Seraphina’s POV
The agony hit first. Not just the searing heat that coursed through my entire body, but the sharp, stabbing pain from the injuries he had inflicted. Every bone felt shattered.
I attempted to lift my arm, to push myself upright, but my body refused to obey. Sothing cold and impossibly heavy pressed down on . My vision cleared slowly, tears and exhaustion making everything blur together.
The stone floor beneath was freezing. Ironridge chains wrapped around my wrists, ankles, and torso, each link burning into my flesh like acid. Red welts marked every point of contact, so bleeding where the tal had eaten through skin. The stench of my own seared flesh turned my stomach.
Movent flickered in the shadowed corner of this dungeon. My pulse hamred against my throat.
Dorian erged from the darkness. He lood above , studying his handiwork. For one fleeting mont, sothing flickered across his features. Not satisfaction or rage, but sothing that almost resembled remorse. The expression vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar mask of cold indifference.
"Are you satisfied with your masterpiece?" My voice ca out as a rasp. "Is this what you dread of doing to ?"
I needed to understand if this torture had brought him the peace he sought. If his hunger for vengeance was finally sated.
His face remained stone. "It was necessary. You beca my enemy."
The words sliced through worse than any blade. Enemy. My own flesh and blood saw as nothing more than a target for his hatred.
My brother had destroyed every part of , and I couldn’t decide whether to despise him or mourn for what he had beco.
"Water," I managed. Begging him for anything made my skin crawl, but my throat felt like sandpaper. "Please."
Surprisingly, he reached for a bottle nearby. He removed the cap and tilted it against my cracked lips. I swallowed desperately, the cool liquid offering brief relief in this living hell. It restored just enough strength for to continue.
I let my head drop back against the unforgiving stone. "My childhood was a nightmare beyond imagination," I whispered, each word an effort. "Perhaps not as terrible as yours. I don’t know what horrors you endured. But I suffered too. The difference between us is that I could never transform into the monster you’ve chosen to beco."
"Enough," he snapped, his tone sharp as winter wind. "Stop painting yourself as the martyr. Stop fishing for my pity. You understand nothing about what I’ve endured."
"Hours ago, I pitied you," I said, the chains cutting deeper as I struggled against them. "I carried guilt for whatever happened to you. But that’s over now."
He released a harsh, bitter laugh. "Your pity ans nothing. You’re just like him. Your father destroyed mine."
This was my mont. The truth I had to reveal, because I might not survive this day. If death was coming, he needed to know he had tortured his own sister.
I wanted him to carry the weight of what revenge had cost him. Maybe so part of him would finally understand the price of hatred.
"Alpha Maxwell isn’t my father," I said, letting the words settle between us like a bomb.
His composure cracked. The icy mask slipped and his eyes went wide with genuine shock before he forced his expression back to stone. "You’re lying."
"I discovered the truth monts before you took ."
"Impossible," he hissed. "Everyone knows the story. You and Roxanne were switched at birth."
"That was an elaborate deception," I pressed on, fighting through waves of pain. "A lie my parents created to hide the real truth from ."
"What truth?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
I drew a trembling breath. "My biological father is Alpha Victor of the Ruined Fang."
I t his stunned gaze directly. "The sa man who fathered you."
He staggered backward as if I had struck him physically. "That’s not possible."
"It’s completely possible. And completely true," I gasped, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. "Whoever fed you that story about your father’s death... they know the truth. My mother and your father were together before she found her true mate. Ask them if you doubt ."
He stood frozen, his face drained of all color, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. For the first ti since I’d known him, Dorian looked utterly lost.
Without warning, he spun on his heel and stord from the room, the door slamming with enough force to shake the walls.
The mont his footsteps faded, the tears ca in a flood. I wept silently on the frigid stone. The burning agony in my body. The crushing ache of missing my children. The hollow feeling in my chest where my heart should be. I didn’t want to die in this place.
Most of all, I yearned for Julian. Despite our conflicts, I would sacrifice everything for one final conversation with him, one last glimpse of our children.
I couldn’t bear the thought of them growing up consud by hatred and rage like Dorian, becoming twisted by thoughts of revenge.
Ti beca aningless as I lay there drowning in pain and terror. Minutes or hours passed before the door burst open again.
Dorian rushed in, his face a mask of panic and desperation. "Seraphina," he choked out, his hands shaking as he worked at the chains. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry."
The silver restraints crashed to the floor as he tore them away. But his voice seed to co from miles away, like an echo in a vast cavern. The room began to spin wildly. The pain was overwhelming. The sudden freedom too much for my broken body to process.
Darkness crept in from all sides, promising escape from this nightmare.
With the last fragnt of my strength, I looked at the brother who had shattered , and spoke the one truth that burned brightest in my soul.
"I will never forgive you for this."
Then consciousness abandoned completely.
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