“You’re a slave now.”
Victoria’s words lingered in the air like poison, suffocating her. She didn’t know what to think. The thin red dress clung to her body like a second skin, cold and humiliating. She sat there, trembling on the stone floor long after Victoria’s footsteps had faded.
Martha moved to her side and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” she whispered, though her own voice shook. “Just breathe. You’re still alive.”
But Lily wasn’t so sure that was a blessing anymore.
Moments later, heavy boots echoed down the corridor again.
“The Alpha wants her brought to his chambers,” one of the guards announced, not bothering to look at her.
Lily’s breath hitched. She looked at Martha, wide-eyed and terrified.
Martha grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Lily. You do what they say. Don’t fight. Don’t resist. Just… endure it. You’ve made it this far. I know it’s not fair, but I need you to stay alive. Okay?”
Lily nodded weakly. She didn’t want to die. But she didn’t want to go either.
The walk to Zayn’s chambers felt like a march to the gallows. Two guards escorted her while Martha stayed close, gripping her elbow gently, offering silent support.
Lily walked slowly, feeling every step like weights around her ankles. She didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.
The corridors felt colder than before, the stones rougher against her bare feet. She barely registered the guards guiding her forward. Her mind was elsewhere, numb with dread.
“I know this is hard, Lily,” Martha whispered gently. “But whatever happens, please hold on.”
Lily kept her eyes fixed on the floor. She couldn’t respond with words, but Martha knew her well enough to understand the slight tremor in her limbs, the quick, shallow breaths she took.
Lily was just tired. Tired of the pain. Tired of feeling helpless. Tired of this life.
They stopped outside heavy wooden doors. Lily recognized them immediately, her heart dropping painfully. These doors were familiar. Too familiar.
“Wait here,” a guard commanded roughly, knocking once before pushing the door open and shoving Lily inside.
The moment she stepped into the room, she froze, her breath catching painfully in her chest. This wasn't Zayn’s room, it was her father’s.
Her legs gave way instantly, and she fell to the cold marble floor, her whole body trembling violently. Familiar scents surrounded her. Old leather, stale whiskey, lingering smoke. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep back the nausea.
Memories kept surging, unstoppable and cruel. Bruises hidden under sleeves. The sharp sting of her brother’s whip. Her father’s hateful stare, always blaming her for the mother she’d never even known. The echoes of their laughter filled her ears, drowning out reality.
She squeezed her eyes shut trying to block the images and tears from falling. Not here. Please…not here.
She vaguely heard Martha’s pleading voice through the door, begging to remain by her side, followed by guards firmly refusing. Then silence returned, leaving Lily utterly alone.
She opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurred by tears. The familiar dark furniture loomed around her, the heavy desk, the worn leather chairs, the cold fireplace. She hadn't entered this room since the rebellion, but her body remembered every detail vividly.
The locked door. The biting words. The cruel hands.
A strangled sound escaped Lily as she pressed herself harder against the cold stone wall, drawing her knees to her chest. Her breathing quickened, uneven and shallow, as if the air itself was running out. Panic overwhelmed her, trapping her in a body she no longer felt she controlled.
She sat on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shaking uncontrollably. Her chest grew heavier by the second, the air around her thick and oppressive.
She lost track of time entirely, seconds blending into endless darkness. But one thing became clear in her mind. This room was a tomb, and she had been buried alive inside it.
No one had come to help her before. No one would come now.
She was completely alone, trapped within the darkness of her memories.
***
Beneath the cloudy sky, Zayn stood tall before the gathered wolves. Every wolf watched him closely, their expressions were a blend of pride, suspicion, grief, and uncertainty.
Some trusted him implicitly, loyalty shining clearly in their eyes, while others remained wary and guarded. Zayn understood. Uniting two packs who'd once been enemies wouldn’t happen overnight.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the raised platform. Ezra stood beside him offering support. Silence fell as Zayn's voice carried clearly across the crowd.
“From now on, Thunder Paw and Obsidian Moon no longer exist as separate packs. We are one family, one pack.”
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Some faces showed relief and hope, while others hardened with doubt or resentment.
“I know many of you have lost homes, families, friends, and leaders. The rebellion hurt all of us deeply,” Zayn continued, his voice firm but understanding. “But I didn't fight just for revenge. I fought for our future.”
He turned slightly, gesturing toward the distant farmland, a place that once held proud homes, now reduced to barren fields and painful memories.
“That land was ours before Thunder Paw destroyed it. Now, it belongs to all of us. On that ground, we’ll build a new packhouse. It will be stronger and bigger. A symbol of unity and survival, a home where every wolf will be welcome.”
The crowd grew quieter. He saw doubt in many eyes, anger in others, but curiosity and optimism had begun to appear as well.
He knew words alone weren’t enough. They needed proof, action, and fairness. Zayn met the uncertain gazes directly.
“I won’t pretend this will be easy. Trust must be earned, and wounds take time to heal. But we have a choice now—to hold on to bitterness or choose to heal together. I promise you, I will lead us toward a better future.”
He raised his hand briefly to buttress the seriousness of his promise. “My laws will be enforced fairly. My protection extends to every wolf here, no matter your past. Loyalty will be rewarded. But betrayal…” He let the silence speak clearly for him.
He stepped back, looking toward Ezra, who nodded in agreement. They exchanged a knowing glance before stepping down from the platform together.
Ezra leaned in close, lowering his voice. “You think they’ll accept this easily?”
Zayn’s gaze swept across the crowd again, noting the mixed reactions, both hopeful and wary.
“No,” he admitted quietly. “But they’ll have to learn. If they truly want peace, this is the only way forward.”
By the time Zayn returned to the packhouse, dusk had begun to settle, casting heavy shadows along the corridors. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. Uniting two packs meant patience and discipline, but right now, something else demanded his attention.
Lily…
As he approached his private chambers, her scent hit him, sharp and unmistakable. He stopped abruptly, jaw clenching in irritation.
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. Her presence disturbed him more deeply than he cared to admit. The scent was laced with fear, stirring a strange unease within him.
Zayn reached out to grip the door handle, determined to confront her and assert control. To remind her exactly who held the power now. He wouldn’t let her frightened eyes or silent pleas weaken him again.
But before he could open the door, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall behind him.
“Alpha!” Ezra called urgently, his face tense as he approached. “We’ve got a problem. Patrol spotted rogues at the northern border. They’re organized and attacking fast.”
Zayn turned sharply, irritation flashing in his eyes. “How many?”
“Too many to ignore,” Ezra replied gravely. “We have to go now.”
Zayn cursed quietly, frustration tightening every muscle in his body. He cast one final glance at the closed door, her scent tugging at him. His thoughts darkened.
You'll have to wait, Lily Brightpaw. I'm coming back for you.