Chapter 4:
Ana
Ice water hammered against my skin, striking me like fists against my back. I stood rigidly beneath the shower head, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, my teeth clattering so hard my jaw began to ache painfully.
"Warm water?" I muttered, the question more of a desperate reflex than a true request, knowing the answer already.
From the other side of the tattered curtain, one of the maids burst into cruel laughter. "Dream on, beast. The cold keeps the stink down and the filth off."
Their combined laughter sliced through the steamless, frigid air, sharp and cruel. My body shook violently and uncontrollably, but it wasn't from the cold alone. Every icy drop stung like thousands of needles, washing away weeks of accumulated grime and old blood, but never touching the deep, suffocating shame.
When the water abruptly cut off, I stepped out, dripping and exposed. The cold air instantly bit hard at my exposed skin. There was no towel waiting—of course not. Instead, the tall maid flung a crude, gray scrap of cloth at my chest.
"Put it on," she said with a malicious smirk. "Or stay naked. Alpha Derek might tear it off faster anyway."
The other two maids cackled together, whispering conspiratorially as I quickly slid the rag over my head. The rough wool scratched every inch of my body like a thousand nettles. It barely reached my knees, but it was an improvement over the moldy rags I had worn for weeks.
"Move," the tall one barked impatiently.
They marched me down the silent hallway. The heavy chain around my ankle clanked loudly against every step I took, the sound echoing through the stillness. The rich, savory smell of roast meat reached me, strong and tantalizing, long before we even reached the grand stairs. My stomach twisted itself into a painful knot of hunger.
This was the first time I had been allowed downstairs in years. The sudden, bright light from the main floor hurt my eyes after being confined so long in the dank cellar. The pack's living room had not changed: the same heavy velvet curtains, the same sparkling grand chandelier. Only I had changed: I was smaller, dirtier, and much, much quieter.
Mom and Dad sat regally at the long dining table, their plates piled high with steaming food. The rich scent of roasted meat and fine wine saturated the air. My sister Lia twirled a crystal glass delicately between her fingers, laughing at something Dad had just said. Her laughter used to bring a smile to my face. Now it only made me feel hollowed out and completely empty.
I took a hesitant step toward an empty chair at the end of the table.
Dad's hand instantly slammed down onto the wood. "Who gave you permission to sit, beast?"
"Sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking under the intense heat of his glare.
He pointed a furious finger at the floor near his feet, his face red and contorted with disgust. "Down."
The single word struck me harder than any physical whip. I slowly lowered myself until my bruised knees pressed against the cold, unforgiving tile. A cracked bowl waited there, filled only with cold scraps of fat and gristle. I didn't dare look up as I reached for it.
Grease coated my fingers immediately. I scooped the cold, rejected meat into my mouth, chewing as fast as I could to suppress the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
Lia leaned over the table, her lips curved into a theatrical, mocking expression of pity. "Look, she eats exactly like a dog."
Mom took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, her eyes remaining blank and cold. "She always did," she murmured indifferently.
Laughter rippled cruelly around the grand table. Deep within me, my wolf stirred restlessly.
"Let me out," she growled fiercely inside my skull, her voice sharp and dangerously hot. "Let me out, and I'll tear their worthless throats out."
I violently shoved another piece of cold meat into my mouth, chewing harder and faster to physically drown out her demanding voice.
Time dragged by slowly, like heavy chains being pulled through thick mud. I watched the moon's light slowly crawl across the floor in thin, ghostly white lines. I desperately wanted to vanish completely into the dark cracks beneath me.
Finally, Dad's heavy chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Bring her," he ordered, his voice flat and final.
Two guards instantly appeared behind me, their rough hands clamping down heavily on my arms. They dragged me quickly outside. The chain scraped continuously over the courtyard gravel, thin sparks flicking up from the friction of the rough metal.
Torches flared brightly all around the courtyard, throwing harsh, dancing light over the large gathered pack. Their faces blurred together into one mass of smirks, sneers, and eyes burning with cold hatred.
"Good riddance!" someone shouted with genuine pleasure.
"The curse leaves tonight!" another person laughed loudly.
"Filthy monster!"
The hateful words hit me one after another until they blurred into a meaningless, roaring sound. I kept my head bowed low. If I didn't look at them, perhaps I could pretend I was somewhere else entirely, somewhere safe.
But then, through the collective noise, one voice suddenly rose—soft, frail, and trembling.
"Poor girl," an old woman whispered near the edge of the crowd. "A pretty thing like her will never know real love. The Shadow Alpha's bed is nothing but a grave."
The words sliced through my numbness completely. My heart gave a violent lurch. I might not know who the Shadow Alpha was, but my wolf certainly didn't care. She instantly began to howl in my skull, a furious, living, terrified sound.
"Enough," I breathed out, the word a painful gasp.
A terrifying heat surged rapidly under my skin, fast and wild. My vision blurred and shifted, turning a dangerous, vibrant green. The growl that started deep within my own chest climbed higher, becoming louder and closer to a roar.
"What's that sound?" someone nearby yelled in fear.
"Her eyes—they're green!" another person gasped loudly.
The heavy iron cuff on my wrist began to glow with painful intensity. The runes deeply carved into the metal flared blindingly white, then flickered violently.
A searing pain shot through my entire arm, but I didn't stop. The metal cracked—once, twice—then shattered into a dozen useless pieces.
The chain hit the gravel with a dull, dead clank.
A single, horrifying scream tore out of me, but it wasn't mine anymore. It changed halfway through, warping and deepening into a sound that visibly shook the nearest torches and sent showers of sparks flying into the dark night air.
Bones shifted and ground together violently. My spine arched backward unnaturally. The gruesome sound of cracking filled the air as my skin split and tore open.
Thick, coarse fur pushed its way through the fresh wounds, black as pitch. My nails stretched and reformed into long, razor-sharp claws. My teeth instantly sharpened into fangs.
I fell forward, gasping hard—but the terrible, triumphant voice that laughed inside my head was no longer my own.
I rose slowly on my digitigrade legs, powerful muscles rippling beneath thick fur darker than the night around me. My newly formed claws dug deep into the loose dirt and gravel.
I was not merely a wolf.
I was a Lycan.
The beast was fully in my place now, and it was absolutely starving.