6: Only the beginning

Natasha’s POV

The walls were thick, made of something colder than stone. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and lingers. There were no windows in the cell, just one weak lantern on the far end of the corridor casting shadows that didn’t move. I sat on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest, dress torn at the hem, arms wrapped around myself like that would hold me together. My mother sat across from me, back against the opposite wall, her shawl draped over her shoulders, but even that couldn’t hide the way she shook.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was loud, heavy, echoing with what-ifs and regrets. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. My mouth was dry, my lips cracked from crying, from screaming when they took me down. When they shoved her into the cell behind me and slammed the door. I’d begged them to let her go. Told them it was me, only me. But they hadn’t listened. No one ever really did.

She looked at me, eyes red but dry now. She’d cried all her tears. “You should have waited just a little,” she said softly.

I dropped my gaze. I knew that. But I had to.

“I thought we had time,” I murmured. “I thought they wouldn’t—”

Her voice cut in, strained but gentle. “I knew this was an almost impossible task, I really wish that sound didn’t come up. You would have been out by now.”

I wanted to say something back, something brave. But my throat closed up. All I could do was crawl across the space between us and take her hand. She held mine like she wasn’t going to let go again. Like she knew this might be the last time.

That night dragged on. No food. No water. No comfort. Just hours of silence and broken whispers. She was humming old lullabies to fill the space. I shook each time I heard boots down the corridor. But they didn’t stop at our cell again. Just passed. Just haunted us with every step.

And then morning came.

Not through sunlight. There was none. But through the sudden rush of boots. Louder. Closer. Voices barked orders. Keys clinked. My breath hitched when I heard them stop in front of our cell.

A guard unlocked the bolt with one loud clang. The door creaked open.

He pointed at me. “You.”

I froze. My mother stood quickly. “Where are you taking her?” she asked, panic rising in her voice.

“Orders from the King.”

“No—please,” she grabbed my arm, held on tight. “Don’t take her alone, please—she’s just a girl.”

They didn’t care. Two guards stepped in. One pulled her away. The other grabbed me hard by the arm. I tried not to fight. I didn’t want to make it worse. But my mother did. She struggled, kicked, and screamed.

“Let her go! Let go of my daughter!”

They shoved her back into the cell.

I reached out. “Mom!”

Her hand stretched through the bars. “Tasha!”

I tried to move toward her again. The guard beside me yanked me back like I was nothing. My heart broke at the sound of her sob. I tried again to reach her hand, even if it was just for a second more.

Just then a resounding slap landed on my face.

It came hard with a stinging sensation.

The side of my face exploded in heat. My vision blurred for a moment. My head turned with the force of it.

“Move!” the guard snapped.

I didn’t even see his face. I was too stunned, too dizzy. My cheek throbbed like fire had bloomed beneath the skin.

Behind me, my mother cried louder.

They dragged me down the corridor. I didn’t speak. Just walked, even though my knees didn’t feel steady. Even though every part of me wanted to scream again. The corridor felt endless. Stone. Stone. And more stone. I counted the cracks to stay grounded.

Then we reached the grand hall.

The doors were pushed open.

Light poured in—too bright, too sudden. I blinked against it.

And then I saw him.

The Lycan King— standing at the far end. Cold as ever. His eyes found mine again like they were never looking elsewhere. He didn’t flinch when he saw the bruise blooming on my face.

But I saw the shift in his eyes.

The flicker.

The stillness in the room stretched long and hard.

He stepped forward. Just one slow step. “Who did it?”

Silence.

The guards around me stiffened. One of them faltered slightly.

He looked again. Sharper this time. “Who hit her?”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t know. I hadn’t looked.

“I didn’t see,” I said quietly.

He looked at me, then back at them. “You were all there.”

Still no answer.

He turned fully toward them. “You all want to be silent?”

No one moved. Some looked away. Others stood stiff like statues.

Then his voice dropped lower, firmer. “If no one speaks up, you’ll all pay for what one of you did.”

That sent a ripple through them. Eyes widened. A few exchanged glances.

Then—one stepped forward.

A younger guard. His lip trembled slightly. “ It-it was me, Your Majesty. I only—she tried to reach back. I thought she was stalling.”

The King didn’t answer right away.

He took slow steps forward and Stopped in front of the man.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, without warning, he grabbed the guard’s arm and twisted it.

The sound—oh, the sound. A crack so loud it echoed off the walls.

The guard screamed. Dropped to his knees. Clutched his wrist, which now hung wrong. Bent at an angle no wrist should bend.

The King leaned in slightly. His voice was calm. “That’s just a warning.”

The man whimpered, trying to hold back his cries.

The others didn’t move. No one dared to.

Then the King turned to me.

His eyes landed on my cheek again.

“You will never be touched again unless I say so,” he said, tone flat.

I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there, shaking slightly. My skin still burned where I’d been slapped. My heart raced. My mother was still in that cell. And now I was alone here, in this cold throne room, with him.

He turned his back and walked toward the high seat. “Escort her to go and get her things.”

The guards nodded. None of them looked me in the eye.

I didn’t move at first. Couldn’t.

Then one guard gently nudged me forward.

I walked past the man still groaning on the floor. Past the ones too scared to breathe. Out of the hall. Down the corridors.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t cry.

But something inside me curled tighter. Something quiet and angry. Something afraid. Because I knew this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.