Ava was beyond broken. Not just in body, but in spirit. The pain she endured was relentless, but it wasn't the whip tearing into her flesh that crushed her soul—it was the pain in her heart. The weight of it sat on her chest.
Her hands were bound above her, secured to the ceiling with thick, silver chains that dug into her wrists. Her body sagged under its own weight, every muscle screaming in agony.
A few days ago, she had been married.
Now, she was being flogged like a traitor.
The irony almost made her laugh.
The lash came again, slicing through her back, and she let out a strangled cry. But she barely felt it anymore. What was a whip compared to the knowledge that she had given her heart to a murderer? That she had loved a man who had torn her world apart long before she even knew him?
She had no more fight left in her.
She didn't even try to convince them of her innocence.
What was the point?
Her own mate had ordered her to be taken away.
