Chapter 45 Help From An Unlikely Source

Chapter 45 Help From An Unlikely Source
Lucienne's Point of View

As the sound of their retreating footsteps faded into silence, the tension holding my body upright gave way. My legs buckled, and I sank to my knees, the chains rattling softly as my arms hung limply above me. Pain radiated across my back, sharp and relentless, each breath pulling at the torn skin where the silver whip had bitten deep.

For a moment, I allowed myself to feel it all—the anger, the fear, the helplessness. The weight of the situation bore down on me, pressing the air from my lungs. I clenched my fists, forcing my mind to remain clear. I couldn’t let this break me.

“They’ll come for me,” I whispered, my voice cracking against the stillness of the cell. “Marc and Cole will find me.”

I repeated the words like a mantra, willing myself to believe them. Marc and Cole were my mates. They wouldn’t rest until they tracked me down. The wolfsbane might dampen the bonds between us, but they were still there, faint and fragile threads that connected us. Once Clio woke, I could mind-link them. Even if I couldn’t pinpoint their location, the connection should be enough to give them a sense of my proximity.

But for now, Clio was silent, buried beneath layers of wolfsbane-induced suppression. Without her, I couldn’t heal. The silver on my back would possibly leave permanent marks that shouldn’t have been there, and every inch of my body felt heavier and slower.

I leaned against my left shoulder, forcing myself to breathe evenly. When Clio returned—and I had no doubt she would—I could break free. My Lycan’s strength would shatter these cuffs and any lock Elizabeth dared to throw in my path. All I had to do was endure until that moment came.

Time stretched endlessly in the darkness. The only sounds were the distant drip of water and the dull ache of my heartbeat in my ears. I tried to focus, to keep my thoughts from spiralling, but thirst, hunger, pain, and isolation gnawed at me. I muttered to myself soft encouragements that were as much a distraction as they were a lifeline.

Eventually, the quiet was broken by the faint sound of the door unlocking and opening at the top of the stairs. My body tensed, the chains pulling taut as I straightened. Footsteps descended, lighter than before, hesitant.

Michaela.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a food tray. The dim light cast uneven shadows over her face, but I could see the unease in her expression. She avoided my gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line as she approached the cell.

Wordlessly, she knelt and pushed the tray through the narrow gap at the base of the bars. The clink of the metal tray against the stone floor echoed in the silence. With a furtive glance toward the staircase, Michaela reached for a lever mounted on the wall beside the cell. She pulled it gently, and the chains binding my right arm loosened just enough to let me reach the food tray.

I studied her closely, my instincts sharpening. Michaela didn’t look happy to be here. Her movements were stiff, and her posture was tense. I wondered if she’d been dragged into this mess when Elizabeth escaped. Did she regret it now?

“Are you here to gloat?” I asked, my voice hoarse but steady despite the pain coursing through me.

Michaela flinched as if my words had struck her, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. Her expression betrayed a flicker of guilt before she quickly masked it, her gaze darting nervously around the dimly lit cellblock. The faint light cast shadows on her face, but I could see the turmoil in her eyes as she stepped closer to the bars.

“I don’t agree with any of this, Luna,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something almost like regret. She dropped to her knees, bringing herself level with me, though the iron bars still separated us. Her tone was soft, but her words carried an undeniable sincerity that cut through the tension.

The title—Luna. It stirred something within me, a faint flicker of hope in the bleakness of my situation. Michaela wasn’t just speaking out of pity or guilt; the title meant she acknowledged me as her rightful leader. If she saw me that way, there was a chance—no matter how small—that she could be convinced to help.

I kept my gaze locked on hers, my voice low but firm. “If that’s true, Michaela, you know this is wrong. You know this isn’t how things should be.”

She looked down, her hands trembling slightly before folding them tightly in her lap. “I wanted Marc and Cole for myself once,” Michaela admitted, her green eyes filled with conflict. “But I see now that what they feel for you is… beyond anything I could hope for. You’re their true mate. That’s not something I can stand against. Not me, and not Beatrice.” She exhaled shakily, lowering her voice even further. “It’s on me for believing Beatrice when she told me you weren’t fated mates to the Alphas, but I’ll never forgive Elizabeth for forcing me to leave the cell. Or for the things she’s planning.”

