Maggie dabbed Lyra's sweat-soaked forehead with a trembling hand. The girl's body, swaddled in furs and shivering despite the stifling air, hardly looked alive. Her lips had split in half a dozen places and bled slow, dark lines down her chin. Her hair clung to her skull, limp and lifeless, as if even that had given up hope.
The pack healer knelt beside the bed, carefully inspecting the festering wounds that marred Lyra's arms, back, and legs. When he pressed a thin-tipped herbal stick into the largest of the sores, the wound hissed, spitting pus and a raw, angry odor. He made no comment as he applied tinctures, only wiped his instruments and set them down on a blood-stained napkin.
Alpha Knox Blackwood paced the cramped servant chamber, his boots striking the stone floor hard enough to echo. Every few strides, he would clench and unclench his fists, or cast a sidelong glance at Lyra's motionless form. The silver chains were gone, but the marks they left remained, swollen and ugly.
"She is malnourished," the healer finally said after peeling back Lyra's eyelids. "She has been starved for too long."
"Starved?" Knox asked, his brows furrowing in confusion as he glanced over to his brothers. But he did not comment further on that. "How come she has so many wounds and still lives? Is there nothing to be done to wake her sooner?"
The healer shook his head, not meeting Knox's eyes. "No, Alpha. If she is forced awake before her body recovers, she may not survive. Her body is spent. We must first restore her strength." He wiped more pus from her wounds. "The wounds fester with infection, and her wolf—" He hesitated, as if wary of saying anything that might reflect poorly on the girl's captors. "—her wolf is too weak to heal her."
Knox cursed under his breath and dragged a hand through his long hair, leaving it standing in wild, uneven locks. "Pathetic," he muttered.
Kalem only observed, leaning in the darkened corner with his arms folded. His features were emotionless, but there was worry buried deep in his green eyes.
Kade stood by the shuttered window, his back to the room. He had not said a word since entering, but the tension in his shoulders was loud enough to fill the space. He knew he was the one that gave the order for Lyra to be put in the cell. The thought of it made his skin crawl with something other than disgust.
"Then you will make her well," he ordered, his tone cold enough to chill the air as he turned to face them. His green eyes flickered with a dangerous light as he added, "She must be able to stand on her own. After all, she still has a lot to go through."
Maggie's head snapped up at his words, her mouth opening as if to protest. But one look at the Alpha's face silenced her. She lowered her eyes and focused back on her task.
The healer, who had attended to the aftermath of many such rituals, recognized the note of finality in the Alpha's voice. He bowed his head and resumed tending Lyra's wounds.
Without another word, Kade turned sharply on his heel. "I have a council to attend," he said, dismissing them all. The matter was closed, at least to him.
Knox lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Lyra's still face. He pressed his lips into a thin line and made a sound deep in his throat before following his elder brother out.
Kalem walked to Lyra's bedside and studied her pale, unconscious face with a slight furrow in his brow. Unlike his brothers, he did not say anything. He simply watched as his mind cataloged her every breath and every tremor. Then, silent as a shadow, he too slipped out of the chamber.
—
The grand council room was already packed and alive with noise by the time the triplets entered. Every Alpha from the twelve Northern packs and their sex slaves had gathered. The vaulted ceiling had the different pack banners of each pack, with their sigils flapping in the air.
Some slaves moved quietly along the edges, pouring wine into goblets and keeping their eyes lowered to the floor. Some pleasured their masters, while the others just sat at their masters' feet.
At the center stood a massive oak table, worn smooth by centuries of debates and wars planned across it. The Alphas of the twelve Northern packs were already seated, and their voices rose in heated conversation.
When the heavy doors swung open and the Cerberus Alphas strode in with Beta Frederick Gareth trailing behind them, silence fell like a grave.
The Cerberus Alphas took their seats calmly and faced the suddenly quiet council.
"To what do we owe this summon?" Kade asked, his piercing green eyes scanning the entire room.
Alpha Igla, the man whose greed was almost as large as his ego, rose from his seat, pushing away his slave, whose head had been bobbing up and down his length. He tucked himself in and stared pointedly at Kade.
His dark eyes glittered with veiled accusation as he spread his hands. "Brothers," he began, his voice carrying easily through the chamber, "we are gathered, but I see no justice yet."
The others gathered around nodded their agreement. It gave Alpha Igla the courage to continue, knowing that he had the support of others.
"Blackwood, you are called to answer for your violation of the Hollowing ceremony. Where is the girl? Why have you not presented her for proper Hollowing?"
"We owe you nothing, Igla," Knox gritted. "Our mouths were not filled with water when we declared her ours in front of you all a few days back."
Mikhail scoffed. "Come on, Alphas. We all know how much you despise the Thorne wench. You claimed to accept her to prevent her just punishment. You have no intention of keeping the traitor's sister as a mate. That brings us to the question. Why do you protect her?"