Melissa.

I was still drowning in questions, confused, terrified, desperate, when muffled voices pulled me back to reality.

My father's voice echoed sharply, commanding attention, though I could not make out the words. The Alphas had moved with him toward the corner of the courtyard, their backs turned to me. They stood clustered together, speaking in low tones. Whatever discussion was happening, I was clearly the topic-my fate hanging in the balance in hushed sentences I would never hear.

My heart hammered weakly in my chest.

Were they arguing about me? Deciding whether to end the punishment? To reject me officially? Or... to kill me?

I didn't know.

All I wanted, desperately, was to be freed. My body trembled as I lay there, still bound to the table, every breath searing through my broken ribs. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted air. I wanted mercy. I wanted someone, anyone to say I had suffered enough.

But no one came forward.

No one spoke for me.

They returned shortly after, their expressions unreadable, their steps slow and deliberate. The moment they reached their original positions, I felt the air shift, heavier, colder and suffocating.

And then I heard it.

"My brothers and I will take over," Cypril declared.

His voice rang clear and final, slicing into me more painfully than any whip had.

My heart stopped. I could feel the blood in my veins stall, thickening with dread.

Take over?

No.

No, no, no.

Not them.

Anyone but them.

I would have preferred Fredrick. I would have taken every lash from his cruel hands rather than be whipped by the men who, just hours ago I had believed, were my destined mates. The same men whose approval I had once secretly hoped to win. Whose eyes I had dreamed might someday soften at the sight of me.

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks, hot even against the cold wind.

Cypril stared at me with nothing but disdain.

"This is what you deserve for stealing from my fiancée, Melissa," Caleb added harshly as he stepped forward, extending his hand.

Fredrick hesitated for a heartbeat, then handed him the whip without a word, almost gleeful that responsibility was shifting.

Caleb ran a hand along the length of the whip, straightening it slowly, almost ceremoniously. The leather gleamed beneath the sunlight, slick and deadly. He lifted it once, swung it lightly through the air.

Whoosh.

The sound alone sent a tremor ripping through my spine.

Fear tightened around my throat like a vice. I felt myself choking on air.

"How many strokes are left?" Cain asked, stepping forward, his face completely blank. No anger. No pity. Just cold, emotionless duty.

"Twenty-five, Alpha Cain," Fredrick answered quickly-too quickly. His voice carried a twisted satisfaction, and I saw his lips stretch into a wide grin he didn't bother to hide.

He was enjoying this.

Cypril let out a breath, folding his arms as he tilted his head with exaggerated thoughtfulness.

"We can't split twenty-five equally, Cain," he said casually, as if he were discussing numbers on a ledger, not deciding how many times they would tear open my flesh.

But there was something else in his tone. A hint. A suggestion. A desire to make it worse.

Cain paused only a second, then nodded once. "Two more strokes will be added," he declared.

The finality of his voice struck me harder than the whip ever could.

Twenty-seven lashes.

From the men fate had bound me to.

My vision blurred again, not from unconsciousness this time, but from heartbreak so deep it hollowed me out completely.

There was no escape.

Only pain.

I caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of my dimming vision, Amelia.

She glided forward with practiced grace, her dress swaying lightly around her legs. Even now, even here, she looked untouched by the chaos she orchestrated. She carried beauty like a weapon, delicate and deadly.

Without hesitation, she slipped her arm through Cain's. Her body pressed into his side like she belonged there, like she had always belonged there. She rested her head fondly against his shoulder, smiling sweetly up at him as though this scene, a girl being beaten bloody, was nothing more than entertainment.

"Thank you, Cain," she purred softly, her voice sugared with false concern, "but isn't that a little too much for her?"

For a moment, there was silence.

Cain's body stilled beneath her touch. Then he shifted, turning toward her as though pulled by gravity itself. His hand came up, fingers curving beneath her chin. He gripped her gently, reverently and lifted her face to his.

Their eyes locked.

