"You won’t get away with this!" Fiona scread, her voice raw with fury. Her breath ca in sharp bursts, and she tried to lash out at Lord William, her movents fueled by panic and rage. She fought against his grip, nails scratching at his forearm in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. Before she could hurl another string of expletives at him, she felt his firm shove, her body stumbling backward.
She collided with the chest of a hulking bodyguard, his hands like iron clamps on her arms. Before she could even struggle, the man raised his fist and delivered a sharp blow to the back of her head. Pain blossod like fireworks behind her eyes, and the world tilted before fading into darkness.
When Fiona awoke, she was lying on the cold, grimy floor of a dimly lit room. The stench hit her imdiately, acrid and suffocating. Her stomach churned, and she gagged, her body instinctively twisting away from the source of the foul odor.
The walls were coated with gri, and the ground was littered with debris that crunched under her slightest movent. Chains clinked as she shifted, the cold bite of steel against her wrists sending a shiver down her spine.
Her clothes were intact but tattered and sared with dirt, as though she had been dragged unceremoniously through the muck. The sticky, damp fabric clung to her skin, a reminder of her helpless state.
Her throat felt raw, her voice hoarse as she croaked, barely able to summon words. At first, all she could manage were shallow breaths and groans. But as the realization of her predicant sank in, anger and desperation began to boil within her.
"HEY!" she scread, her voice cracking as she fought through the pain in her throat. "GET OUT OF HERE!"
She yanked against the chains, the tal scraping against her skin. Pain flared, but she didn’t care. The rage gave her strength.
"MY FATHER WILL KILL YOU!" she shrieked, her words echoing off the stone walls. She tugged harder, gritting her teeth as frustration and fear built inside her. "DO YOU HEAR ? LET OUT!"
Her screams turned into a fit of violent coughing, her throat protesting the strain. Tears filled her eyes—not just from the choking stench but from the overwhelming helplessness. She choked back sobs, teetering on the edge of despair, when the sound of a creaking door froze her in place.
The faint light from the hallway spilled into the room, creating a silhouette of the figure standing in the doorway. Fiona squinted, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the brightness. Slowly, she made out the familiar fra of Lord William.
He stood tall, his black hair neatly swept back, his gentle brown eyes a stark contrast to the cruel smirk that tugged at his lips. In his hands, he carried a box, its weight evident in the way his muscles strained slightly under the rolled-up sleeves of his dark shirt.
"You’ll pay for this with your life!" Fiona spat, venom lacing every word. Her heart pounded as she glared at him, her fury giving her a false sense of bravado.
"My father will make sure you pay for this! You killed my friends, you bastard!"
"Your friends? You should pick better!" William chuckled, a low, mocking sound that made her skin crawl. He shook his head as if her threats were nothing more than amusing trivialities. Stepping closer, he set the box down with a deliberate thud.
"You can’t do this to !" Fiona hissed, tears streaming down her face. She hated how vulnerable she felt, chained and filthy, unable to even wipe away her tears.
Lord William didn’t respond imdiately. He simply knelt down, his presence looming over her as he opened the box. Fiona’s stomach dropped at the sight inside. It was filled with tools—wickedly sharp blades, clamps, and a whip adorned with vicious spikes.
Her back soaked with cold sweat as her breath quickened. She tried to shrink away, but the chains held her in place.
"What... what the fuck?" she stamred, her voice trembling with fear. "What the hell is that for?"
William picked up the whip, its tal tips glinting ominously in the light. He let it dangle from his hand, testing its weight with casual ease.
Fiona’s voice cracked as she attempted to reason with him. "I haven’t done anything to you! Is this how you treat your mate?"
He tilted his head, his gaze distant and unreadable. Then he spoke, his tone eerily calm. "My Mate?Aren’t you going to ask what your father poisoned with?"
Fiona’s eyes darted between his face and the whip in his hands. "I don’t care unless it’s killing you!" she snapped as she watched him crouch in front of her and began to speak.
"Its a poison that makes weak that sotis I can’t even defend myself against a human. Tell , what kind of lord can rule like that? Its the way your father keeps a leash on my neck!"
Fiona’s lips parted to respond, but he silenced her with a sharp glare as he continued speaking.
"Do you know what weakness breeds? It breeds vultures. People who circle, waiting for you to fall so they can pick you apart. That’s why I must be cruel. Crueler than I’ve ever been."
She opened her mouth to protest, but his hand shot out, grabbing her throat and shoving her head back against the wall.
"...And yet," he growled, his voice low and nacing, "you keep interrupting ...almost like you want to kill you."
His grip tightened just enough to make her gasp, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. For a mont, Fiona was certain she could see death reflected in his eyes.
"I—I can help you!" she stamred, desperate to break free. "If you let go, I’ll find the antidote! I swear it!" she promised sincerely even though deep in her soul Fiona knew she had no intention of doing so. She had no power and she was rely a pawn. Trying to go against her father was just as bad as the situation she found herself in.
