Chapter 44 Who Would Do This?

Chapter 44 Who Would Do This?
Lucienne's Point of View

The dim light flickered weakly outside my cell, casting jagged shadows on the walls. I inhaled deeply, searching for clues, but my surroundings offered little more than damp air and the acrid tang of rust. Still, faint and fleeting beneath it all, I caught a scent that made my pulse quicken.

It was subtle, just a thread woven through the murk of mildew and stone—a sharp, bitter aroma tinged with something earthy. My senses struggled to place it entirely, dulled as they were by hunger and wolfsbane. But I'd know that scent anywhere: witchcraft.

This wasn't like the warm, herbal scent of Aunt Delilah, the liaison between the Royal Family and the Witch's Council. She wasn't really my aunt, but that was what we called Alice's mum. Delilah's magic smelled of rosemary and lavender, soft and soothing, a presence that felt like home. This was different—harsh, acrid, and wrong. It clawed at my senses, leaving an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

A rogue witch, maybe. Or worse, a Blood Witch.

The thought made my stomach turn. Blood Witches were dangerous, their magic born of pain and sacrifice. While wolfsbane can suppress your inner animal and link to your mates, it isn't permanent unless you overdose and kill your animal or even yourself. 

If a Blood Witch was involved, the suppression of Clio and the bonds between Marc and Cole could be made permanent. Only dark magic could sever those connections so completely.

But why? What did they want with me?

My mind raced through possibilities. Was this an act of revenge, a political ploy, or something else entirely? As a Royal Gamma and twin sister of the heir to the Lycan throne, I had more enemies than I cared to count. This was partly the reason I remained as inconspicuous as possible. Rogues, rival packs, opportunistic councils—all had motives to strike.

But Blood Witches? That was new—assuming they were.

For now, all I could do was wait. Observe. And when the time came, strike.

I had no idea how long I had been sitting here, planning how to escape, when the silence broke. The sharp slam of a door echoed through the stone corridor outside the cell, jolting me from my thoughts. My senses sharpened despite the dull ache in my head and the wolfsbane slowing my reactions. Heavy footsteps followed—three sets, descending the stairs with purpose.

I straightened, pulling at the chains instinctively, testing their strength again even though I knew they'd hold. My muscles tensed, every instinct on high alert as I waited, listening. The footsteps grew louder and closer until the shadowed figures emerged into view.

Two of them I recognised instantly.

Elizabeth. The former Luna of the Howling Moon Pack. Her dark hair was swept back, and she carried herself with the same arrogance that had always made my blood boil. She looked down at me, a cruel smirk tugging at her lips, her eyes alight with malicious satisfaction.

Beside her was Dwayne, the warrior who had proven his lack of character the moment he lost to me in combat. His hulking form filled the narrow space, and his expression twisted with resentment. I met his gaze head-on, my lip curling slightly in disdain.

Well, I now knew the motive—revenge, not just because I was Marc and Cole's fated mate but also because Elizabeth's heinous secrets and plans were uncovered.

"Dwayne," I drawled, my voice hoarse but steady, "still nursing that bruised ego, are you? It's pathetic, really—a grown male throwing a tantrum and going so far as to abduct  someone because he lost to a female."

His face darkened, and he stepped closer, but Elizabeth raised a hand to stop him.

"Careful, Dwayne," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "We wouldn't want her to think you've got something to prove. Again."

I kept my face neutral, refusing to show how much satisfaction her words gave me. I didn't trust Elizabeth, not for a second, but it was clear that her manipulation extended to those who followed her. Dwayne's growl rumbled low in his throat, but he didn't move again.

The third figure stepped forward, drawing my attention. He was a man I didn't recognise, his scent unfamiliar but unmistakably rogue. His appearance was rough—unkempt hair, a scar running down one side of his face, and eyes gleaming with amusement and malice.

But it wasn't just the rogue scent that caught my attention. Beneath it was something else, something sharp and bitter, entwined with the unmistakable signature of witchcraft. My stomach turned as I realised what it meant.

He was working with a Witch.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment too long, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that made my skin crawl. My chains rattled as I moved, straightening my spine and raising my chin. I would not show weakness—not to him or any of them.

