Chapter 9: The Silent Defiance

RAVEN

The sharp crack of Seraphina’s palm across my cheek echoes through the training grounds, loud enough to make passing warriors glance our way.

I barely flinch.

My head snaps to the side, the sting blossoming across my skin, but I don’t move. I don’t react. I don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

"Let this be a reminder," Seraphina hisses, standing over me, the perfect picture of privilege and cruelty. Her golden hair catches the morning sunlight like a halo, her beauty a sick contrast to the poison in her voice.

I refuse to look at her.

I am on my knees in the center of the training yard, my hands raw from scrubbing the dirt between the wooden sparring posts. For the second time this week, I have been ordered to clean the warriors’ training grounds as punishment for yet another fabricated crime.

This time, Lilliana accused me of disrespecting Victor, claiming I had spoken out of turn during a pack meeting.

It doesn’t matter that I hadn’t spoken at all.

It doesn’t matter that no one had even noticed me.

They will always find reasons.

I exhale slowly, keeping my expression blank, impassive.

Seraphina hates it when I don’t react.

She lives for the cracks in my armor.

But today?

Today, I will give her nothing.

Seraphina’s lips curl in irritation.

"You should thank me," she says sweetly, circling me like a predator toying with its prey. "Mother wanted to have you locked in the cellar for this one, but I convinced her to be merciful. I told her you needed fresh air."

I say nothing.

Her expression darkens, frustration flickering behind her blue eyes.

That’s her weakness.

Seraphina needs power over me.

And if I refuse to break—if I refuse to give her the reaction she wants—

I win.

From a distance, Lilliana watches, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

Victor, as always, is nowhere to be found.

Coward.

Seraphina lets out a huff, clearly growing bored.

"Well," she says airily, stepping back. "I suppose you’ll be out here all day, won’t you? Best not waste time."

She turns on her heel, voice dripping with mock pity.

"Don’t forget to scrub the blood out properly this time, sister."

I grit my teeth, my fingers tightening around the wooden brush in my hands.

I dig it into the dirt, pushing back the fire burning behind my ribs.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I scrub until my knuckles are raw, my muscles aching, my body screaming in exhaustion. Hours pass, the sun shifting overhead, my skin burning beneath its relentless heat. Warriors pass by, their boots kicking up dust, some laughing, some sneering, most simply ignoring my existence altogether.

My fingers cramp, my vision sways from lack of food, but I refuse to stop. I will not allow them to think they have broken me.

Not today.

Not ever.

By the time I finish, the sun has dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows over the training grounds. My hands are torn, my knees stiff, my stomach twisted with hunger. But I stand, shaking the dirt from my fingers, lifting my chin.

Forcing myself to walk back toward the packhouse with whatever dignity I have left.

The halls are empty when I slip inside.

Laughter and the sound of clinking glasses spill from the main dining hall, the pack feasting without me.

I don’t care.

I don’t want their food.

I don’t want their pitying glances or their cruel smirks.

I make my way to the storage room where I am allowed to sleep—a tiny space, barely big enough for my makeshift bed of blankets and a wooden crate that serves as my table.

The moment I sit down, exhaustion crushes me.

My stomach twists painfully, the hunger clawing at my insides, but I ignore it.

I am too tired to think.

Too tired to feel anything but the overwhelming emptiness settling over me like a thick fog.

The old wooden door creaks open.

I immediately sit up, my heart pounding.

A familiar silhouette slips through the gap before quickly shutting the door behind her.

Elara.

I exhale quietly in relief.

She kneels beside me, holding out a cloth-wrapped bundle.

"I brought what I could," she whispers. "It’s not much."

I take the bundle, peeling back the fabric.

Inside is a piece of bread and a small portion of dried meat.

To anyone else, it would be pitiful.

To me, it is everything.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice hoarse.

Elara studies me for a long moment.

Then—"You need to leave."

I freeze.

Elara’s hazel eyes burn with certainty. "I’m serious, Raven. They are never going to stop. You know that."

I swallow the dry piece of bread, chewing slowly.

She’s not wrong.

There is no future for me here.

No escape.

Not unless I make one.

But—where would I even go?

"I don’t know how," I admit. "Or where. Or—"

Elara grabs my wrist, squeezing tightly.

"You’ll figure it out," she says, her voice fierce. "But don’t wait too long."

Something happens.

A strange, foreign sensation pulses beneath my skin.

It is subtle—barely a whisper, barely a flicker.

But it is there.

Something warm, something electric, something… more.

It coils beneath my ribs, unfamiliar, alive.

I freeze.

I have felt this before.

Not often.

But in moments of deep emotion, of sharp pain, of burning defiance.

A power lurking beneath the surface.

But what is it?

Elara must notice the shift in my expression because she tilts her head, brows furrowing. "Raven?"

The feeling vanishes.

I shake my head. "Nothing. I just… I need time."

Elara searches my face, then sighs.

"Fine. But don’t wait too long. I don’t think we have much time left before Lilliana decides she’s done playing games."

She stands, heading toward the door.

Just before she slips out, she turns back.

"When you’re ready," she whispers, "you won’t have to do it alone."

And then she is gone.

I stare after her, my hands tightening into fists.

I will leave.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

But soon.

And when I do?

I will never look back.

They think they have broken me.

They think I am powerless.

But tonight, I feel something stir inside me.

Something they don’t know about.

Something they will never be able to control.

I turn onto my side, a slow, dangerous smile curling at the edge of my lips.

Let them think they have won.

For now.