CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Pain cuts through the darkness like shattered glass, dragging me back to consciousness with cruel efficiency.
My skull throbs with every heartbeat, and my limbs feel like they're made of lead.
I try to move and metal clanks against stone—shackles bind my wrists and ankles to the damp basement walls.
The air tastes of mold and despair. A single flickering candle provides the only light, casting dancing shadows across crumbling stone. Water drips somewhere in the darkness, each drop marking time I don't have.
This is Jax's cage.
Footsteps echo on the stairs above, measured and deliberate. I force myself to sit straighter despite the agony screaming through my body, refusing to show weakness even in this hole.
Jax appears in the candlelight, his storm-gray eyes filled with false sympathy. "You're awake. Good." His voice carries that eerie calm that makes my skin crawl. "The door remains unlocked, Aubrey. You can leave whenever you change your mind about helping me."
I let out a cold laugh that scrapes my throat raw. "I'd rather rot down here than help my father's murderer."
His expression doesn't change, but something dark flickers behind his eyes. "Reflect on that decision. I have all the time in the world."
The days blur together into an endless cycle of humiliation. Jax's people take turns "watching over" me—dousing me with filthy water, spitting in the scraps they call food, hurling insults designed to break my spirit.
A guard with rotting teeth kicks my food bowl across the stone floor, laughing as stale bread soaks up puddle water. "Eat up, princess. Lord Jax says you need to learn humility."
Another yanks my hair back and forces my face toward the contaminated mess. "This is what traitors deserve. You should be grateful he's giving you anything at all."
They call me worthless, a burden, a pathetic girl who thinks she's better than her betters. One woman spits directly in my water cup before handing it to me, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "Drink up. Lord Jax wants you hydrated for tomorrow's lesson."
Through it all, Avery makes sure I know this is Jax's will, his way of helping me "see reason." She appears daily with that false concerned expression, tutting over my condition while ensuring the guards understand their orders come directly from their master.
"He could end your suffering so easily," she purrs, crouching beside my chained form. "One word of submission, and this all stops. He's being merciful, really. Teaching you through experience rather than simply breaking your neck like he did that disobedient Alpha."
But I endure it all without breaking. Every taunt, every degradation only strengthens my resolve. They want submission? They'll get defiance until my last breath.
Time becomes meaningless in the suffocating darkness, but gradually I feel my wolf stirring back to life. The mate rejection bond weakens as my body heals, strength returning drop by precious drop.
Days pass—maybe weeks. The guards grow careless, confident in my apparent defeat. They see my silence as surrender, my stillness as resignation. They don't notice how my breathing has steadied, how the tremors in my hands have stopped, how my eyes track their movements with predatory calculation.
I wait. I plan. I survive.
Tonight feels different. My wolf is strong enough now, coiled like a spring waiting to unleash.
When the guard comes with tonight's meal—stale bread and rancid water—I'm ready.
The moment he steps within reach, I strike.
My fist connects with his temple in a perfectly placed blow, and he crumples without a sound.
I snatch his keys with trembling fingers and unlock the shackles. They hit the floor with a satisfying clang as I slip from the cell, moving through dimly lit corridors toward what I hope is freedom.
A sliver of light draws my attention—a door left slightly ajar. Something pulls me toward it, an instinct I can't ignore.
I peer inside and the world stops.
Nora's lifeless body lies crumpled in the corner, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. But it's not just her death that freezes my blood—it's how familiar this looks. The exact position, the specific angle of her broken neck, the way her auburn hair fans across the stone.
This is exactly how my mother died.
Shock overwhelms me, my mind momentarily going blank. But before I can recover, a shadow looms over me. Jax has found me.