Chapter 3

The dungeon door slammed shut above us with a finality that echoed through the stone chamber. Darkness engulfed us completely, save for a single torch flickering in a rusted sconce on the wall. Its weak light cast long shadows across the damp stone walls, revealing patches of black mold and ancient stains I didn't want to identify.

Elara whimpered against my chest, her tiny body trembling from the sudden cold. I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her like a shield against this nightmare.

"It's okay, little one," I whispered, my voice bouncing hollowly off the stone walls. "Mama's here. Mama won't let anything happen to you."

Silver stirred restlessly within me, her presence weaker than I'd ever felt it. *We need to conserve our strength,* she warned. *For both of us and the pup.*

I nodded, though there was no one to see the gesture. With careful steps, I explored our prison—a ten-by-ten cell with nothing but a rotting wooden bench and a thin, filthy blanket that had been tossed in the corner. The floor was slick with moisture, the air heavy with the scent of decay and despair.

Time became meaningless in that cell. The torch would burn low, and eventually, a guard would appear to replace it, their face always set in stone, refusing to meet my eyes. I tried to mark the passing hours by counting Elara's feedings, but hunger and exhaustion blurred everything together.

By what I guessed was the second day, Elara's cries had grown weaker. Her skin, once rosy and warm, had taken on a frightening pallor. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that tore at my heart.

"Please," I begged when Caleb appeared with our daily ration—a single piece of stale bread and a cup of cloudy water. "My daughter needs a healer. She's just a newborn."

His eyes flickered briefly to the bundle in my arms before hardening again. "Alpha's orders. No healers."

"She's innocent!" I cried as he turned to leave. "She's Marcus's daughter!"

Caleb paused at the door. "Amanda says the child might not even be his. That you've been unfaithful."

The accusation struck me like a physical blow. "That's a lie! You know that's a lie!"

But he was already gone, the heavy door closing behind him with a thud that felt like a death knell.

Elara's breathing grew more labored as the hours passed. Her tiny chest struggled to rise, each breath a battle she was losing. Panic clawed at my throat as I held her close, feeling her life force fading.

"No," I whispered fiercely. "I will not lose you. Not to him. Not to her. Not to any of them."

Silver surged forward in my consciousness. *We can help her,* she suggested, her voice determined despite her weakness. *I can share my essence with her, just enough to stabilize her.*

"But that would weaken you further," I protested, knowing what it could mean for us both.

*She is our pup,* Silver replied simply. *There is no choice.*

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the partial shift. It wasn't a full transformation—we were too weak for that—but enough for Silver's essence to manifest physically. My nails lengthened into claws, silver fur sprouted along my arms, and my canines extended into fangs. The pain was excruciating in my weakened state, but I embraced it.

With trembling hands, I cradled Elara against the silver fur that now covered my chest. I felt Silver's essence flowing from me into my daughter—warm, powerful, and life-giving. My vision blurred as weakness overtook me, but I held on, pouring everything I could spare into my child.

Gradually, color returned to Elara's cheeks. Her breathing deepened, steadied. When she opened her eyes, I saw a flash of silver in them—a gift from my wolf, a mark of our sacrifice.

I collapsed back against the wall, exhaustion claiming me. The partial shift receded, leaving me more drained than I'd ever been. But Elara was breathing normally again, her tiny fingers curling around mine with renewed strength.

I had barely recovered when the cell door crashed open. Three guards entered, their faces twisted with disgust.

"What did you do?" demanded the lead guard, a Delta named Riker who had once sworn loyalty to me.

"I saved my daughter," I replied, too weak to rise from the floor.

His nostrils flared. "You used magic. We could smell it all the way upstairs."

Before I could protest, they were upon me, roughly searching through the tattered remains of my clothing. From a hidden pocket in my dress, they extracted the small bundle of healing herbs I'd managed to conceal—my last resort, my final hope for Elara if things grew worse.

"Contraband," Riker announced, holding up the herbs like they were evidence of some terrible crime. "The Alpha will hear about this."

One of the other guards snatched away the bread and water that had been left earlier. "No food for witches," he spat.

They left us in darkness, taking the torch with them. I heard their laughter echoing down the corridor, mocking my maternal desperation.

In the pitch black, I held Elara close, feeling her steady heartbeat against mine. Silver was dangerously weak now, a flickering presence in my consciousness rather than the powerful force she had always been. But we had bought time—precious time for my daughter.

"We will survive this," I whispered to her, a vow that echoed in the darkness. "And then, we will make them pay. Every single one of them."

As if in answer, a distant sound caught my attention—the faintest whisper of movement from somewhere beyond our cell. Something—or someone—was coming.