"She deserves it, Amelia," he said, voice low and unwavering. "You are my queen. No one is permitted to hurt you."

Amelia's lips curved into a small satisfied smile, victory, triumph, possession all hidden in the corners of her expression. She leaned into his touch as if she basked in his devotion, drinking it in like fine wine.

I stared at them, broken, bleeding, bound watching the man fate had tied me to claim someone else as queen, protector, beloved. My heart trembled inside my chest, achingly fragile.

And then...

CRACK!

Pain invaded me before I even registered that Caleb had already stepped forward. The whip collided with my back, tearing open already broken flesh. My scream scraped from my throat, raw and ragged.

He didn't pause.

He didn't allow a breath, a heartbeat, a second for my body to settle. His arm rose and fell, rose and fell, brutal and steady. The sound of leather striking skin echoed like thunder, each blow ripping through me, shattering me anew.

Second, third, fourth stroke.

My vision blurred. I clamped my jaw shut to hold the scream inside, and failed.

Fifth, Sixth.

Every strike sent a fresh wave of agony tearing through my spine, spreading through my limbs like poison.

Seventh, eighth, ninth.

My fingers curled helplessly against the wood beneath me. My head rolled to the side, my tears pooling and dripping down the table. My lungs refused to draw breath for a beat.

At last, Caleb exhaled, satisfied. He tossed the whip from one hand to the other before turning away. Without a word, he handed it to Cypril.

Cypril accepted it eagerly, a twisted smile stretching across his face. He bent down slightly, bringing his face close to mine so I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.

"You should have known better, Melissa." he murmured, his tone venomous despite the softness.

Then he straightened, drawing back his arm, and the leather met my skin once again.

I jerked violently, the restraints digging into my limbs. With each stroke, the pain became something else, beyond human, beyond flesh.The world tilted, spinning as if the ground had fallen away beneath me and my wolf whimpered, unable to rise to my aid. I bit down hard on my tongue to stop myself from screaming, tasting iron.

On the eighth stroke, I wanted unconsciousness to swallow me, but it refused my desperate plea.

Finally-finally-Cypril stopped, breathing hard, as though he were the one laboring through agony.

He tossed the whip carelessly aside.

Then Cain moved.

He loosened his hold on Amelia, just enough and stepped forward. No softness touched his face. No emotion flickered in his eyes. Not love, not anger, not recognition. Just cold duty.

He didn't acknowledge my existence beyond what was required. He lifted the whip, and with the same measured brutality as his brothers, he brought it down. Each strike was efficient, as though whipping me was a chore to complete before dinner.

My body nearly gave out beneath him. My vision flickered, my hearing dimmed, darkness tugging insistently at my consciousness, begging me to let go.

When he delivered the final lash, he paused, chest rising slightly with exertion. Then his voice sliced through the ringing in my ears.

"From henceforth, Melissa is assigned to personally attend to we brothers."

He didn't look at me again.

He wrapped his arm around Amelia, pulling her close, and walked away without sparing me another thought. His brothers followed, three silhouettes disappearing, Amelia tucked proudly within them like a crowned queen.

They left me there, bleeding, breathless, half-broken, tied to a table beneath the fading light.

Dumbstruck.

Heart crushed.

And drowning in pain, both physical and unimaginable.

Melissa.

Bella's hands were firm but gentle as she supported me along the corridor. Each step was agony, each movement sending shocks of pain through my already battered body. My legs wobbled beneath me, trembling like they might give out at any moment. I leaned heavily into her, trusting the strength of my wolf to keep me upright, to guide me forward when my body refused to obey.

"Sorry, Melissa." Bella's voice was soft, laced with genuine sorrow. Her brow furrowed as she glanced down at my bruised and bloodied form. "I wish I could help you. Those jerks of an Alpha are clearly useless. Who the hell beats their mate?"

Her words made my chest tighten even more. She didn't understand, not fully, but she felt the raw injustice of it. I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, that none of this was, but my voice barely came out, dry and weak.

