Ss POV


    The dark alwayses back for me.


    Finished


    No matter how many chains I break, no matter how many enemies I ughter on the battlefield, when the night grows still, it finds me. The past. The pain. The voice that was carved into my bones long before I ever became Alpha of the Irond Coalition.


    I’d locked myself inside the forbidden chamber again–my den of punishment, the ce no one was meant to enter. Whips hung from the walls like specters<b>, </b>each one a memory, each one a mark burned into my skin. Their shadows stretched long in the dim light, curling like snakes, whispering to me that I would never be free.


    My body convulsed, hands twisting at unnatural angles, ws nearly breaking skin as I dug into my own flesh. My throat ached with strangled sounds I could not hold back–half growl, half broken plea.


    “I’ll be good…” The words tore out, fractured. “I’ll be good. I’ll keep her. I’ll keep Mother…”


    The mantra. The lie. The only thing that ever bought me one more breath when my father’s whip came down.


    Pain throbbed through every nerve, memories bleeding into reality. My father’s voice thundered over me again–Useless. Weak. You’re nothing but a leash around her neck.


    Eachsh fell in my mind, over and over, and I could smell the iron tang of blood, feel it slick on my back. Even now, yearster, the agony was real. My wolf wed inside my chest, wild with the need to break free, to destroy, to end everything–yet all I could do was curl tighter, fingers digging deeper into my skin, desperate to quiet the storm.


    I didn’t hear her at first.


    The pounding at the door. The voice calling my name. I thought it was another hallucination, another phantom from the endless dark. But then the door creaked open–unlocked, though I had sworn I’d sealed it.


    And she was there.


    Freya. My so–called bodyguard, though I had never asked for her, never wanted anyone near this ruin of a man. Yet here she was, rushing toward me, the sharp scent of steel and gunpowder clinging to her skin.


    “Ss, what’s happening to you?”


    Her voice cut through me like light through fog, but I couldn’t answer. The world was gone, reced by the weight of chains and the hiss of leather. I tore at myself, ws raking against my chest, wanting to bury the memories in flesh and bone.


    Her hands caught mine. Stronger than I expected, stubborn as only a Thorne could be. “Stop–stop hurting yourself!”


    I fought her grip, strength surging with the raw frenzy of a wolf in a trap. My body wanted to break her hold, to snap free and return to the rhythm of destruction. But she didn’t let go.


    Her voice rose, firm and steady, like amand across a battlefield. “Ss! Look at me!”


    The name anchored me, heavy and sharp.


    I wanted to sink further, drown in the torment. That would’ve been easier. But then she was on me–her weight pressing me down, pinning me to the floor. Her fingers wove through mine, ten against ten, unyielding.


    Her wolf growled through her throat when she shouted, “No one is hitting you now. Do you hear me? No one! As long as I’m here, I won’t let them. You’re safe. With me.”


    Safe.


    The word was foreign. Alien. It rattled against the cage of my ribs. My father’s voice fought to crush it: Worthless. Even as a tool, you fail. You couldn’t keep her. You’ll <b>never </b>be enough.


    Theshes struck again, blistering, burning.


    But Freya’s voice rose higher, fiercer. “Ss, wake up! I said you’re safe!”


    6:08 <b>AM </b>


    Finished


    Her scent filled the air–pine and storm–wind, touched with the faint metallic edge of the Iron Fang Recon Unit she once trained with. It pushed against the darkness, broke through the haze of blood and memory.


    I clung to her voice, the heat of her body pinning mine, her hands locked with mine so tightly I couldn’t tear away. Her eyes burned into me, steady, unflinching.


    The whip faded. The walls blurred. My father’s voice echoed, weaker now, drowned by hers.


    And slowly, painfully, rity bled back into my vision.


    The room came into focus–the whips on the walls, the shadows stretching across the floor. But instead of torment, there was her. Freya, above me, breath ragged, hair falling around her face, eyes alight with fury and something else I dared not name!


    The pain didn’t vanish. It never would. But it dulled, as if her voice had pushed it back into the pit it crawled from.


    My chest rose and fell, sharp with uneven breaths. My fingers, still tangled in hers, trembled. And for the first time in years, I felt something other than agony wing through me.


    I felt her.


    Ju Freya…


    “Freya…” My voice rasped, broken. The name felt dangerous on my tongue, too intimate, too raw.


    Her grip didn’t ease. She only leaned closer, her forehead nearly brushing mine, and growled softly, “Good. Stay with me. You’re not alone anymore.”


    Alone.


    That was all I’d ever been.


    Yet in that moment, with her scent in my lungs, her strength holding me steady, I almost believed her.


    Send <b>Gifts </b>


    98


    L