Nova and Elle felt the sting of exhaustion long before they reached the dungeon. After Draven's training had dragged them through the day and into the night, their limbs were leaden and every breath felt heavy. They dared not hope that Professor Shard had forgotten their punishment—but of course, he was waiting outside the field when the five students arrived.
"Ah, so you've arrived," Shard sneered. "No dungeon floors in the castle for you. You'll clean the second dungeon—ten miles south. Floors untouched for ages."
Their shoulders sagged as they ran the ten miles in the dark, each step jarring straight through bone and tendon. None of them had the strength left to shift. By the time they reached the dungeon, Shard was already waiting.
He handed out scrubbing brushes and buckets without a word.
Mindlink-blocking wards hummed through the stone.
Shard instructed the guards with clinical precision: the five were to remain until every level's floor was scrupulously clean. No talking. No mops. Hands and knees only.
Then he turned and left, thoroughly satisfied.
The prisoners watched as the students began their task. Kneeling, scrubbing, backs aching. Nova felt exposed in a way she never had. There were chained men watching her on hands and knees in the dim torch‑lit halls. Elle felt it too—that unsettling hum of vulnerability.
Miles away in the castle above, Cael, Jax, and Finric felt their mates' unease tug through the bonds they shared. Wolves stirred beneath each man's skin. Without exchanging words, each slipped away, drawn toward the castle's dungeon wing.
When they arrived, none spoke. Their eyes met above the stairs descending to the cells.
"Didn't he say just 'dungeon'?" Cael muttered.
"Yeah. Which dungeon?" Jax asked quietly.
Finric's jaw tightened. "I can't reach Shard's mindlink."
"I mean, if we found them… what then?" Cael asked in a whisper.
Jax's voice wavered. "I don't like Nova being down in a dungeon with prisoners."
"Me neither. Her and Elle are only just eating solid food again." Cael said, voice thick.
Finric offered what seemed like a solution. "Let's wait. Have a drink, they'll be back soon."
And so they withdrew into Finric's study—couches, fire, liquor—their worry locked inside silent glances.
Back in the dungeon, hours crawled by and the five helpers were barely halfway done. Their exhaustion weighed every scrub, every breath. Occasionally, a prisoner's stare shifted over the cells; Nova and Elle suppressed startled gasps when shadows moved unexpectedly. The boys, no less tortured, screamed at their own shadows.
Down on one level, a guard looked up from his post. He watched Nova and Elle scrub, their shoulders sagging, wrists raw. The stares of prisoners hung heavy. Something about the scene didn't sit right with him.
The guard's voice echoed off the stone.
"Bottom floor next. Work your way up."
Elle swallowed. Nova didn't. Her throat was too tight. They descended into the dark — torches crackling behind them, each step colder, damper, heavier.
No prisoners on this floor. That should've been comforting.
It wasn't. The smell hit first.
Rot. Rust. Old blood sunk so deep into the stone it had become part of the architecture.
Chains hung from the walls — some broken, some clasped shut — with dark, crusted stains beneath them. Drag marks gouged through the rock like someone had tried to crawl away.
Nova's vision tunneled.
Her breathing turned jagged.
Her fingers curled into her hair as her knees buckled. She gasped, but air wouldn't come. Her chest squeezed like pressure was closing around her lungs.
Her fingers were tingling and she felt terror. She couldn't calm down which made her panic more.
"Nova—hey—hey." Elle dropped to her side immediately. "Look at me. You're okay. Just breathe—"
Nova couldn't. Her pulse was too fast, too loud.
Her wolf snarled inside her. Trapped. Chains. Silver.
She couldn't get a breath. Silent tears started to fall down her face.
"Nova, look at me," Elle said again, grabbing her hands. "You breathe, I breathe."
Elle inhaled slowly, exaggerated — and Nova tried.
Once.
Twice.
A sputter.
Then finally — a ragged gulp of air.
And then Nova broke. Sobs ripped out of her — cracked sobs she couldn't stop.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, shaking. "Don't tell anyone… please… I'm so embarrassed."
"No," Elle said fiercely. "You will never apologize for this."
Her voice trembled too, thick with unshed tears.
Nova tried to steady herself. "These chains… they remind me…" But the rest caught in her throat and stayed there.
Elle didn't ask. She knew.
_______________________
Back at the castle, Jax paced the study in his chambers like a caged animal. He couldn't sit, couldn't think — something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
And then — it hit.
A crushing, suffocating terror slammed into him — sharp as a heart attack. His lungs seized. His ribs felt shrink‑wrapped. His vision blurred. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Then he felt a panic surge.
Nova.
His wolf whimpered — terrified.
He didn't even think. He ran.
At the same moment, in his own chamber, Fin froze mid‑stride.
His hands went numb.
His heart lurched.
Air — gone.
Terror poured into him through the bond. He gasped, not able to get a full breath.
Nova.
His wolf roared, snapping the last thread of control.
Finric shifted mid‑hallway, claws scraping stone as he bolted toward the grounds at full Alpha speed.