"Ssshhhhhh!" I hissed, gripping her arm lightly to make her lean in closer. "They might hear you." My heart raced at the thought of someone overhearing. If anyone reported her concern, if someone thought she was conspiring against the Alphas, I couldn't bear to imagine what would happen to her. I wouldn't survive seeing her suffer the same cruelty.

She nodded quickly, lowering her voice as we continued forward, her fingers tightening around my arm in support. I could feel her worry radiating through every small motion, and it gave me a tiny, fragile comfort in the midst of all the chaos and pain.

When we reached my room, I collapsed onto the bed with a thud that made the mattress groan beneath me. My body was a map of pain, every muscle tight, every nerve alive with memories of the whips and the humiliation. My back burned like fire, raw and throbbing, and my limbs felt like lead. I had survived, but barely.

Bella didn't hesitate. She set to work immediately, moving to my side with an ease that came from practice and care. Her hands glided over my shoulders, massaging gently at first, then more firmly as she tried to ease the knots and tension. She pulled a small jar of balm from her bag, rubbing it between her hands before pressing it against the raw tears in my flesh.

The sting hit instantly, sharp and biting, a cruel reminder of the punishment my body had endured. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, tears streaming freely despite my effort. "It... it hurts," I murmured, though my voice was hollow and strained.

"I know," Bella whispered, leaning close as if her own presence could shield me. "I know it hurts, but this will help. I promise."

I closed my eyes against the pain, letting her hands soothe where I could. My wolf shifted restlessly inside me, her anger and confusion mingling with mine, but even she seemed to relax slightly under Bella's care.

We hadn't even gone halfway through the treatment when a soft knock sounded at the door. A maid stepped in, bowing slightly as she spoke.

"Ma'am Melissa, Alpha Cain asked you to come to his room immediately."

The words froze me in place. My chest constricted, and my heart skipped a beat. Now what? I thought. I could barely stand, barely breathe without wincing. And now Cain wanted me, again.

The maid lingered for a moment, looking uncertain, before she retreated quietly. I had no choice. I couldn't stay, couldn't avoid it, no matter how terrified I felt. Pain and exhaustion weighed on me like stones, but I forced myself up. Each step toward the door was agony, each movement a battle against my broken body.

Leaning heavily on Bella, I managed to stand, the sting of balm mixing with the ache of my muscles, the raw tenderness of my back screaming with each motion. My wolf, restless and protective, moved within me, guiding my steps even as my body threatened to betray me entirely.

I drew in a shaky breath, glancing briefly at Bella. She gave me a small, encouraging nod, and I nodded back weakly, steeling myself. Then, with what little strength I could muster, I left my room and headed toward Cain's, each step heavier than the last, each one filled with fear and dread at what awaited me.

I pushed the door open carefully, putting my head down despite the aching pain in my back. "Alpha Cain, you called for me."

The first thing I noticed was the sound, a soft giggle, followed by the low murmurs of a girl's voice. My eyes looked up for just a few seconds, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Amelia was there, tangled in Cain's arms on the bed, her silky robe slipping off one shoulder, his shirt was open, his muscular chest on full display, as he leaned into her, his lips brushing her neck.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darted back to the floor, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence and state his reasons for calling me.

"Look up!" He commanded.

I slowly looked up and what I saw next was the wildly intimate moment between them, he kissed Amelia deeply and even moaned in between the kisses before pulling away. Amelia straddling his lap, her fingers tangled lazily in his hair as she trailed kisses down the side of his neck. Their soft giggles and breathy whispers filled the space, mocking, taunting, crushing the air right out of my lungs.

The fuck, did he call me here just to watch him get intimate with my sister?

My stomach twisted violently, my throat thickening until breathing hurt. I tried,goddess, I tried to keep a blank expression. To pretend I didn't care, to pretend the sight didn't slice straight through my soul like a blade. But the pain in my chest surged up like a force I could no longer contain. I felt tears burn hot at the corner of my eyes, then spill freely before I could blink them away.

