Eliza'S POV
The air in the dungeon was a physical thing, a thick, wet shroud that smelled of old straw, rust, and the faint, coppery tang of blood from long-forgotten prisoners. It clung to my skin, a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the slow-burning terror in my gut.
I huddled on a rough-hewn stone bench, the chains around my wrists not iron, but something heavier, something that felt wrong against my skin. They were silver, i'd been told with grim satisfaction by the guard who clamped them on. For a whore, they said. The accusation was so absurd i hadn't even fought it. Shock had rendered me numb.
Seducing Lucas. The very thought turned my stomach. My husband's brother, with his too-familiar hands and eyes that lingered where they shouldn't. He was a serpent, all charming smiles in the light and venomous whispers in the dark. And now, he had convinced them all and now he was back to taunt me.
He looked impeccable, as always. His doublet was fine velvet, his boots polished to a high shine. He carried a tray with a loaf of bread and a cup of water, the picture of compassionate concern.
"Eliza," he said, his voice a silken mockery of warmth. "I brought you something. You must be… parched."
He set the tray on the floor just outside my reach, a cruel little game. He straightened up, surveying me with a predator's gaze. I felt stripped bare, not by desire, but by his utter contempt.
"Get out," I whispered, my voice hoarse from disuse and unshed tears.
"Now, is that any way to speak to your concerned brother-by-law?" he chided, taking a step closer. The torchlight cast shifting shadows across his sharp features. "I came to see if you've… reconsidered your story. It would go easier for you if you just admitted the truth."
My head snapped up. "The truth? The truth is that you are a lying, venomous coward. The truth is you forced yourself on me and when you got caught , you decided to destroy me to save your own pathetic pride!"
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but his smile remained. "Such fire. Such passion. It's no wonder poor Xavier struggles to control you. It's the animal in you, my dear. It makes you irrational. It makes you crave things a proper woman shouldn't." his words burned deeper than the welts on my skin but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing my distress.
My hands clenched into fists, the silver chains biting into my wrists. A strange heat began to prickle under my skin, a flush of anger so intense it felt like a fever. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare pathologize your own depravity. And leave my husband out of it!
" I should?" he laughed, a short, ugly sound. "Then where is he? Eliza. In the end, he believes the word of his brother over the whims of his barren wife. A wife, might I add, whose origins are… murky at best. A weak human with no family, oh sorry I forgot you do have a family but they sold you, isn't it?
The words hit their mark , exploiting my deepest insecurities. The heat within me grew, spreading through my veins like liquid fire. My senses, always sharp, began to heighten unbearably. I could smell the pomade in his hair, the stale wine on his breath, the lie that festered in his heart. It was overwhelming.
"You're a disease, Lucas," I snarled, and my voice was lower, rougher than she intended. "You infect everything you touch.
"I've saved it!" he snapped, his composure finally cracking. He took another step forward, now well within my reach had i been free. "I've saved my brother from a monster! From a creature who doesn't know her place! You think you can just waltz in here with your wild beauty and your defiant eyes and change centuries of tradition? You are a powerless human Eliza.
The word 'human' echoed in the small space, seeming to vibrate in the very air. The fever in my blood spiked. My bones ached with a deep, throbbing pain i'd never felt before. It was a pain that felt… familiar. Ancient.
"I am more of a woman than you will ever be a man," I ground out, every word an effort. My vision was starting to swim, the edges tinged with a faint, amber light. "You had to fabricate a story to get rid of me because you knew you could never have me. Your weakness is your own. Your inadequacy is your own. Don't you ever project your filth onto me."
His face contorted in pure rage. He lunged forward, not to hit me, but to grip my chin, his fingers digging cruelly into my jaw. The touch of his skin was a brand.
"You will confess," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "You will get on your knees and beg me, the Alpha's forgiveness for seducing me. You will admit you are a lying, wanton little bitch, and then maybe, just maybe, they pack will exile you instead of tearing your throat out."
His scent flooded my nostrils—anger, ambition, malice. It was the trigger.
The world fractured.
The pain in my bones exploded into a white-hot agony of breaking and re-forming. A guttural, inhuman roar tore from my throat, a sound that was nothing i had ever made before. Lucas's eyes widened in abject, primal terror. He stumbled back, releasing me as if burned.
I convulsed, falling from the bench onto the cold stone floor. I was aware of the sound of tearing fabric as my body… changed. The silver chains, once cold and dead on my wrists, now seared into my flesh like white-hot brands, the scent of my own burning skin filling the air, mingling with the overwhelming scent of my own fear and his.
I heard Lucas scream, a high-pitched, terrified sound that was immensely satisfying.
My hands—no, they weren't hands anymore—clawed at the stone. My perspective shifted, my vision sharpening to an impossible degree. I could see every pore on Lucas's petrified face. The world was a symphony of smells, each one distinct and overwhelming.
The pain was receding, replaced by a power so vast, so raw, it was terrifying. I tried to speak, to demand what was happening, but all that came out was a deep, rumbling growl that vibrated through my soul.
I looked down. Massive, fur-covered paws where my hands had been. Sharp, black claws scraped against the stone.
Lucas was scrambling backward, fumbling for the door, his mouth open in a silent scream of horror. The tray of bread and water clattered forgotten.
I tried to stand, my new body awkward and powerful. I threw her head back and a howling sound of pure, undiluted rage,pain and betrayal ripped from my lungs and echoed through the dungeon, a sound meant to be heard under a full moon, not trapped in a stone cage.
It was the sound of my innocence shattering.
It was the sound of my unknown wolf.