The room fell completely silent.
Eyes shifted from the shattered glass on the floor to Lucian, who stood frozen in place, his eyes locked on Elara with a look so cold it could've pierced through steel. He looked at her as if she were something vile under his shoe, something that didn't deserve to breathe the same air.
Elara whimpered beneath him, struggling desperately to free her hand pinned under the heel of his boot. The jagged shards dug deeper into her flesh with every passing second, embedding themselves like tiny blades. Blood seeped out in dark, slow trickles, painting the polished floor beneath her in streaks of red.
Still, Lucian didn't move.
He didn't lift his foot.
Rosaline watched the scene unfold with a pleased glint in her eyes. She didn't bother hiding her smirk. This...this was exactly how it should be. Any girl foolish enough to attract Lucian Ashborne's attention needed to end up like this—bleeding, broken, and begging at his feet.
Elara gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks as the pain intensified. Her hand felt like it was on fire, like the glass had fused into her skin. She pulled and writhed, but Lucian pressed down even harder.
There was a strange feeling in his chest. The moment his eyes had locked with hers...those damn eyes, something had stirred inside him. A ripple. An ache. His wolf shifted uneasily, as if recognizing something he didn't.
And he hated it.
All he wanted to feel toward a wolfless girl like her was disgust. Contempt. But her tears, her pain, the way her lips trembled and her body quaked, it made something inside him feel… satisfied.
And that satisfaction filled him with rage.
He ground his heel in deeper.
How dare she?
How dare she make him feel anything but hatred?
Finally, with a rough breath, Lucian pulled his foot back.
Elara gasped sharply and snatched her hand toward her chest. The skin was torn, glass buried in multiple places, both large and tiny cuts dripping with blood. Her hand looked ragged, mangled—barely recognizable.
Tears continued to fall as she cradled it to her chest, trying to hide her agony. Every nerve screamed in pain, but she refused to let out another sound. She wanted to scream at them, to lash out, to make every one of them pay for standing there and watching her suffer but she knew better.
Speaking up would only worsen things.
Even if her strength multiplied a hundred times over, she was no match for an Alpha-in-training like Lucian.
When she dared to look up, she found him staring down at her with icy disdain. No regret. No pity.
Only contempt.
And that broke her more than the wounds ever could.
Lucian suddenly stepped forward, grabbing her face with one large hand. His grip was rough, unkind, fingers digging into her skin as he forced her to meet his gaze.
Her breath hitched as their eyes met again.
Pain. Heartache. Humiliation.
That was all she could feel.
"Wolfless," he spat the word like it was poison. "You should know your place. The only reason you're still breathing after that disgraceful stunt is because your father is the Beta. If not, I'd have ended your pathetic existence long ago."
Then he shoved her face away from him like she was nothing.
Elara stumbled backward and fell to the floor with a painful thud. Her body, weakened by the blood loss and trauma, couldn't even cushion the fall. Her limbs trembled beneath her as she lay sprawled out like a discarded doll.
"Get this trash out of here before she ruins the rest of the celebration," Rosaline snapped, sneering. "I don't want her cursed blood near the wine."
"Gladly," Mona said with a smirk.
Two nearby omegas moved swiftly, grabbing Elara by the shoulders. She winced as they dragged her out of the hall, her injured hand limp at her side.
Once outside, the omega males flung her down roughly onto the cold stone steps.
Mona followed them out, her eyes blazing with cruel delight. She looked down at Elara like she was nothing more than dirt beneath her feet.
"Maybe now you'll remember your place, mutt," she sneered. "Keep your nose low and your mouth shut if you want to survive here."
With a final glare, she turned on her heel and walked away, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.
Elara didn't move.
She stayed there for a long moment, crumpled on the ground like a broken bird. Her whole body throbbed. Her hand was in agony, but her chest...her chest hurt worse. It felt like something inside her was splintering apart.
Tears blurred her vision. She wiped them away with her good hand and forced herself to sit up. Her face was pale, but her expression was resolute.
She couldn't stay like this.
She had no wolf. No self-healing. Her wounds wouldn't close on their own like everyone else's. If she didn't get medical help soon, she knew infection and scarring would follow.
With gritted teeth and trembling limbs, Elara forced herself up and stumbled toward the pack hospital.
Each step was agony, her hand pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. But she kept walking, dragging herself through the corridors until she reached the infirmary at the edge of the packhouse.
She pushed open the door and entered, collapsing weakly into the chair nearest the entrance.
The room belonged to the only person in the entire pack who had ever shown her kindness.
Maria Valary.
Her mother's best friend. The pack doctor. And the closest thing Elara had left to family.
"Elara!" Maria gasped, rushing toward her as soon as she caught sight of her.
She took one look at Elara's hand and paled. "Oh, my poor child. What happened to you?" she asked urgently, already guiding her toward the exam table.
"I… I dropped a drink on Lucian by accident," Elara whispered, her voice raw and hoarse. "Then… this."
Just saying it aloud made her heart clench. Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung again.
Maria gently took her injured hand and examined the embedded shards, tears forming in her own eyes. "Lucian? The Alpha's son did this to you?"
Elara nodded silently, biting her lip to keep the sobs inside.
Maria had seen Elara's affection for Lucian since childhood. She knew that despite how distant he had become, Elara had always harbored something for him, a quiet hope. But this? This kind of cruelty from him… Maria knew the wounds to her heart ran deeper than the ones on her hand.
"Sweetheart," she whispered gently, "I'll need to remove the shards one by one. It's going to hurt, but we have to do it."
Elara nodded numbly, not even reacting as Maria began to work.
The pain was sharp...fiery with every tug but Elara barely flinched. She simply stared at her hand, watching as glass was pulled from her flesh, red lines replacing the spots where they once sat. Her mind felt blank, but her chest ached with something deeper, darker. A pain beyond anything physical.
Once the wounds were cleaned and bandaged, Maria handed her a painkiller. Elara took it silently.
Maria's heart broke as she saw her so quiet, so lost.
She pulled Elara into a gentle embrace, and the girl collapsed against her without resistance.
"Aunt Maria," Elara whispered, burying her face into her shoulder. "Am I really just… a burden? I wish I had died instead of my mom."
Maria clutched her tighter.
"No, Elara. Don't say that. You are not a burden. Your mother gave her life to protect you because she loved you. She did what every mother would do...without hesitation. And she'd want you to live bravely. She'd want you to honor her by surviving."
Elara sniffled, pulling back slightly, her eyes red and puffy.
"But Aunt… what's left in my life to be brave for? Everything feels pointless."
Maria looked at her with a firm, loving gaze. "You be brave for yourself, Elara. You don't need anyone else's permission. And besides…" she added with a small smile, brushing back a lock of hair from Elara's forehead, "the Moon Goddess still has plans for you. Just wait. Any day now, she'll send you your prince."
Elara gave a weak laugh, blinking back tears.
"A king, rather," she said softly.