Chapter 2

Cold woke me first. Then pain.

Silver chains bit into my wrists, burning through skin that should have healed hours ago. The cellar reeked of mold and old blood, the kind of smell that settles into your bones. I tried to call for Luna, but she was barely a whisper in my mind, cowering from the wolfsbane still coursing through my system.

Footsteps echoed on stone stairs. A man emerged from the shadows—tall, scarred, with eyes that had seen too much violence. Rogue. The wildness in his scent confirmed it.

"Awake. Good." He crouched in front of me, studying me like I was merchandise. "Name's Silas. Your sister sends her regards."

My sister. The words twisted something in my chest.

"Adelynn doesn't have the money to hire Rogues."

"No, but she's got debts. Gambling debts. To some very unpleasant people." He smiled, showing too many teeth. "They were willing to forgive everything in exchange for one thing. The Blood Moon Luna."

The room spun. Adelynn had sold me. Actually sold me to clear her debts.

Silas stood, walking to a speaker mounted on the wall. "Let's see if your mate cares enough to pay for you back."

He flipped a switch, and static filled the cellar. Then Christopher's voice, clear and commanding, using the pack's emergency frequency.

"Blood Moon Pack, this is your Alpha speaking." His tone was pure authority, the kind that made wolves bare their throats in submission. "There have been rumors about my mate bond with Kiana Bennett. I'm here to clarify. Our mating was a strategic alliance, nothing more. The bond makes us vulnerable to external threats, and I will not allow sentiment to compromise pack security."

The words hit harder than any physical blow.

"My focus must be on internal threats and protecting those truly vulnerable within our borders. The mate bond is a weakness I can no longer afford."

Silas laughed, low and cruel. "Guess that's a no on the ransom."

He crossed to a table I hadn't noticed, picking up something that made my blood freeze. A whip, its leather strands glistening with liquid that smelled like concentrated wolfsbane.

"Nothing personal, Luna. But I don't work for free, and if your Alpha won't pay, someone else will. They're paying by the hour to watch this."

He gestured to a camera mounted in the corner, its red light blinking.

The first lash tore a scream from my throat before I could stop it. Fire spread across my back, the wolfsbane sinking into torn flesh, preventing any healing. Luna howled in agony, retreating deeper into my mind.

Two. Three. Four.

I lost count somewhere around ten, my voice going hoarse from screaming. The silver chains kept me upright when my legs gave out, burning my wrists as I sagged against them.

Then Christopher's voice filled my head, cold and distorted through the mind-link.

*Endure it.*

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

*Christopher—*

*If I acknowledge you as my true mate, they'll target Adelynn next. She's human, Kiana. Defenseless. This is a strategic sacrifice. You're strong enough to survive this.*

Another lash fell. I screamed again, tasting blood.

*Please—*

*I'm protecting what matters. Endure it.*

The mind-link went silent.

Silas continued his work methodically, professionally. Twenty lashes. My back was shredded, my wolf barely conscious. Blood pooled beneath me, mixing with the dirt floor.

"That's enough for today," Silas finally said, coiling the whip. "Don't want you dying too fast. Bad for business."

He left me hanging there, silver burning, wolfsbane spreading, my mate's words echoing in my skull.

Strategic sacrifice.

Three days blurred together. Silas came twice more with his whip. Christopher never responded to my mind-links. Luna stopped answering when I called.

Then, on the third night, chaos erupted upstairs. Snarls. Fighting. The cellar door crashed open, and Christopher stood there in his Alpha glory, eyes blazing, covered in blood that wasn't his.

For one moment, I thought he'd come to save me.

He crossed the cellar in three strides, grabbing Silas by the throat. The Rogue tried to speak, tried to say something about Adelynn, but Christopher's claws tore out his throat before any words could form.

Silas dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

Christopher turned to me, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. Regret? Guilt? It vanished too quickly to tell.

He broke the silver chains, catching me as I collapsed. His touch burned against my ruined back, but I was too weak to pull away.

"I've got you," he murmured, carrying me up the stairs.

I thought he was taking me to the pack hospital. To Elena, our healer. To safety.

Instead, he brought me to the pack house dungeons.

The cell had been furnished—a bed, clean sheets, medical supplies. It looked like a recovery room. But the door was reinforced steel, and I heard the lock click behind us.

"You're tainted with Rogue scent," Christopher said, laying me on the bed. His voice was gentle, almost loving. "The pack can't see you like this. You're not stable, Kiana. You need time to recover, away from everyone."

"This is a cell."

"This is protection." He brushed hair from my face, and I flinched. "I'm keeping you safe."

He left, and the lock engaged with a final, damning click.

I was a prisoner in my own pack, held captive by my own mate, and no one was coming to save me.