My heart dropped to the floor.

I jerked my head aside, desperate and pathetic, to hide my humiliation. I wiped at my cheeks quickly, angrily, scrubbing away the tears, hoping he had been too distracted to notice.

I was too late.

Cain's eyes snapped toward me.

His entire posture changed. He tossed Amelia aside carelessly like she was nothing more than a discarded coat and sprang to his feet. His steps thundered across the room, closing the distance between us in seconds.

His fingers gripped my chin harshly, forcing my head up so I could look directly into his storm-dark eyes. Dread rooted itself deep inside me, cold and suffocating, paralyzing me where I stood. The cruel smirk curling at the corner of his lips only made it worse.

"Are you aware where you belong now?" he asked slowly, savoring each word like poison honey. He sounded pleased, satisfied with himself, satisfied with my pain.

I couldn't speak. My throat was dry, choked, locked with shame and fear and something far worse, betrayal.

His thumb brushed the wet trail along my cheek. At first the touch was strangely gentle, almost tender but that illusion shattered when his expression twisted. He lifted the dampness on his fingers and, with malicious delight, licked my tears off his skin.

My stomach clenched. Disgust and terror swirled together inside me.

"I am not done with you yet, Melissa," he murmured, his voice low and venom-sweet. "I will make you wish you weren't chosen by the Moon Goddess."

Pain-humiliation-anger-none of it mattered. I stood frozen, held in place by his grip on my chin and the cruel promise in his eyes.

Then, with a shove, not enough to throw me down, but enough to remind me how little control I had, he pushed me back.

His voice thundered across the room like a command from hell itself.

"GET. OUT."

My knees threatened to buckle, but instinct took over. I turned and fled before my tears betrayed me again, before my heart cracked open any wider, before the Moon Goddess could watch me fall apart.

Melissa.

I immediately stepped out of Cain's room and the darkness from the hallway hit me, but it felt blinding compared to the dungeon of humiliation I had just escaped. I barely had time to drag in a breath before I collided with a solid chest.

I stumbled backward and froze.

Cypril.

Of course.

Could my day get any better? The bitter thought scraped across my mind, raw and trembling.

Cypril's eyes darkened instantly. A dangerous glint flickered in them, cold, predatory, cruel. His jaw tensed, and before I could move away, his hand shot out. His fingers clamped around my chin roughly, jerking my face upward so hard it rattled my skull.

"Can't you watch where you're going?" he thundered, his voice echoing down the corridor like a trigger ready to explode.

He didn't wait for my response before tossing my chin to the side, as though even touching me left a stain on his skin. Pain flared down my jaw, joining the sea of agony already tormenting my battered body.

"I'm sorry, Alpha Cypril," I whispered quickly, my voice trembling. "I really didn't intend to bump into you."

My apology didn't matter.

His expression twisted-more fury, more disgust-and suddenly, he fisted my hair at the base of my skull. The move was violent and quick, and a scream lodged inside my throat as he yanked me forward.

My feet scrambled helplessly beneath me as he dragged me down the hall, towards his room, which was only two doors down from Cain's. Panic crawled up my spine like a thousand fire ants.

"YOU BITCH!" Cypril spat, slamming the door behind us. The sound cracked like thunder in my ears. "Stealing from your sister wasn't enough, now you want to hit me too?"

His voice dripped venom, every syllable slicing deeper than claws ever could.

He stood inches from me, staring straight into my eyes, daring me to speak, to explain, to breathe wrong. The air between us churned with rage, pain, and something darker, something I didn't understand and didn't want to.

I didn't respond.

Couldn't respond.

My mouth opened, closed, then remained still. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth, heavy and useless. My body screamed in pain from the welts on my back, every breath a stretch of torn skin.

Cypril's nostrils flared.

"I am talking to you. You answer right away." His voice slithered low and lethal, more terrifying than when he shouted.

Still, no sound came out. Not even a whimper.

And that was enough.

