Zayn stood in silence watching the woman kneeling before him. The only sound was the faint crackling of fire and the distant, echoing howl of a restless wolf.
Martha. The Brightpaw family's maid. Loyal servant to the former Alpha was someone Zayn had assumed was just another silent bystander, another cog in the cruel machine that had crushed his people.
And now she knelt before him.
Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Why? So you can finish what her family started? Hurt her more?”
Martha flinched as if he’d slapped her. “No! Please, I swear on the Moon Goddess, I never laid a hand on her. I did everything I could to protect her.”
He stepped forward, towering over her. “She’s covered in scars. If you weren’t the part of the people hurting her, then how did she end up like that?”
Her lips trembled.
“Don’t lie to me.” he warned sharply.
Martha hesitated. The silence stretched.
Zayn watched her closely, waiting, his patience wearing thin. His wolf paced beneath his skin, unsettled.
“I’m not going to ask again,” he said, voice cold.
She lowered her head, ashamed. “Like I said, it was mostly her brother. Xavier.”
Zayn stiffened. “Go on.”
“She was barely old enough to walk when it started,” Martha whispered. “After her mother died in childbirth, the Alpha blamed Lily for it. Said she was cursed. Said she was the reason everything went wrong. But Xavier… he made sure she never forgot it.”
Zayn’s jaw tightened.
“She was beaten for the smallest things. Forgotten. Locked away for days. He used to whip her just to hear her cry, until she stopped crying altogether.” Martha’s voice cracked.
“When she was five, he burned her hand for spilling a cup of water. I still remember the smell.”
Zayn felt a twist in his chest, one he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to care when it came to the daughter of his enemy.
But the scars he’d seen on her body… flashed in his mind.
“She never complained,” Martha continued, tears dropping. “Not because she couldn’t, but because no one cared.”
Zayn didn’t speak. His thoughts were a storm. He had assumed the worst of her. Assumed she was like her father. Like her brother. A wolf with blood on her hands. But now… He wasn’t sure what she was.
“It wasn’t safe to speak back then. I stayed quiet because if I said anything, it would’ve made things worse for her. Or it would’ve gotten her killed.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
She lifted her eyes slowly. “And it almost did.”
Zayn’s gaze held hers.
Her voice cracked again as tears continued down her cheeks. “I tried to help. I snuck her food. Covered her bruises. Hid her when I could. But I was just a maid.”
Zayn said nothing. He was listening now, really listening.
“She never once fought back,” Martha said softly. “Never screamed. Never bit back. She just... took it. I watched that girl grow up thinking she was worthless. And she still… she still found a way to smile. Not often, but when she did—” her voice cracked.
“—It was like she was begging someone to love her. Like she still believed someone, anyone, might care enough to save her. Even if she couldn't say it.”
Zayn’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent.
“She’s not like them,” Martha continued. “She never was. She didn’t choose this life. She’s not your enemy, Alpha. She’s just broken.”
Zayn retorted. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know.” Martha swallowed. “If she has to face this alone… she won’t survive it. Please, Alpha Zayn. I know I have no right to ask,” she said, “but please, Alpha Zayn….”
Zayn looked at her for a long moment. He wanted to stay angry. To brush her off and walk away. But there was no flattery in her voice. No manipulation. Just grief, guilt and maybe… love.
He exhaled slowly.
“You can visit her,” he said quietly. “Stay if you want. That’s your choice.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “Really? Thank you, Alpha.”
“She’s in the dungeon,” he added, tone firm. “She’s being watched. If you try anything—”
“I won’t,” she said quickly. “I swear.”
Her words rang with sincerity. No lies. No hidden motive. Zayn stared at Martha in silence. The desperation in her eyes… didn't look fake. But he’d been fooled before. Her words replayed in his head.
His wolf stirred. She’s telling the truth, it murmured. Let her go.
It went against every instinct he had to trust someone tied to the Brightpaw name. But this woman wasn’t defending them.
Lily Brightpaw had no wolf. No voice. No power.
Yet someone still knelt for her.
That unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
After a moment, he gave a sharp nod. “Then go.”
Martha looked up, and a wave of disbelief and raw emotion flooded her face. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. She bowed low, holding back tears, then rose on shaky legs.
Without another word, she turned and hurried out of the room and down the hall. She rushed first to get some essentials before walking towards the dungeon.
With each step, the air grew colder, the walls heavier. The scent of blood and sweat thickened the deeper she went.
And then, she heard it.
A scream.
It was muffled, angry, and followed by the sharp crack of a whip.
Martha winced and paused outside a cell. The heavy sound of chains clinking and rough laughter filtered through.
It was Xavier.
Inside, the former heir of the Brightpaw Pack was chained to the wall, shirtless, his arms stretched above him. Blood streaked his chest and back, cuts fresh and oozing. His face was twisted in fury.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much, you mutt,” he spat.
Ezra, Zayn’s Beta, stood across from him, a whip still in hand. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with deep-rooted hate.
“Is that a complaint?” Ezra asked, voice calm. “Because I could stop if you’d prefer.”
“You think this makes you a man?” Xavier hissed, laughing bitterly despite the pain. “You’re still the same spineless mutt I used to piss on in front of your Alpha. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!”
Ezra’s face twitched slightly.
“Funny,” he said, walking closer. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He motioned to one of the pack members standing behind him. The man handed him a small, wickedly sharp blade.
Ezra traced the blade across Xavier’s chest slowly, not deep enough to kill, just enough to make him bleed.
Xavier grunted, muscles tensing, but he didn’t beg.
“You know what I remember most?” Ezra said, his voice too casual. “That time you made me crawl through the mud like a dog. With a leash around my neck. You laughed so hard, you cried.”
Xavier gritted his teeth.
“You used to look down at me like I was nothing,” Ezra continued, pressing the blade just under Xavier’s collarbone, slicing downward. “Now look at you.”
Xavier let out a shaky breath, trying to mask the pain with rage.
“You think this makes you better than me?” he growled. “You’re still the same dirty little mutt pretending to be a wolf.”
“How about this, then?” he said, stepping back. “How about we cut off the one thing you seemed so proud of?”
Xavier froze. “You wouldn’t.”
Ezra raised a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”
The other wolves chuckled darkly as one of them approached with a knife.
Xavier’s face turned pale. “You fucking touch me—” Ezra leaned in closer, holding the knife next to Xavier’s groin.
“Tell me, Brightpaw,” he said softly. “How do you think it’ll feel when we feed your balls to the pigs?”
The color drained from Xavier’s face. Panic flickered in his eyes for the first time. Martha turned away, her stomach churning. She didn’t pity Xavier. Not after what she’d watched Lily endure.