Her words tumbled out in a frantic plea, but deep down, she knew she was lying.
William’s lips curved into a chilling smile. "The antidote?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I already know what it is!"
"Then you don’t need--" she didn’t get to finish before she felt a huge slap against her cheek that would have dislocated her neck if she wasn’t a werewolf.
"Honestly, you talk a lot compared to the elegant person you pretended to be !" he chuckled even as Fiona glared at him stunned by the slap but a mont later the anger she felt in her belly had tripled.
Fiona was furious at how she was being treated and was just about to lash out when she saw William stand as he tested out the whip in the air the sound it made made her back stiffen as she began to beg.
"...i-i can help! there is no need for you to use that against !" she said even as she felt her heart thump in her chest if she indeed allowed him to begin she could see sothing in his eyes that warned her that it wouldn’t end until he was satisfied sothing that would be bad for her.
"I’ll do anything you want!" Fiona’s voice trembled, her body shaking violently as fear consud her. mories of past tortures surged in her mind, vivid and suffocating. Her hands instinctively pulled against the chains binding her, though she knew it was futile. Her body felt like it was crumbling under the weight of both pain and terror, yet she forced herself to speak.
"Anything," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, cracking with desperation. Her eyes darted to Lord William, who was slowly advancing toward her. The whip hung from his hand, the way he held it—steady, deliberate—told her he was ready to use it, and she could feel the promise of pain it promised.
"Okay," he said simply, his tone unnervingly calm. His lips curled into a half-smile as he halted a few feet away from her, the whip dangling loosely from his hand. "Then accept as your mate."
Fiona froze. For a mont, her fear gave way to confusion, then to disbelief. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, sharp and humorless. "You can’t be serious!" she spat, shaking her head. "You want to accept you? And then what? Hurt by rejecting afterward? Why the fuck would I—"
Her words were cut short by a sharp, searing pain.
Fiona’s eyes widened, and her breath hitched as she glanced down at her shoulder. A blade had pierced through it, right where her still-healing wound had barely begun to nd. Blood trickled down her arm. She hadn’t even seen him pick up the knife, let alone strike.
’This fucker!’ she cursed with eyes shut as she held in the pain.
Her jaw clenched as she gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream. Her vision blurred montarily, but she forced herself to focus, her breath shallow but steady.
"You..." she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice low and trembling with suppressed agony. "I would rather die than beco a useless wolf!"
Fiona’s words were resolute. She knew the consequences of accepting the bond only to have it rejected—knew it was akin to having a piece of your soul violently severed.
But William didn’t falter. He moved closer, his tall fra casting a shadow over her trembling form. His expression was cold, yet there was an unsettling arrogance in the way he stared down at her.
He stopped re inches away, his presence suffocating, and leaned slightly forward. "I, William Var, accept Fiona Bavelli as my mate," he declared. His voice was low, firm, and carried the weight of finality.
Fiona’s breath caught in her throat as the words registered. A jolt of sothing unexplainable coursed through her—a pull, a binding force that seed to latch onto her very being. Her eyes widened in shock, the air around her feeling suddenly heavier.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head as fear and dread replaced her defiance.
William knelt before her, his smirk deepening. The whip was still in his hand, but now it felt like an afterthought. He wasn’t looking at her as a victim anymore—he was looking at her as sothing he owned.
"...Your turn," he said softly, his gaze locking onto hers. His tone was almost taunting, yet there was a terrifying confidence beneath it.
Fiona’s heart pounded as she tried to decipher his intentions. She didn’t understand what ga he was playing.
Gritting her teeth, she raised her head and t his gaze. For the first ti, she allowed herself to speak with complete honesty, her voice raw and bitter.
"My father doesn’t care about ," she said, her words dripping with resentnt. "If you’re trying to hurt him by hurting , you’re wasting your ti." Her eyes dropped to the ground, the admission leaving her feeling hollow.
Silence hung in the air for a mont before she felt his fingers under her chin.
William tilted her face upward, forcing her to look at him. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it only made the mont more unsettling. His dark eyes bore into hers, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost soothing.
"If you do as I say..." he murmured, his breath brushing against her skin, "...then I won’t hurt you."
The promise lingered between them, a fragile, poisoned thread.
Before she could respond, he reached for the knife lodged in her shoulder. Without warning, he pulled it out in one swift motion. Fiona gasped, the sudden surge of pain stealing the air from her lungs. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry out, refused to give him the satisfaction.
Fiona didn’t reply. Her breaths ca in short, shallow gasps as blood dripped steadily from her wound. But in her mind, one thought repeated over and over: Whatever he’s planning, it’s worse than anything I’ve faced before especially since she had never heard of a wolf bond between mates being severed after it was accepted.
And for the first ti, she felt truly powerless.
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