Chapter 12
The first stroke lands on Nana’s back, and she grunts through clenched teeth. She knows they want her break, to cry and beg for mercy, but she’s determined not to give them the satisfaction. She tightens her jaw, refusing to make a sound.
Felisha stands at the far end of the crowd, her face pale and stricken. Nana catches her staring and knows she’s probably holding back tears. Felisha looks like she’s ready to run in and stop the madness, but she doesn’t move. If Felisha admits she gave Nana the money for the perfume and makeup, they’d both be dragged through hell. Nana’s punishment would double, maybe worse.
The tenth stroke hits the same raw spot on her back, and this time, Nana can’t stop herself. Her knees buckle slightly, and the guards yank her back up like she’s some fucking rag doll. The pain slices through her resolve like a knife, and her hands clench into fists so tight her nails bite into her palms.
The crowd isn’t quiet anymore. Whispers are spreading, some laughing, some sneering, others just watching. There’s always a goddamn audience for her humiliation. She hasn’t eaten all day, hasn’t stopped working, and now this.
Her vision blurs. A tear escapes, and then another. She bites her lip so hard it almost bleeds, trying to swallow the cries clawing at her throat.
Lowell curls up on the dirt floor of a small room, a rundown hut hidden deep in the forest. His back feels like it’s being ripped apart, the phantom pain as sharp as if he were there himself. His claws dig into the wooden planks beneath him, his breathing ragged.
He rubs a hand over his back, confused for a moment until his palm comes away stained with blood. His head snaps up, and his eyes darken. “Mate,” he growls, his voice and furious. The realization hits him hard. Every muscle in his body screams in protest, but he forces himself up, shaking with effort. His side burns like fire where the silver bullet is still lodged deep. It’s killing him slowly, but he doesn’t give a shit right now. Nana is in pain, and it’s pulling at him like a chain around his chest. He can’t ignore it.
“Fuck this pain,” he mutters, gripping the doorway for balance. His legs feel like jelly, but he pushes forward. Each step sends agony tearing through him, but the pull of his mate drives him.
He stumbles a few feet before collapsing against a tree. His claws scrape down the bark as he tries to haul himself upright again. “I don’t have time for this shit” he growls under his breath, his voice venomous with frustration.
The silver bullet is sapping his strength, slowing his healing, making every goddamn movement a fight. But he keeps going, dragging himself forward, his wolf snarling inside him, demanding h move faster. Whoever’s hurting her will pay.
His vision waivers again, and he crashes to his knees, panting, his body refusing to cooperate. His claws dig into the dirt as he gasps for air. “Just hold on, mate” he mutters, his voice cracking. He tries to get back up but his strength is gone, the silver bullet finally winning.
“Nana, you should have told me you needed all this! Look at yourself” Felisha fumes, pacing back and forth while Nana sits on the cold floor, trying to clean her wounds.
“Let me help you,” Felisha offers, reaching for the rag Nana’s using.
Nana pulls back sharply, panic flashing through her. “No,” she snaps, shaking her head. Her voice softens immediately, not wanting Felisha to get suspicious. “I mean, I got it. I don’t need help.”
She can’t afford Felisha seeing the mark on her shoulder. The old woman would freak out, maybe even start shouting, and Nana does.t want that kind of expression right now.
Her body feels like it’s on fire, the fever creeping up fast. Her head spins, and her stomach churns with hunger. She hasn’t eaten since yesterday.
“Felisha, please,” Nana mutters weakly, “Just some meds for fever. I’ll lie down here. If you can find me food that’d help too.”
Felisha hesitates, clearly not convinced, but eventually nods. “Fine. Don't dare move. I’ll be back.” Even after taking the medication, the fever refuses to break. Nana's body trembles uncontrollably, her skin clammy and hot. It's like her whole system is shutting down, and she doesn't understand why. She should be calming down, not getting worse.
Restless, she gets up and looks out the window. The moon hangs low, bathing the pack house grounds in pale light. It's dead quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. Something in her instincts tells her to move, like a pull, she can't ignore.
Her mate.
Lowell.
She doesn't know how or why, but she feels him sick, in pain. The connection between them is screaming, urging her to leave. Without thinking about the risks, she slips out of her room, ignoring the fire in her muscles from earlier. She has to find him.
She approaches the side exit of the pack house. Her heart pounds as she spots two guards standing by the door, puffing on cigarettes.
Their eyes scan the area lazily. She waits, hiding in the shadows, her breathing shallow.
When their heads turn back to their smokes, she inches closer, careful not to make a sound.
"I smell someone," one of them says suddenly, sniffing the air.
"Fragrance?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it, I perceive it too."
They turn toward her direction, and panic shoots through Nana's chest. Her blood runs cold. If they catch her here, Marco will fucking kill her.
She freezes, holding her breath, trying to make herself invisible. They step closer, their sharp senses zoning in. Her heart races so loud she's sure they can hear it.
She feels like she's going to melt into the ground as they approach. Her mind spins, desperate to figure out how to get away.