Chapter 8 Punished for a Crime I Didn’t Commit
Meira’s POV
I had worked myself raw that morning, scrubbing floors, washing linens, and cleaning surfaces until my muscles screamed for mercy. My hands were chapped, my arms trembling, and my back ached with every movement. But that was life in the Whitmore household. Work first, whimpers later.
By mid-morning, I was starving. My stomach growled as I pressed a steaming towel to Lord Whitmore’s fevered skin. He lay pale and weak in the sickbed, almost always unconscious. I had been caring for him for years, bathing him, tending to his every need, and yet I hadn’t eaten properly myself.
I glanced around quickly and grabbed some leftover bread and meat, trying to stash it for myself before anyone noticed. A tiny bit of comfort, a stolen morsel to keep me going. But of course… Aunt Elizabeth had eyes everywhere.
“What is this?” she snapped, her voice sharp as broken glass. She had appeared from nowhere, catching me red-handed. Before I could answer, her hands swept over the basket of food, and in one brutal motion, she dumped it all onto me. Hot, greasy, smoldering food seared my skin, and I hissed in pain.
“Aaaaah!” I yelled, fumbling to brush it off, but the pain was intense. The burn stung like fire on my shoulders and chest. My hybrid healing kicked in slowly, leaving red marks that burned even as they began to mend. If I weren’t part wolf, I knew those burns would have left permanent scars.
Claribel and Annabelle tumbled into the room, giggling at my misery. Claribel’s voice dripped with cruel amusement. “Oh, sorry for you, Meira,” she cooed mockingly. “Don’t worry, when I become Luna, I’ll take you to the palace. You’ll be my personal maid. Isn’t that exciting?”
I wanted to snap back. I wanted to scream, curse, or shove them into the fire I was still simmering from. But all I could do was lower my eyes and let the tears fall, hot and bitter, down my cheeks.
Roxy stirred inside me, restless. Run, Meira. Leave. Let them scream, let them rage. Don’t let them break you again.
'No,'I muttered to her. 'If I run, they’ll never let me live. No one in the world would ever accept me… Not even the Moon Goddess would care.'
Her wolf growled softly, nudging me, but I ignored her. I had learned long ago to suppress urgings unless the situation was dire. And this… this was just humiliation, the daily kind I had grown far too accustomed to.
After what felt like an eternity, I finished cleaning myself as best I could, hiding the remnants of the food under my ragged apron. I returned to Lord Whitmore, hoping to escape the twins’ jeers.
I pressed the towel against his forehead again, murmuring, “You’ll feel better soon… Just hang on.”
But when I bent closer to check his pulse, I froze. The steady rhythm I had expected was gone. His chest wasn’t moving.
“No… no, no,” I whispered, shaking him gently. “Lord Whitmore?”
I screamed. A loud, desperate sound that tore from my lungs and echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls like a cruel mockery.
He wasn’t moving. Lord Whitmore lay there, pale and still, the warmth gone from his body, and my chest ached with disbelief and fear. I tried again, calling on my magic, coaxing it, forcing it into him, but it was useless. Nothing.
“Please… no…” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “Wake up, please!”
I shouted again, louder this time, pounding on his chest with trembling hands. My voice cracked, raw and desperate.
Then the door slammed open. Aunt Elizabeth stormed in, flanked by Claribel and Annabelle. Their eyes were sharp, cold, and accusing. Not a flicker of sorrow crossed their faces.
He’s… gone.
I glanced up, hoping to see grief, even a shadow of regret, but there was none. Only anger, sharp and blistering, directed at me.
I wondered why they didn’t care about him. He was their husband and father, yet they showed no emotion.
“You...!” Elizabeth hissed, her hands trembling with fury. “You did this! You’ve killed him!”
I froze, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it might shatter my ribs. “I… I didn’t…” I tried to explain, my voice barely above a whisper, but she wasn’t listening.
“Don’t lie to me, cursed girl!” Claribel spat, stepping forward. “You’ve always been trouble and now look, he’s dead because of you!”
Annabelle joined in with a high-pitched shriek that made my teeth ache. “You… you filth! You brought this on him! It’s all your fault!”
I staggered back, pressing my hands to my face, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “I… I didn’t—”
But words were useless. They didn’t want truth. They wanted someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.
Roxy stirred beneath my skin, low and warning, a growl vibrating through me. They’re wrong. Stay calm. Don’t give them what they want.
But calm was impossible. I felt my magic flare, tiny sparks escaping at my fingertips, and for a moment, the air around me shimmered. I wanted to scream, to make them see reason, to undo what had happened, but I couldn’t. Not even my hybrid powers could bring him back.
“Guards!” Elizabeth finally barked. “Take her! She’s the cause of this tragedy!”
I froze. Guards? Royal pack guards? When did they even arrive? My stomach twisted as the men strode in, their uniforms gleaming under the candlelight. They were tall, solid, and frighteningly calm, and I knew without asking that they didn’t come for comfort; they came for punishment.
“No! Please!” I begged, backing away. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
One of the guards reached for my arm, and I jerked it away instinctively. “I said don’t touch me!”
Another stepped forward, his grip iron-like, holding me steady. “You must come with us, girl. The Alpha King commands it.”
I struggled, my legs trembling under me. “No! You don’t understand! He… he was sick!”
Elizabeth’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “He was perfectly fine until you were near him. You cursed girl! You brought death to our house!”
Roxy growled, the sound low and resonant in my chest. I pressed my hand against my stomach, feeling the familiar stir of the wolf within me, the pulse of instinct and power that had been dormant for too long.
I had no choice but to let the guards take me. My arms were pinned, and I could feel the strength in their grip. Every step I took toward the dungeon felt like walking through fire. I wanted to fight, to scream, to run, but I was trapped.
Claribel and Annabelle followed, smirking, whispering to each other about what would happen next.
They weren’t even concerned they just lost their father; all they cared about was me going through pain. That was what they derived pleasure from.
I didn’t hear the words clearly, only the venom in their laughter.
I tried to steady my breathing, to ground myself, to push past the fear. But it wasn’t just fear. It was disbelief, heartbreak, and the bitter knowledge that my life, my fate, was being rewritten in real time by people who had always hated me.
As the dungeon door loomed closer, I swallowed hard. This wasn’t just punishment. Was this the end of everything I knew? The end of the life I had endured so painfully, the endless days of labor, bruises, and whispered taunts.