Chapter 62 – The Luna he will get

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains contents of violence that may disturb sensitive readers and can be triggering for survivors of trauma and abuse.

(Quinn’s perspective)

I lay on the cold stone floor, the chill biting into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my bones. Every part of me throbbed, a dull reminder of what I had become—a prisoner, a plaything for the pack to break.

My breathing was shallow, each inhale laced with pain. Ribs—probably cracked. Lips—split and crusted with dried blood. Eye—swollen shut. The room stank of iron, sweat, and fear. My fear. Their victory.

They’d beaten me again today, just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.

At first, I thought I’d die from it. I hoped I would. Death would’ve been a mercy, an escape. But no. My cursed blood healed me. Every single time. Bones snapped back into place, bruises faded, and cuts stitched themselves together. I was the perfect punching bag—never staying broken long enough to be left alone. Just long enough to feel every agonizing second of it.

And they knew it.

Cale knew it.

He sent them to do this to me with one purpose—to teach me. Teach me a lesson or two. One is not ever to defy him like I did at the gala. Two, Teach me how to endure, how to suffer, and how to stop feeling pain altogether. A Luna who couldn’t feel pain? Oh, what a prize I would be. His prize. His perfect little puppet to stand by his side, smile for the pack, and bear the burden of leadership he didn’t want to carry alone.

Every day, I told myself today would be the day I fought back. Today, I’d spit in their faces and claw at their throats, dying trying if I had to. But I never did.

Because every day, I healed. And every day, they came back.

I tried not to think about how long it had been since I’d been taken. Since my life was ripped away and I was dragged into this nightmare. Days? Weeks? Time didn’t mean anything anymore. The only thing that mattered was survival. Survival and the sound of footsteps.

The footsteps that would come for me again soon.

I shifted slightly, wincing as the raw skin of my back scraped against the rough floor. The stones were uneven and jagged in places, but I’d gotten used to it. My cell was nothing but a stone box—four walls, no windows, no light except for the faint flicker of a torch outside the iron door.

I stared at the door now, my good eye fixated on it, waiting. Listening. They’d be back. Any minute now. I could already feel the anticipation crawling under my skin, a sick mix of dread and numb acceptance.

But tonight was different.

Because tonight, I wasn’t thinking about dying.

I was thinking about living.

Revenge.

It hit me like a slow, steady wave, drowning out the despair that had clung to me for weeks. If no one were going to save me—no Luca, no one—I’d save myself. I’d become what they wanted. I’d play their game.

Cale wanted a Luna who wouldn’t flinch. A Luna who wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t break.

Fine.

I’d give him that Luna.

But not because he wanted it.

Because I needed it.

I needed the strength to destroy him. To make him suffer like he made me suffer. To take everything from him the way he took everything from me.

The hinges of the iron door groaned, and my heart clenched. They were here. Again.

Three of them. Always the same. Connor, Flint, and Jared—the Omegas who carried out Cale’s orders with sadistic pleasure. Casey sometimes watched in pleasure, ensuring they carried out their orders, while Derek, the other Beta, refused to watch a she-wolf get beaten. The Omegas filled the doorway, their hulking forms casting long shadows across the cell floor.

“Well, look who’s still breathing,” Connor sneered, his voice a low growl. “Ready for round… what is it now? Lost count.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Flint muttered, cracking his knuckles. “She’ll heal. She always does.”

Jared grinned, showing too many teeth. “Maybe this time, she won’t.”

I pushed myself up slowly, biting back a groan as my body protested. My legs shook, weak from days of beatings and lack of food, but I stood. Barely. My arms hung limp at my sides, fingers trembling.

Connor took a step forward, his grin widening. “On your feet. Impressive.”

“I want to talk to Cale,” I said, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Flint snorted. “You don’t get to make requests.”

“I want to talk to him,” I repeated, forcing more strength into my words. My throat burned from the effort. “I’ll do whatever he wants. Be whatever he needs. Just… let me talk to him.”

Connor’s grin faltered for a second, replaced by something else—suspicion. He turned to the others, exchanging a look.

“Whatever he wants, huh?” Jared said, his tone mocking. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“It’s probably a trick,” Flint added. “She’ll say anything to stop us.”

“Then let him decide,” I said quickly, before they could brush me off. “Let him decide if it’s a trick.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed, studying me like I was some puzzle he couldn’t figure out. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But don’t think this gets you out of tonight.”

Relief washed over me, brief and fleeting. I wasn’t out of it yet. Not even close. But I had a crack to slip through, a chance to plant the seed.

“Come on,” Connor growled, jerking his head toward the door. “Let’s see what the Alpha has to say.”

The walk to Cale’s quarters felt endless. Every step sent sharp jolts of pain through my body, but I kept my head high, my face blank. No weakness. No fear. Not anymore.

When we reached the door, Connor knocked once before pushing it open. The room was dimly lit and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, damp cell I’d been in. Cale sat at a large desk, papers spread out before him. He looked up as we entered, his eyes narrowing.

“What is this?” Cale asked, his voice cold and commanding.

“She wants to talk,” Connor said, shoving me forward. “Says she’ll do whatever you want.”

Cale’s gaze shifted to me, sharp and calculating. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The room was heavy with unspoken tension.

“What do you want, Quinn?” he asked finally, leaning back in his chair.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You want a Luna who’s strong. Loyal. Someone who won’t break.” My voice was steady, each word deliberate. “I can be that. I will be that.”

His eyes narrowed further, suspicion flickering across his face. “And why should I believe you?”

I took a step closer, ignoring the way my body screamed in protest. “Because I’ve learned. I’ve endured. Every day, I’ve survived what you threw at me. I’m still standing.”

“For now,” he said, his tone dismissive.

“For good,” I countered. “Give me a chance. Let me prove it.”

Cale stood slowly, towering over me, his presence suffocating. He circled me, like a predator assessing its prey. “You think I’ll let you off that easy? That I’ll believe you just because you say the right words?”

“No,” I said, my heart pounding. “I expect you to test me. Watch me. And when you’re convinced, you’ll know.”

He stopped in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re desperate.”

I didn’t flinch. “I’m determined.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and final.

“Ask me again in a few days,” he said. “Until then… your punishment continues.”

My heart sank, but I kept my face neutral. “Understood.”

Connor grabbed my arm, dragging me back toward the door. As they pulled me away, I glanced back at Cale, my mind already working.

I’d play the part. I’d become exactly what he wanted.

And when the time was right…

I’d burn it all down.