Lydia's POV
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed teenage girls and women dressed in ragged clothes sprawled across the cold, dirty floor of the cell. A wave of despair washed over me. "Why am I here?" I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling.
Carefully stepping around the sleeping bodies, I made my way to the iron door. Gripping the rusted bars, I tried to push it open, but it was locked tight.
"Help!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the damp walls. Fear clawed at my chest as I longed for the comfort of my family.
"Will you shut your mouth?!" a harsh voice snapped.
I turned to see a tall girl with scarred features and a scowl that sent chills down my spine. Her rough demeanor made me flinch, but I quickly composed myself.
"Be calm," Delia's soothing voice urged in my mind, helping steady my nerves.
The girl's intense stare made my skin crawl, but I met her gaze with defiance. She rose abruptly, grabbing my clothes with enough force to almost tear them.
"Listen, little kid," she hissed, her breath rancid. "Don't push your luck here. You provoke me, you face my wrath."
A shaky breath escaped my lips as I summoned my strength. With a swift shove, I pushed her away. She stumbled, shock flashing across her face, but her surprise quickly morphed into rage.
She lunged at me, knocking me to the ground with a painful thud. My back screamed in protest as she rained punches down on my face, leaving it bruised and swollen.
Fueled by desperation, I sank my teeth into her hand. She let out a guttural howl, jerking back as blood trickled from the bite.
Panting, I scrambled to my feet, my head pounding with pain. Her eyes gleamed dangerously as she prepared to strike again, but suddenly the iron door creaked open.
Before she could attack, a guard moved with lightning speed, injecting her with a substance that rendered her unconscious. She collapsed onto the ground like a broken doll.
The guard's grip on my wrist was unyielding as he dragged me out of the cell. His voice, rough and irritated, broke the silence.
"You two got into a fight, huh?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing at me.
I braced myself for further punishment, but his expression softened inexplicably. "I see you're new here," he muttered, releasing my wrist. Relief flooded through me.
"Why is your wolf so strong, yet you let her bully you?" he questioned, his words sending a jolt of shock through my body.
My wolf? Strong? But I hadn't even transformed yet. How could that be true?
I remained silent, avoiding his gaze, unsure of how to respond.
"Follow me," he ordered.
I obeyed, trailing behind him as we passed countless cells filled with sorrowful faces. The air was thick with misery.
When we finally exited the prison, the cold breeze struck me, making me shiver. My damp, tattered clothes clung to my body, worsening the chill. I wrapped my arms around myself, wondering what fate awaited me in this strange, merciless world.
The guard's voice was firm as he declared, "I'll send you to work in the royal kitchen."
He stood still for a few moments, as if lost in thought. Suddenly, a woman in her mid-forties appeared, her expression cold and impassive. "Change her clothes and put her to work in the kitchen," he instructed curtly.
The woman gave a slight nod and turned to me with a commanding tone. "Follow me."
Without sparing me another glance, she walked ahead. I trailed behind, my body trembling as the cold seeped into my bones. My teeth chattered, but I fought to stay upright.
We finally reached a detached building. Inside, the warmth provided a brief reprieve from the biting chill. She handed me a simple uniform and undergarments. "Change into these," she ordered.
I obeyed, slipping out of the damp cloth and into the plain attire. The fabric clung awkwardly to my skin, but at least it was dry. The woman didn't wait for me to finish before leading me to the kitchen. The rich aroma of spices and simmering meals wafted through the air, making my empty stomach growl in protest.
"What's your name?" she asked flatly, her voice devoid of warmth.
"Lydia," I replied softly.
She nodded but corrected me coldly. "You're now Obryn Lydia."
The weight of those words hit me like a blow. Obryn. A slave. My throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. I bit my lip, desperate to maintain composure, but she noticed my struggle and let out a humorless chuckle.
Grabbing my chin, she forced me to meet her eyes. "You're an obryn of this pack now. Know your place here. Misbehave, and you might get killed."
I swallowed hard and nodded silently.
"Start working. Wash the dishes," she commanded, her tone final.
I approached the pile of dirty plates, joining a group of timid girls whose eyes remained downcast. I fought back tears as I plunged my hands into the soapy water, scrubbing dish after dish. Time passed in a blur of aching muscles and relentless work.
Hours later, my back throbbed from bending over for so long. I groaned as I straightened, desperate for a moment's reprieve. Finding a secluded corner, I squatted down, tears spilling freely down my cheeks.
The reality of my situation hit me harder than ever. humiliated, and marked as a slave, I silently wondered if I'd ever escape this nightmare.
" hello .. why are you crying?" came a calm voice, I looked up trying to see who it was but the tears blurred my eyes, I clean my tears and I could clearly see her , she was among the girls who was washing dishes with me earlier.
" obryn Mia " she introduced herself with a smile and offered her hand to raise me up , I
hesitated for a while before finally stretching my hand and she raise me up .