**WARNING: The chapter that you're about to read contains content, like punishment in a form of flogging, that you may find unpleasant or troubling. Please read with care.**
“Alexander Claude Carmichael, you have been found guilty of the crime against the treaty, do you have to say in your defense?” the tall woman in black velvet cloak asked. Her pale skin, white hair, and icy blue eyes strangely luminous in the dark dungeon.
Alex twisted in pain as one of the crossbow bolts tore some muscles and nerves on his back when it twisted inside the flesh. But the pain was nothing compared to the silver hooks deep into the flesh of his arms and calves. Chained to the ground with shackles around his hands, he could not stand. An iron collar around his neck with needle spikes pointing inward was preventing him from phasing.
He clenched his jaw. “Fuck your treaty. Fuck the Elders. And fuck you, Viessa.”
Then he heard the deadly whip whistled on the upstroke and in no time, and screamed at the pain that bit into his broad back.
“Very well.” The woman named Viessa, smiled, showing her pointing fangs. “Give this foul-mouthed, impertinent offender 50 lashes.”
Alex’s body trembled with fear. He shut his eyes closed and tried to focus his mind on something else and not the pain that he was about to receive. He thought about *her*, and he held on to the image. His eyes meeting *hers* as *she* smiled above him. He thought about the first time they ever kissed and the first they ever shared their first intimate moment.
“And use the silver whip this time, Malock,” Viessa’s cold voice cut into Alex’s thoughts, and he shivered.
“Yes, Mistress.”
His fists tightened, and his teeth gritted. He would not scream. This time, he would not give them
the satisfaction of hearing the sounds of his suffering that they could easily be mistaken for as remorse. No. There was not a single thing he thought he should feel regretful for. She was his mate. There was no way for him not to fulfill what the moon goddess had planned. In his mind, he did not defy any laws by being with her.
“He needs a tougher sentence. He is, after all, a master lycan,” Viessa’s spoked again.
Soon, Alex could hear the sound of the silver whip, dragging across the cold concrete floor. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he thought his heart would explode any second. The beast in him growled, preparing to take over, but with the collar around his neck, he had to suppress every fiber in his being from shifting. Or he will die.
The first strike immediately screeched a burning line across Alex's back. Fresh blood soon streamed down from the newly opened flesh. But he did not scream nor howl in pain, but only bucked against the shackles.
“With every lash, remember that you brought this upon yourself, master lycan,” he heard Viessa’s said, her voice void of any emotions.
The second stroke made him collapse and squirm on the floor as one of the silver bolts twisted inside his flesh. When the overseer pulled the whip, it tore a muscle off. This then happened again and again and again until enough flesh was stripped from back. The overseer then flipped him over, and he hissed at the scorching pain when his back met the cold, wet floor.
Alex looked like he would pass out anytime soon at the burning poison of silver digging into his flesh. The third strike hooked into the flesh on his face and chest. He shuddered and roared in pain when the overseer violently tore the silver barbs away. He didn’t have time to catch his breath because the cold whip violently penetrated his flesh again, pelting him again and again until he was already fighting to breathe to stay alive.
Then, for a moment, he relaxed into a state of nothingness when the violent lashing had momentarily stopped.
“Did I tell you to give him time to breathe?” Viessa’s voice echoed.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” the overseer said, catching his own breath that somehow put a smile on Alex’s lips.
“Continue,” Viessa gave the order as she took a step back.
Before Alex could even prepare his mind for another round of pure pain, his body jerked as soon as another lash sunk across his bare chest. He clenched his teeth and eyes shut tightly as more lashing had followed. He twisted and turned, nails digging into his palms. When the overseer had obviously taken another moment to catch his breath, Alex took this as a chance to look at Viessa with angry eyes.
Viessa tilted her head slightly and asked, “Yes, Alexander?”
“Enjoy this as much as you can.”
“Hold it.” Viessa held her hand out to the overseer and turned to Alex. “Did you really think I am enjoying this? Do you think I’m enjoying the stench of your blood in my dress? Your father is a good friend of my father. I am not, and will I ever be, enjoying this, you fool.”
Alex only grunted and spat blood on the floor. His breathing was heavy and harsh. And when he didn’t reply, the brutal flogging continued. He tried with all his might to suck in a cry with each whip and only let out a few painful whimpers. The poison from silver was breaking him fast. By the time the overseer had given half of the number of lashes he was supposed to receive, tears were already streaming down his face as he continued to withhold his cries of pain.
“I have to prepare for the meeting.” Viessa walked over to Alex. “Pull him up,” she ordered Malock.
The overseer quickly pulled Alex from the cold floor to face her.
“Look at you…such a waste for such a pretty face. What I pity?” She gave Malock a nod then the overseer tossed Alex back on the floor. “Finish the deed. Bring him to the small dungeon after. He wants to speak to him.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Malock replied.
Alex heard Viessa’s footsteps leaving, which was immediately followed by the sound of a heavy door shutting.
“You heard her,” Alex mumbled between clenched teeth. “Let’s get this over with.”
But surprisingly, Malock did not start beating him right away. He heard the brute’s heavy footsteps until they stopped next to his face on the floor.
“Alexander…”
He opened his swollen eyes and found himself looking at the overseer. And despite his brutish appeal: thick sideburns that lined his square jaws, crooked nose, and countless scars, Malock’s hazel eyes had brought a surprising sense of comfort to Alex.
"This whip will hit the stone walls, but your screaming has to continue." Malock’s voice sounded gruff, but what he just told Alex brought the Lycan's bloody browns together.
“I’m sorry?” Alex breathed out. “I don’t think I quite understand you.”
