The sound of the long whip contacting skin filled the air — sharp, brutal, burning. Even louder were the cries of the man at the end of the whip, his screams were deafening, feral, and blood-gutting.
The sight of him was worse than the sound he made. He was battered and bloodied, sweat glistening against the midday sun, and from where I stood, I could see his skin tear off little by little as the whip pelted it, licking greedily and leaving behind long, red gashes that nauseated me to no end.
A complete brute.
It was what Callan had called Alexander, and it truly was who he was. He was shirtless, the whip in his left hand, his muscle contracting with every motion, tightening and releasing as he brought the lash up and down the man’s back, each stroke causing me to wince.
I wished I could look away. I wanted to look away, but my gaze was fixed on the scene before me even though I was trembling and my stomach felt heavy with disgust. Bile rose in my throat, clogging it. My chest had tightened, and standing here, watching this, was all I could do because I knew if I dared move, attempted to take a step, I would collapse.
Other than me, two warriors stood by the side watching with expressionless looks on their faces. They didn't seem bothered by it, not the noise or sight, and I couldn't blame them. They were likely used to this ruthlessness, but I wasn't. I'd never seen anything like this before, and it made me want to crawl out of my skin, tear out my hair, and break my nails into tiny pieces.
This was happening because of me.
Alexander had forced me here and made me watch this, and without saying, I knew he was threatening me. The man at the end of the whip was one out of the four warriors that belonged to my pack. They had been sent with me at the finalization of the treaty and had been living among the domestic staff that inhabited Alexander’s massive home.
The man was suffering because of me. Alexander couldn't lash out at me the way he would have loved to, and he was making me watch him do it to someone affiliated with me.
Dimitri was one of the few people living here who cared about me. On nights when I was tormented by recurring nightmares, he had sat with me outside by the stables, and we’d stared quietly into the night, listening to the crickets of the dark and speaking with only our thoughts. He was like family to me, and Alexander knew that, and it was why he was being punished instead of me.
The sound stopped all at once, finally. Dimitri’s head was stooped, and he leaned forward heavily against the pole he had been tied to, his eyes shut, and I hoped with everything in me that he wasn't dead.
My eyes drifted to Alexander, one of the two warriors had handed him a towel, which he was currently using to wipe his head and neck, his eyes on me as he took deliberate slow steps towards me, his stride every inch predatory, and it heightened my fear.
He was going to kill me.
It was the only thought that reverberated in my head as I watched him. He was going to kill me before letting someone else have me, and I fought back the whimper that threatened to come out just as he reached me.
He grinned at me. “It is a good thing you came to witness this, Sophia. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
I could only stare at him. I was speechless down to my core.
His eyes searched mine. “No?” he asked. “I’d thought you'll enjoy knowing what I am capable of. After all, we are soon to be mated.”
He wasn't giving up.
He was never going to give up.
And his hand shot forward suddenly to grab me, his large palm encircling my slender neck and squeezing it. My head swooned, my chest tightened, and it felt like it was going to burst open any second now. I could feel my eyes widening with every passing second. My frantic hands reached out to scratch and pull at his hold, but it didn't for a second wane, not until I began to see black dots and my legs wobbled.
I collapsed to the floor at his feet as soon as he let me go, allowing myself to take in a large gulp of air, gulping and swallowing it hungrily. Alexander crouched down to my level. I could see obvious as the daylight the insanity that was depicted in his eyes.
“Every lash was for the number of times I had thought about you and Callan, his hands on yours, his eyes on your body, one that belongs to me. Tell me, do you think you could ever live a good life with him?” His hands reached out to stroke my hair softly. “There is no one, Sophia, absolutely no one on Earth that could love you half as much as I do.”
I choked back a cry, watching him with scared eyes. “This isn't love,” I managed.
His lips curled in a cruel smile. “Love is whatever I choose it to be. It is a subjective word, don't you agree? And if my love should come at the cost of your life, then so be it.”
“You are breaking the conditions attached to the treaty,” I reminded him. He couldn't do this. He shouldn't be doing this.
He laughed—a harsh, hollow sound came out. “Who cares about some stupid pact two old men made? I am the only family you have, and you remember that while you plan on going with someone else, remember that I am capable of killing you without blinking an eye.”
It was either I stayed with him, or he killed me. It was quite straightforward.
His lips brushed my ear when he spoke his next words. “And if you think Callan would be saving you from me, then you have to be the most mentally impaired person to have ever existed. Sweetheart, just like you and I, Callan is to be mated to someone else, someone he loves more than life itself.”
I belong to another.
Alexander patted my head before walking away, leaving me to reel in his words. While he had been talking to me, Dimitri had been untied and was currently being led away by the two warriors towards the infirmary.
'You don't believe him, right?' my wolf asked. 'We have to remain strong if we are going to escape his prison; he's just trying to get into your head.'
But I ignored her and trudged my way back into the house. I went past the gardens and headed towards the long hallway that led to the backdoor of the kitchen. My head was a complete mess, a maze that I tried to escape from, but its clutches held on strongly, pulling me back into its abyss and forcing me to listen.
I stopped abruptly, the smell hitting my nostrils even before I saw him, his fascinating fragrance making its way past my nose and filling my head, fighting back all other thoughts and threatening to swallow me whole with its illusion.
Callan appeared next, his strides graceful and regal, depicting him for everything he was. I stood and watched him, waiting for him to reach me, and when he did, I bowed to him in greeting.
“You don't have to do that,” came his reply, his voice yet again sending tingles in me. I wondered if I was ever going to get used to their richness, and I immediately reminded myself I didn't have to.
I rose and met his eyes, and when he opened his mouth to say something, he stopped. The icy blue of his eyes darkening with fury as they trailed past my face and settled on my neck. His hands grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me closer, his gaze running through my skin, and I could feel the anger radiate from him.
I shut my eyes even before he said anything, but when he did, his words came out slow, lethal, and dangerously calm.
“Who did this to you?”