Chapter 141: Lila’s Broken Wings

The dungeon reeked of blood and regret.

Lila’s screams had long since turned hoarse—guttural gasps and broken whimpers echoing against cold stone. The floor beneath her was slick with blood from the severed hand, staining her pale skin like ink across parchment. Her breath came in short, desperate pants as her chains rattled softly with each shudder.

And still, Connor watched her.

No pity. No mercy.

He crouched again, elbows on his knees, just inches from her. She tried to shrink away, but her chains yanked her back into the pain. He let the silence hang for a moment longer, letting the weight of her agony settle.

Then he reached behind him.

The iron branding rod he pulled out glowed faintly red, still hot from the forge.

Lila’s eyes widened. “No… no, no—”

He grabbed her by the jaw.

"You branded your sister as a murderer," he said coldly. "Now let me return the favor. But with truth."

He slammed the glowing metal against the soft flesh of her collarbone.

Her body arched.

A scream—animalistic and raw—tore from her throat as the searing pain ripped through her nerves. Smoke curled upward. The sickening scent of burning flesh filled the dungeon, and the mark—a twisted spiral symbol of treachery—was burned into her skin.

When he pulled the rod back, she was shaking violently, eyes rolling back in her head.

Connor rose.

He wiped his hand on her bloodied shirt and opened the cell door.

“Bring the guards,” he mindlinked. “It’s time the pack sees the face of betrayal.”

They didn’t give her the dignity of fresh clothes.

They dragged her out of the dungeon by her chains, half-conscious, barefoot, bloodied, and soaked in sweat. Her stump was crudely wrapped, but not to protect—it was to keep her alive long enough to suffer.

Two warriors flanked her, dragging her like a common criminal through the heart of the pack. Her blood left a trail in the dirt, and her once-beautiful black hair hung in damp clumps over her face.

By the time they reached the pack square, a crowd had already gathered.

And word had spread.

Children were perched on their parents' shoulders. Warriors stood stone-faced. Elders lined the front with narrowed eyes. The murmurs were venomous. The air was electric with tension, fury, anticipation.

Then the murmurs turned into mockery.

“Isn’t that the ‘perfect’ twin?” someone shouted.

“Not so pretty anymore!” yelled another.

A pup picked up a small rock and hurled it at her. It struck her leg. She winced.

Then another pup threw one.

Then another.

Before long, the first stone turned into a rain of them.

Small rocks. Mud. Rotten fruit. Buckets of cold water.

She slipped and fell, landing hard on her knees, chains clinking as she tried to crawl forward with one hand.

Laughter erupted.

Children jeered and cursed, some spitting in her path. “Monster!” they screamed. “Traitor!” “You tried to kill your own sister! You manipulated us all!”

“She should be dead!”

Connor stood at the edge of the platform, watching. His arms were crossed, gaze unflinching. His wolf was calm now. Fed.

But this was more than vengeance.

This was cleansing.

One of the warriors yanked Lila back to her feet by her good arm. She whimpered but didn't fight. Her energy was gone.

Then the guards forced her to her knees in front of the entire pack. Connor stepped forward.

“This,” he said, voice rising like thunder, “is the one who twisted our hearts. This is the one who betrayed our trust, who manipulated her own family, and nearly destroyed her sister’s life.”

He walked in a slow circle around her.

“For years, we treated Ivy like a curse. We shunned her. We let this creature”—he jabbed a finger toward Lila—“turn us into cowards. And she did it with a perfect smile.”

He stopped in front of her.

“She killed her brother, and made us believe it was Aria,” Elizabeth said hoarsely from the crowd, tears streaking her cheeks. “She used our love like poison to destroy her sister.”

“She doesn't deserve the name she was given,” Tom added, jaw clenched.

“From this day forward,” Connor’s voice rang out, deep and absolute, echoing through the silent hall, “Lila is stripped of her name, her rights, and any claim to this pack. She will be the lowest among us—beneath even the slaves and the dust beneath their feet.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd, but he didn’t flinch.

He raised a hand.

From the shadows, an old woman stepped forward—bent at the waist, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff carved with ancient runes. Her eyes were clouded with time, but they locked onto Lila with merciless precision.

“And from this moment on,” Connor continued, his gaze burning into Lila, “her wolf will be bound in chains.”

More gasps rippled through the crowd.

“No—please,” Lila begged, voice barely a whisper.

The old woman placed a hand on her head.

Her body convulsed. Magic—old and binding—spread from her fingers as she muttered ancient spells.

Ivy’s wolf howled inside her, wild and frantic, until the sound shrank into nothing.

She fell to her knees, gasping. Clutching her chest.

The bond hadn’t been completely severed. That would’ve been mercy.

No—this was worse.

Her wolf remained inside her… but caged. Buried deep beneath layers of silence and magic. She could feel it—feel her—howling, clawing, screaming from the dark prison she'd been forced into. But the connection between them was frayed and distant.

She couldn’t shift.

Couldn’t run.

Her heightened senses were gone—no smell, no sharp hearing, no night vision.

Her healing—stripped.

Her speed—reduced to that of a fragile, breakable human.

She was still a wolf on paper… but only in the cruelest sense.

Her wolf had become a ghost trapped in a body that could no longer serve it.

A punishment worse than death.

And she knew—every breath she took from this moment forward would be without the instinct, strength, or fire that once made her powerful.

She was empty now.

Lila collapsed forward, coughing violently, gasping as if she’d lost a piece of her soul.

Lila’s knees hit the cold floor, but the fire in her chest burned hotter than ever.

Her vision blurred—not from pain, but fury. Rage so molten it felt like it could melt the chains binding her soul. Every heartbeat echoed like a war drum in her skull. Her breathing turned ragged, shallow, animalistic.

They had taken everything.

Her power. Her pride. Her name.

And why?

Because of her.

Ivy.

‘They think they’ve broken me,’ she thought to herself, teeth clenched. ‘But I will rise from this.’

She looked up slowly, her eyes glowing with the last flicker of hatred that no magic could suppress.

‘I will make them all pay. One by one. Ivy… Connor… every last one of them who stood and watched while they humiliated me. While they chained me.’

Her lip curled as a twisted smile crept across her face.

‘They’ll see. The weak ones always fall first. And when I’m done, there’ll be nothing left of this pack but ash and memory.’

The silence that followed was thunderous.

And then came the whispers.

“She’s human now.”

“Not even that.”

Connor turned to the warriors. “Take her to the old kennels. She will live among the dogs now. Her meals will be scraps. Her life—whatever is left of it—will be a reminder.”

He glanced down at her one last time.

“You lived in Ivy’s shadow? Now you’ll grovel beneath her name.”

The guards dragged her away again.

But this time, no one threw stones.

They had seen enough.

The monster had been unmasked—and even monsters bleed.