"Well, this is a surprise," I said, letting sarcasm drip from my tone as I looked between them. "Elizabeth, Dwayne, and… whoever this… is. What's the occasion? Couldn't resist gloating?"

The rogue grinned, his yellowed teeth showing as he leaned closer, the stench of his breath nearly making me gag. "She's got spirit," he said, his voice rough and gravelly. "I like that."

I locked eyes with him, refusing to flinch or look away. "And you've got a smell," I shot back coldly. "One I'd rather not linger on."

His grin faltered, but he didn't retaliate, simply stepping back with a dark chuckle. Elizabeth, however, seemed pleased by the exchange, her smirk widening as she stepped closer to the bars of my cell.

"You're clever, Lucienne," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "But not clever enough to avoid ending up here."

I stared at her, refusing to rise to the bait. "Enjoy this while you can, Elizabeth," I said, my voice low and steady. "Because when I get out of here—and I will—this little charade will cost you everything."

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

Elizabeth paced in front of the cell, her eyes blazing with self-righteous fury as she spits venom in my direction. "You," she hissed, refusing to call me by name. "You are the reason for all of this. You, nothing more than a Gamma getting above herself, have ruined everything."

I kept my head high, my glare fixed on her. No matter how outrageous her accusations became, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me react.

Her voice rose, sharp and grating, as she continued, "If it weren't for you showing up with your pompous self-righteousness, everything would have gone perfectly. Duncan would be none the wiser about Eloise, and I would still have my position as Luna. Beatrice would be preparing to take my place, and the twins would have done what they were told. But no. You had to meddle! You had to shove your nose where it didn't belong and ruin everything!"

My heart burned with fury, but I remained silent. Her tirade only confirmed what I'd already suspected—Elizabeth would go to any lengths to succeed. She orchestrated Eloise's death, manipulated Duncan, and has now abducted me in a scheme to force Marc and Cole into accepting Beatrice as their chosen mate.

She leaned closer, her face twisted with malice. "The only way you leave this place alive is if Marc and Cole reject you," she sneered. And when they do, they'll finally see reason and make Beatrice their Luna. The pack will prosper under her guidance—not you."

I bit back a laugh. As if that would ever happen. Marc and Cole's bond with me was unshakable. Elizabeth's plan was doomed to fail; deep down, she realised it.

Straightening, she turned to the rogue at her side. "Rodney, I want her to pay for her sins," she said coldly, gesturing toward me with a dramatic flourish.

Rodney stepped forward, a cruel grin spread across his scarred face. From behind his back, he drew a whip with silver-tipped strands, the metal glinting faintly in the dim light. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to meet his gaze with defiance.

Elizabeth cackled like a woman possessed, her laughter echoing through the damp cell. "Let's see how long you keep that bravado, Gamma," she taunted.

Rodney ducked beneath the chains, binding my arms and circling behind me with deliberate slowness. Once in the air, the whip cracked, the sharp sound slicing through the silence. My muscles tensed, but I refused to show fear.

The first strike came swiftly, the silver-tipped strands biting into my back.

Pain exploded across my skin as the metal cut deep, the faint smell of blood mingling with the damp air. I grit my teeth, holding back a cry. I won't give them the satisfaction.

Another lash followed, and then another, each one drawing fresh lines of fire across my back. The silver was supposed to slow my healing, its poison seeping into my skin and dragging my natural resilience to a crawl. Even without Clio, it didn't affect me as it would a Wolf-Shifter. Despite this, the pain is still sharp, each and every strike a reminder of my vulnerability.

But I remind myself these wounds won't scar forever; they won't break me. Elizabeth's efforts to weaken me are futile, a desperate attempt to assert control she doesn't have.

Her laughter grows louder with each lash, her glee at my suffering making her look more deranged than ever. "Do you feel that, Gamma?" she mocks.

"Do you feel what it's like to be powerless?"

I refuse to answer. Instead, I lift my head, letting my defiance shine through the pain. I will endure. I will survive. And when the time comes, Elizabeth and her accomplices will learn precisely how dangerous I can be.

She turned sharply, her heels clicking against the stone floor as she motioned for the rogue and Dwayne to follow her.

The three disappeared back up the stairs, leaving me alone in the damp, dark cell. I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest easing just slightly.