Elara's POV
The pain in the Iron Claw Pack was familiar.
Predictable.
Bearable.
I knew when it would come, how it would come, and how long I would have to endure it before it ended. Pain had rules here. Cruel ones but rules nonetheless.
But what if they were sending me somewhere worse?
Somewhere where pain had no pattern.
No limit.
No mercy.
The thought wrapped around my heart like a tightening noose.
I lay curled on the cold floor of my room, my body still aching from Lyra's kicks, my throat raw from Father's hands. Tears soaked into the thin bedding beneath me as silent sobs tore through my chest.
I had truly believed foolishly that obedience would save me.
That if I did everything they asked… if I spoke softly, moved quietly, endured endlessly… the pain would lessen.
Instead, I was being sold.
Handed over like a burden no one wanted.
Forced to marry a man Lyra Vale refused to marry.
If he were kind… if he were gentle… if he were even tolerable Lyra would be running into his arms right now, her laughter echoing through the halls as always.
But she wasn't.
I was.
Because they were selling me off to a beast, someone that will make me wish I had died here in iron claw pack, someone that will make me live a life worst than hell. A Fate Worse Than Chains. So I thought.
Because in their eyes I was the only one deemed fit to suffer.
Slowly, painfully, I forced myself to sit up. My limbs trembled as I stood and walked toward the bathing chamber. The water was cold, biting against my bruised skin, but I welcomed it. The sting reminded me I was still alive.
Still breathing.
Still mine if only barely.
When I finished, I dressed in the only beautiful thing I owned.
A dress I had stitched together in secret over the years, using scraps of Lyra's discarded gowns. Fabric she had grown tired of. Fabric that once brushed her perfect skin.
On me, it was patched, imperfect… but it was mine.
The wedding gown they had brought lay untouched on the bed.
White. Luxurious. Mocking.
In fourteen years, this was the only kindness the Iron Claw Pack had shown me.
Only because they were selling me off to a fate unknown.
I stared at the gown for a long moment before turning away. I am not putting on this gown niether am I going to marrythat man tonight.
The thought struck me with sudden clarity.
I couldn't go from prison to dungeon.
I couldn't survive another lifetime of suffering under a different name, in a different pack.
If I stayed, I would break.
If I left… I might die.
But at least death would be mine.
I had to take my destiny into my own hands.
Heart pounding violently, I slipped out of my room and into the hallways of the pack house. Everywhere bustled with activity guards, servants, unfamiliar faces. The air was thick with anticipation and celebration.
It felt wrong.
Like they were preparing a feast atop a grave.
I kept to the shadows, moving carefully until I reached the back exit. The cool night air brushed against my face as I stepped outside and stared at the open field beyond the pack grounds.
Freedom lay just past it.
Or death.
But if I left now… where would I go?
The question hit me hard.
Anywhere is better as long as I'm alive.
Should I go rogue?
A bitter laugh bubbled in my chest.
I wasn't strong enough. Rogues survived on brutality and power. I had neither. I had learned to endure, not to fight.
What am I going to do?
"There you are."
The rough voice shattered my thoughts.
I froze.
Slowly, dread crawling up my spine, I turned toward the sound.
Rowan Vale.
Alpha Aldrich's son.
Everyone knew what he was.
Everyone whispered about the women who avoided his path… the ones who didn't escape fast enough. The bruises. The silence. The shame.
My stomach twisted violently.
"I've been searching for you," he said, stumbling closer, the strong stench of alcohol clinging to him. "I came to make sure you were getting ready for the wedding."
His lips curled into a grin that made my skin crawl.
"But you were nowhere to be found. So I thought… why not look for you myself?"
Fear flooded my veins.
I stepped back instinctively as he advanced, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Were you thinking about running away?" he chuckled darkly. "Come on, Elara. You can't even last a minute outside pack territory."
He spread his arms mockingly.
"You'd be dead before you ever taste freedom."
He stopped a few feet away, his eyes dragging slowly over me.
Then he whistled.
"Wow," he said softly. "You look… beautiful tonight."
My breath hitched as his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
I cried out, pain exploding across my scalp.
"Perhaps," he murmured, leaning closer, his breath hot against my face, "I can have a taste of you before your so-called husband does."
He laughed a loud, unhinged sound that echoed through the field.
"Don't touch me!" I struggled, clawing at his wrist, terror surging through me.
He shoved me hard.
I hit the ground painfully, the cold earth knocking the air from my lungs. Before I could crawl away, he loomed over me, pinning me down with brutal strength.
Panic consumed me.
I screamed.
I kicked.
I fought with everything left in me but it wasn't enough.
As we both struggled.
He tried undressing me while I struggled to keep my dress intact and also break free from he's grasp.
Tears streamed down my face as despair swallowed me whole.
This was it.
This was how it ended.
But what happened next shocked me.
I saw him flying a few meters away from me.
What had just happened?