction they wanted. I scanned for the nearest escape route.

“Don’t be cruel, Eleonor. Look at her—filthy, low-caste, body covered in marks from her miserable life,” another said, tone mockingly sweet.

“That mistake isn’t even worthy of breathing the same air as you, daughter,” Viktor’s voice boomed. My whole body locked; hairs rose on my arms as my eyes shot to him.

Bloodlust surged—I wanted to rip his throat out. He approached, his boot nudging my knee.

“Not even an omega would take her as a mate.” Laughter erupted, but when I started laughing, silence fell. Tension thickened.

“Funny, you say that, since the goddess paired us as fated mates. What does that make you, Alpha Alistair?” With effort, I stood, facing him and the crowd. “I, Lyra Cynthion, accept your rejection.” I stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But I swear I’ll make you regret capturing and humiliating me.”

Shade snarled inside me, claws scraping my mind, but I held her back. The chains would only cause needless pain.

Viktor’s hand shot out too fast to dodge. He seized my throat, lifting me off the ground. I couldn’t breathe; my feet kicked in the air as my nails raked his arm, trying to hurt him enough to make him let go.

“Who are you to threaten me, wolf? A slave.” He flung me across the room; my right shoulder dislocated on impact.

“Let the grand event of the night begin. The Ceremonial Hunt.”

My heart raced at those words. My body shook as I clutched my injured arm and struggled to stand. I was being sentenced to death—offered to the goddess as tribute.

“Whoever captures the prey may claim her as prize before the sacrifice.”

“This has to be a fucking joke,” I whispered. I forced myself upright, popping my shoulder back with a crack that made some wolves flinch. Viktor only stared. “Don’t end the fun too quickly. Enjoy the hunt.”