Chapter 4
Elara's POV
I ran with everything I had, my lungs on fire, my legs howling in agony, but I refused to slow down—I couldn't afford to. The woods rushed by in a hazy streak, with long shadows warping and bending as I leaped over tangled roots and scattered limbs.
My heart thrashed wildly inside me, a relentless pounding that matched the sheer panic driving me forward.
A sharp stab tore through my ribs, but I shoved it aside. Nothing else counted except putting as much distance as possible between me and Kael.
My gasps were uneven and harsh, sweat trickling into my eyes and turning everything fuzzy. Every muscle in my body begged for mercy.
Why? The question looped endlessly in my head. Why had I dared to dream I stood a chance? Why had I put faith in love? In Kael? That ridiculous, empty, idiotic optimism had been my lifeline, but now it tasted like bitter dust on my lips.
His treachery... it sliced into me worse than any fang ever could.
My insides twisted tight— I'd handed over my trust, my soul, only to learn he'd been playing me from the start. A mere piece in his twisted scheme. A complete fabrication!
Snap
All at once, the serene gloom of the forest erupted, and I skidded to a halt, whipping around to survey the area.
"What the hell was that?" I whispered, my pulse racing against my chest. Right then—my gaze locked onto glowing red eyes piercing back at me—not one pair, but three! I staggered backward, those eyes shining with feral greed as they stepped out growling from every direction in the trees.
Rogues.
I bolted again... harder than ever, but I was no match for their pace. Their forms loomed closer, their growls growing louder.
"Ah!" I cried out as one vaulted right over me, touching down squarely in my path—no, this was bad news.
I was trapped.
The trio prowled in a circle around me, their stares glued to me like I was their next meal. In a flash, everything exploded into mayhem—one lashed out with its talons, and I barely evaded it, tumbling ass-first onto the slick grass.
"Back off!" I yelled, my words fracturing as terror took hold. Before I could even wrap my head around it, one clamped down on my arm, yanking me rearward. Its fangs dug in deep, and warm blood gushed out, slick and scorching.
I was shrieking, but the sound barely registered—I was lost in a sea of dread and torment. My body craved recovery time; it could rebuild blood, but not this instantly.
Please, release me. I pleaded inwardly, gasping for air, but the beast only clamped harder, dragging me deeper. My arms and legs felt like dead weight.
Just when I figured it was all over, the wolves froze mid-motion. Amid the frenzy, I picked up on a fresh aura.
Another group of wolves, bigger and more formidable. In front of me, they ripped into the rogues with brutal force. It was a whirlwind of slashing nails, vicious barks, and sheer brutality.
I scrambled to inch away from the fight, desperate to slip free from whatever grim end awaited if they nabbed me. My injury wasn't sealing like it should.
Not after what Kael had nearly done to me. I still required healing time.
My eyes bulged in alarm as I sensed warm breath grazing my neck.
He wouldn't devour me, would he?
From the edge of my vision, three figures stepped forward. One approached, using his boot to roll me onto my back. "Grab her."
I went still. They'd come to my aid, hadn't they? Firm grips hoisted me up, only to lash my wrists together with coarse rope.
Hold on—what?
He jerked the cord, hauling me along roughly, blood streaming from my mangled arms as I stumbled after. I could hardly form words; my energy and blood loss had stolen my voice.
Any spark of optimism vanished. This wasn't salvation—it was captivity.
I huddled on the icy, moist dirt, clutching my knees close. Jagged rock walls enclosed me, scarred and worn, amplifying the sense of being caged.
I felt snared, like a rodent in a snare.
My digits were numb with chill, my tongue glued to my palate from dehydration. Starvation gnawed at me—occasionally, they'd toss me scraps or a dribble of water. I'd try gulping my own spit to ease the burn, but it did nothing.
I couldn't endure this any longer.
Right then, a sentry strode by. I leaped to my feet, seizing the metal bars. "Please! Get me out of here!" I rasped through my hoarse throat.
He just snorted and kept on strolling.
I'd been seized for crossing into their land—how was I supposed to know? I'd been escaping for my survival, got mauled by rogues, and now... I was rotting away.
Fantastic.
I peered out through the gaps, catching sight of their expressions. Harsh and unforgiving. Their looks were distant and uncaring, like I was invisible.
I wasn't in lycan territory anymore. This was werewolf country, the Mountain Dew Pack. Yet, it all seemed identical.
I felt tossed away and worthless, with no one bothering to hear my cries.
I glanced at my palm; the gash had mended, though the mending took longer than normal. Fingers crossed, none of the watchers had spotted my ability yet.
Deep down, I recognized my talent, this so-called gift. It served as both protection and poison. The harder I hid it, the more it ate away at me, but come what may, I wouldn't allow another soul to exploit me.
I refused to be a instrument once more. No way would I let anyone manipulate me again.
Weeks dragged by, each day blending into a monotonous cycle of meager food, silent guards, loneliness, and darkness. Time wore me down, my will eroding bit by bit.
Every morning, waking up felt harder, my inner strength fading.
A guard approached my cell, his face like stone, his glare deadly.
I swallowed hard, bracing for the worst.
But his words sparked a flicker of hope.
“You’re summoned for trial. Get ready.”