In the blink of an eye, Cypril grabbed my jaw, not gently, not with warning, and crashed his mouth against mine.

My mind went blank.

The kiss wasn't a question, it was a punishment, a command, an invasion. His lips claimed mine with bruising pressure, his teeth scraping, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. It wasn't passion, it was dominance, fierce and consuming.

I shuddered under him, my thoughts scattering like frightened birds. My hands trembled at my sides, debating between surrender and resistance. My heart hammered painfully, fear, anger, humiliation and yet somewhere beneath the storm, something treacherous fluttered.

Want.

No. Goddess no.

I fought against it, against him, against myself. I gathered the last scraps of my strength and pushed against his chest. My palms met muscle, unmoving, unyielding. He didn't budge an inch.

He only growled low in his throat, a beast satisfied by prey that dared struggle.

The kiss deepened, vicious now, like he was punishing me for daring to exist beneath him. My lungs burned as he gave me no space to breathe. His grip tightened, forcing my mouth open wider as if he wanted to consume every breath I owned.

I tasted iron.

Then blood.

My blood.

Cypril didn't stop, instead, he seemed to enjoy it, devouring the taste as though pain fed him. Every movement of his lips tore through me, through my thoughts, my identity, my sense of self.

And all I could do was stand there, body screaming, mind fracturing, caught between horror and the terrifying truth that some part of me responded even when I wished it didn't.

Cypril kissed like he had no mercy.

And I knew...

He wouldn't be done anytime soon.

It happened on instinct, one wild, desperate burst of strength that came from somewhere deeper than muscle or bone. With a strangled gasp, I shoved him away. My palms slipped against his chest, slick with nervous sweat, but the force was enough to create distance.

Cypril staggered half a step back.

I breathed hard. My lungs clawed for air like drowning creatures, my hands trembling violently. My fingers shot up to my lip, stinging, raw, pulsing with pain and came away stained with blood. Warm, thick, metallic.

My lips were already swelling, puffing beneath my touch. The heat radiating from them contrasted painfully against the chill of terror coursing through me.

I was still dazed, gently running my thumb over the torn skin, trying to understand what had just happened, when Cypril moved again.

Not a kiss this time.

A strike.

His hand cracked across my face so hard my ears rang. My head snapped to the side and for a moment the edges of the world flickered white, like lightning behind my eyes. Then pain bloomed, sharp at first, then hot, then throbbing.

I froze.

My cheek burned. Tears spilled instantly, sliding down in hot, helpless trails. They clung to my jaw, dripping slowly, like a betrayal my body performed without permission.

He had kissed me, violently, possessively, not even a minute ago. And now he hit me like I was nothing. A thing. A toy to be claimed, crushed, thrown.

How ironic.

I wasn't a mate, or a woman, or even a wolf to him.

Just an object he could devour and then destroy for sport.

"You don't get to decide when I stop!" Cypril roared, taking a furious step toward me. His voice vibrated through the room, bouncing off the walls, drilling into my skull. "You hear me?"

My breath came in shudders. I forced my gaze upward, meeting his eyes through a haze of tears. The room swam slightly, my vision distorted as though I were underwater.

"Yes, Alpha Cypril," I whispered.

My voice cracked, breaking on the words like they were too heavy to carry. The admission tasted like ash.

The tears kept falling, hot and endless. I swallowed them along with the ache in my throat. I wondered, distantly, if this was what my life would become, pain, humiliation, obedience to men who hated me yet refused to let me go.

Would every breath be controlled by their whims? Would every moment blur into fear and shame?

My thoughts tumbled, disjointed, broken. My wolf whimpered deep inside me, curling inward, wounded in ways the whip could never reach.

Just then, the sharp creak of the door sliced through the tension.

The knob turned. The frame hit the wall.

And Caleb slid inside.

He paused just past the threshold, taking in the scene-Cypril seething, me trembling, blood streaking my swollen lips.

His expression changed, though I couldn't decipher what emotion flashed across his face.

My stomach dropped.

Things could only get worse from here.