Chapter 2 One Day - Amelia’s POV
He stepped over Ruby's huddled form, moving toward me with unhurried steps. "And now you presume to know what others are thinking? Fascinating talent for someone without a wolf."
I backed up until the sink pressed against my lower back. There was nowhere else to go.
"I clean your shirts sometimes," I said desperately. "I know how to get coffee stains out. If you let me, I can—"
His hand closed around my throat, cutting off my words and most of my air. He lifted slightly, forcing me to stand on tiptoes.
"You know what I think?" he said, his face inches from mine. "I think the wolfless one needs another lesson in pack hierarchy."
Kaela was howling in my mind, a sound of pure rage and frustration that no one else could hear. 'Fight back! Scratch his fucking eyes out!'
But we both knew I couldn't. Even if I'd had the strength, fighting back would only make it worse.
Dominic released my throat just as spots began dancing in my vision. I gasped, dragging in a painful breath, but before I could recover, his fist connected with my stomach. The pain was immediate and intense, doubling me over. My broken rib screamed in protest.
Through watering eyes, I saw Ruby trying to crawl away. Good. If he was focused on me, maybe she'd escape the worst of his anger.
"You think you can speak to me that way?" Dominic grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. "You think anyone cares what happens to you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, dragging me toward the kitchen door by my hair. The pain was blinding, but I scrambled to get my feet under me, trying to reduce the pressure on my scalp. He jerked me into the hallway, past two pack members who glanced our way and then deliberately looked elsewhere. No one would intervene. No one ever did.
"The Alpha keeps you around out of charity," Dominic said conversationally as he pulled me toward the stairs that led down to the lower levels. "But even charity has its limits."
I stumbled on the stairs, falling hard on my knees. He didn't pause, just kept dragging me downward, my knees and shins banging against each step. By the time we reached the bottom, I was crying silently, tears sliding down my cheeks and dripping onto the cold stone floor.
The basement corridor was dimly lit and damp, the air growing colder as we approached my room at the far end. Dominic finally released my hair, only to grab my arm and shove me against the wall next to my door.
"You think you're better than the rest of us because you were their little pet once?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against my face. "You're nothing. Less than nothing."
'One day he'll die screaming,' Kaela promised darkly. 'I'll make sure of it.'
The key scraped in the lock—he had a master key, of course—and then he was shoving me into my room. I stumbled and fell onto the thin mattress that served as my bed, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
Dominic followed, closing the door behind him. In the dim light filtering through the tiny window well, his face was all harsh angles and shadows.
"Take off your shirt," he ordered.
Terror shot through me. "Please—"
His foot connected with my side, right where my broken rib was weakest. The pain was so intense that for a moment, everything went white and silent. When I came back to myself, I was curled into a ball, trying to protect my injured side.
"I said, take it off. Or I'll do it for you, and you won't have a shirt anymore."
With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned the threadbare flannel I'd been wearing for the past three days. It was too big, passed down from someone else, the sleeves rolled up several times. I slipped it off my shoulders, leaving me in a thin tank top that did little to hide the scars that crisscrossed my back and arms.
Dominic reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. The blade caught the dim light, and I could see the distinctive silvery sheen that made it deadly to werewolves.
'No,' Kaela whispered, her anger giving way to fear. 'Not again.'
"Turn around," he said coldly.
I did as I was told, presenting my scarred back to him. The first cut was shallow but burned like fire—silver always did. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, tasting blood.
"This is what happens to servants who forget their place," he said, making another cut that crossed the first. "This is what happens to the wolfless who think they have the right to speak."
Each cut burned hotter than the last. Silver wounds didn't heal properly on werewolves—even on failed ones like me. These would become new scars to join the old ones, a record of lessons written in my flesh.
I don't know how long it lasted. Time stretched and warped around the pain until nothing existed beyond it. At some point, I realised I was lying face-down on my mattress, the straw inside it poking through the fabric and into my skin. My back was wet with blood, my tank top stuck to the wounds.
The door closed. The lock turned. He was gone.
'Amelia?' Kaela's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. 'Can you hear me?'
"Yes," I whispered aloud, too exhausted to keep the conversation inside my head.
'You stupid, brave idiot.' There was a catch in her mental voice that might have been a sob if wolves could cry. 'Why did you do that?'
I turned my head slightly, wincing at the pull on my back muscles. "You would have done the same."
'But I can't. That's the whole fucking problem.' Her anger was back, but it wasn't directed at me. 'I'm trapped in here while you bleed out there. What kind of wolf am I?'
"The only kind I've got," I murmured, closing my eyes against the tears that threatened again.
The cold from the stone floor was seeping into my bones, but I couldn't summon the energy to crawl properly onto my bed. The silver burns throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each pulse sending fresh waves of pain across my back.
'We need to clean those cuts,' Kaela said after a while. 'If they get infected...'
"I know." But I didn't move. Not yet. "Just give me a minute."
In the silence that followed, I listened to the familiar sounds of my prison—water dripping somewhere in the corner, the distant hum of the pack house above, the occasional scurrying of a mouse behind the walls. Home sweet home.
'One day we'll get out of here,' Kaela promised, as she had a thousand times before. 'One day I'll be able to shift, and we'll show them all what we can do.'
I didn't answer. Some lies were too painful to acknowledge, even between us. Instead, I lay still and waited for the strength to patch myself up again, one more time, like I always did. Because what other choice did I have?