WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of physical and psychological abuse, captivity, emotional manipulation, and suicidal ideation. Reader discretion is advised.Weeks had passed.The dungeon reeked of sickly-sweet whiskey, cigars, sweat, and body odour. The only sounds were the deep snores of a drunken man muffled by soft classical music drifting through the background.Alinta lay wide awake, staring into the distance, hopelessness etched deep into her face.Bellinor's mind had fallen victim to madness, and with each passing day, it deteriorated further. He was no longer the well-groomed, put-together man he once was. He has become a sluggard, an unclean, violent, temperamental drunk.Alinta hadn’t felt Draven's presence since the day Bellinor had revealed everything. He had turned his attention to hunting the other Lupus Bellatores and growing stronger. He had already managed to track down another, and it showed. With each conquest, he grew more independent, no longer relying on Be
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