“Your best friend, Lucas, had saved my sister from those savage rogues once. I am repaying him by beating the crap out of nothing, but you have to react as if I was thrashing your flesh.”
Alex couldn’t believe it. “Really? You would defile the magistrate for Lucas?”
“Not for him. I don’t care about him, or any of your kind, had he not saved my sister. He came to me the other day, asking for a favor.”
“Lucas…”
“But don’t go celebrating just yet because tomorrow, you will be spending time with Seskel and his customized whips.”
Alex smirked. “Well, maybe I’d just have to pray then that Seskel owes Lucas some favor too.”
Malock smiled. “I doubt it. I heard Seskel had drunk too much spoiled blood that he’s gone a little demented.”
“With you, bloodsuckers, I don’t think that there’s such a thing as spoiled blood.”
Malock cracked the whip as hard as he could, only to miss Alex by a mere inch. Then he smiled. “You shall see about that tomorrow.”
Alex growled and hissed. Malock did it once more, only this time, the silver barbs grazed the surface of his skin. His entire body was too sensitive by now that he unleashed a chorus of painful screams. The silver was burning much into his flesh.
Malock continued to beat into nothing with no apology, and Alex continued to cry every time the silver grazed his open wounds until his voice was hoarse. His body trembled with the pain; he thought he might die. But he was too proud to tell the overseer to aim in the opposite direction. He wanted to prove to Malock that he couldn’t be easily weakened, even with the exposed and bleeding flesh all over him. Although, he knew the healing would take time. But he was a lycan from a noble house, so he must show that he couldn’t easily be broken.
By the time Malock was done, Alex had sprawled limply with his blood on the floor. His back was a bleeding mess of gash. He felt disoriented and sick as he breathed in and out slowly.
Malock stopped to look at him before two armored men entered the room. "If you’re lucky and you get out of this shit alive, tell Lucas I’ve paid my debt."
Too weak to utter a reply, Alex just stared at him while the two men carried him out of the room. He was much too tired and weak to care where they were taking him. He closed his eyes this time and just listened to the footsteps and grunts around him. Mental fatigue finally overtook, and his mind shut down.
But it wasn’t long after a creak of the door awakened him. He remained still and listened to the heavy rap of boot heel on the floor. When the footsteps stopped, he slowly forced his eyelids to open. He was surprised to find himself standing up. His bound wrists were lifted over his head. He twisted and was reminded of the shackles securing his wrist to the stone wall. He soon took in his surrounding before acknowledging the presence of another vampire in the smaller dungeon he was now kept in.
"I brought you here to have a little talk," a firm male voice explained. "I know you’re in such terrible pain, but I need you to use every strength you have left in you to focus on our conversation, Alexander.”
Alex blinked rapidly to try and focus on whoever it was talking to him. With so much effort, his vision finally somewhat cleared, and he identified the speaker as a tall man dressed in a maroon ornate coat. His skin was so pale that Alex could see his veins. His shoulder-length black hair that was neatly brushed to the sides, amber eyes, and very calculated mannerism was an easy indication that he was no ordinary vampire.
"Fuck off," Alex whizzed. He was no ordinary lycan either. He was a master lycan and a son of a lycan lord. What they were doing to him now they would, no doubt, have to pay with their own pain and suffering.
"Unlike your sister Collette, you have always been the disobedient one, Alexander," the vampire said, smiling slightly at his audacity given his state. “Too arrogant to follow the rules set by Elders.”
“Yeah. Tell that to the fucking moon goddess, Aleister.”
“That’s Lord Aleister for you!” Lord Aleister backhanded Alex, earning a pained groan from the lycan. “Just like your father, Lord Rāmon, I, too, am a lord. A nobleman. Show some respect.”
“You have to forgive me, Lord Aleister. My mind has the tendency to easily forget things that I don’t really give that much shit,” Alex rasped weakly, jerking away to spit the blood in his mouth.
The lord smiled again in a manner that was unusual for the current situation. "Your brazen disregard for anything that doesn’t interest you is really quite fascinating, Alexander. Need I remind you, though, of the predicament you’ve put your noble family in and the messy―not to mentioned bloodily painful― situation that you have in your hands right now. You might want to start giving more shit, if I were you.”
"Tell that to the moon goddess…" Alex repeated. “I didn’t choose Francine for me.”
Lord Aleister grunted, shaking his head. "Lady Francine is betrothed to Lord Garrett’s only son, Draven."
“Then the moon goddess doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck, I guess.”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that we don’t worship your moon goddess the way you do? We follow different traditions and beliefs. So to make sure we keep the peace amongst ourselves and for our species to survive, the Elders, the first Vampires and Lycans, created The Treaty so we don’t end up destroying each other and the humans, as our food.” Lord Aleister’s explained, his smile vanishing as he assumed a more pointed glare. "I don’t think you need a crash course on The Treaty. You have lived long enough to know it by heart.”
“You’re right about that. But if I to be honest with you, I didn’t really care about it then. And I still don’t.”
“Alexander, Lord Rāmon and I go a long way,” Lord Aleister replied. He turned to a table in a corner then sighed as he turned to Alex once more. “The council will meet next winter solstice again, and your father and mother begged me, and some of the other lords in the council, not to utter a word about your crime when we gather again with The High Chairs next eclipse.”
But Alex didn't have a chance to say what was on his mind when Lord Aleister jammed a needle into his arm.
Shocked, Alex asked, “What did you do?”
"What I had to," the lord replied, looking back at him in satisfaction. “A favor to your father and mother.”
"And what the fuck exactly?" Alex slurred, trying to focus his strength as he glared at the lord, who only grimaced at him. “What did you do to…” he trailed off, no longer able to finish his question when he suddenly experienced another searing pain throughout his body before everything went black.