Her confession hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. Hearing her say it felt like a small victory in this grim, hopeless cell. The last comment stilled me. “What things?” I asked sharply, though I kept my tone as quiet as hers. Every nerve in my body was taut, waiting for her response.

“Rodney told Elizabeth that the wolfsbane dosage he gave you should keep your wolf asleep for at least a week, but it won’t kill her or you,” Michaela said, her expression tightening. “Elizabeth was angry about that—she hoped it would kill your wolf and weaken your bond with Marc and Cole. But Rodney thinks them feeling your pain might either push them into a rage or force them to consider breaking the bond.”

I swallowed hard, dread twisting in my gut. I had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed was another thing entirely. “What else?” I pressed.

Michaela hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Rodney has… other plans. He told Elizabeth that if the pain doesn’t break them, he’ll… force himself on you.” Her voice broke on the last words, and her cheeks flushed with shame. “He said they’d feel that, too. He’s a monster, and Elizabeth doesn’t even care. She just got angry because—” Michaela stopped herself, but I could see the disgust in her expression.

“Because why?” I demanded.

Michaela’s voice was barely audible. “Because Rodney said you’re beautiful. More beautiful than her. And that enraged her because… she’s been sleeping with Rodney and Dwayne. So has Beatrice. Elizabeth gets Beatrice to join in to make four of them. I refused to join, but I’m also afraid that Rodney or Dwayne will force me.”

I clenched my fists, fighting back the nausea threatening to overwhelm me. Michaela’s trembling confession confirmed that I wasn’t dealing with just a power-hungry lunatic in Elizabeth. I was dealing with someone dangerously unhinged.

Michaela pressed on, her voice trembling with anger. “Elizabeth and Beatrice have been talking. If Marc and Cole don’t reject you soon, they plan to… kill you. They think the twins will be left alive but mateless if you're dead—and Beatrice can step in.”

The words struck me like a blow. My stomach twisted, but I refused to let fear cloud my mind. “Michaela,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “you have to help me. If you’re still part of the pack, you can contact Marc and Cole and let them know where we are.”

She glanced nervously toward the staircase. “We’re too far to mind-link them,” she said hesitantly. “They’re keeping an eye on me, as they don’t trust me—not entirely. I’ll see if I can steal Beatrice’s phone when she isn’t there.”

“Where are we?” I asked urgently. “Do you know?”

She nodded, her voice dropping even lower. “An abandoned warehouse in the human area. It’s been abandoned for a long time and houses a large band of rogues. I’ll try to get word to them. But it’ll take time.”

Her answer was enough to reignite a spark of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Michaela glanced at the tray she had slid under the bars. “Eat everything,” she whispered. “I managed to hide some activated charcoal under the bread. They keep much of it around for themselves if they get poisoned.” Her expression was grim. “If you can get the wolfsbane out of your system faster, you might stand a better chance if they come back.”

I looked down at the tray. The food was pitiful—a piece of stale bread, a bowl of soup that might have been chicken noodles once but now mainly smelled of salt, and a bottle of water. My stomach churned with hunger, but I hesitated, sniffing the food cautiously. There was no scent of wolfsbane, poison, or anything else unusual.

“Thank you,” I said, meeting her gaze.

“Just… survive,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know if I can do more, but I’ll try.”

With that, she turned and hurried back up the stairs, leaving me alone once again. I watched her retreat with a flicker of hope. If Michaela was being honest, maybe my rescue was sooner than I thought.

For now, though, I needed strength. I picked up the bread, finding the hidden tablets beneath it. Activated charcoal wouldn’t cure me entirely, but it might help counteract the wolfsbane enough to let me think more clearly. I swallowed the tablets first, wincing at the disgusting taste. I forced myself to eat every scrap of food she had brought.

As the last bite of bread disappeared, I closed my eyes and sent out a silent promise, hoping they would hear it.

Marc. Cole. I will hold on. Find me.