Chapter 3

Ava POV:

The next morning, Donovan was gone. The maids whispered that he had stayed on the yacht with Chloe.

I was summoned to the Council Hall.

The Elders of the Blackwood Pack were old, traditional men who cared only about lineage and power. I walked into the circular room, my head held high despite the fear churning in my gut.

"Where is Alpha Donovan?" Elder Thomas asked, his voice like grinding stones.

"He is... handling border disputes," I lied smoothly.

"Liar!"

The cane struck the table with a crack that made me flinch. It was Donovan's grandfather, the former Alpha, Silas Blackwood. He was a cruel man, the one who had taught Donovan that love was a weakness.

He threw a stack of photos onto the table. They were the pictures from the news-Donovan and Chloe on the yacht.

"The whole world is laughing at us!" Silas roared. "An Alpha who parades his mistress while his Luna sits at home like a useless ornament! You have failed to capture his heart, Isabella. You have failed to give us an heir. You are weak."

"I cannot force him to love me," I said quietly.

"Love?" Silas spat. "I'm talking about duty! If you cannot seduce your husband, you are useless to this pack."

He signaled to the guards. Two large warriors grabbed my arms.

"No!" I struggled, but I was powerless against them. They dragged me toward the back of the hall, toward the 'Correction Room.'

"A lesson," Silas said, following us. "To remind you of your place."

They threw me onto the cold concrete floor. Silas raised his cane. It was made of polished hickory, but I knew the tip was dipped in liquid wolfsbane.

Whack.

The cane struck my back. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I would not scream. I would not give them the satisfaction.

Whack.

The wolfsbane burned through my shirt, sizzling against my skin. My nerves felt like they were on fire. Seraphina howled in agony, but she was too weak to heal me.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

I lost count. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

I woke up in my bed at the estate. My back was on fire. Every breath was a struggle.

I turned my head and saw a figure sitting in the armchair. Donovan.

He looked... tired. He was staring at me with a strange expression. Not love, but perhaps curiosity.

"Grandfather told me what happened," he said, his voice low. "He said you didn't scream. Not once."

I tried to sit up, but the pain forced me back down. "I didn't want to give him the pleasure."

Donovan stood up and walked to the bed. He reached out, his hand hovering over my face. "Why do you stay? Why do you endure this? Is it... loyalty?"

For a second, his fingers brushed my cheek. A spark-tiny, weak, but there-jumped between us. His eyes widened. He leaned in closer, inhaling sharply. The scent blocker was wearing off slightly due to the trauma.

"Isabella?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "You smell like..."

Link: Donovan! Help me! My stomach! It hurts!

Chloe's voice screamed through the mind-link, loud enough that even I could sense the distress radiating from him.

Donovan pulled back as if burned. The softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by panic.

"Chloe needs me," he said abruptly. He turned his back on me. "Rest. We have the charity gala tonight. You must attend."

"Donovan," I rasped. "I can't move."

"You will be there," he commanded, walking out the door. "Image is everything."

Three hours later, I was in a car, heavily medicated with painkillers, driven by a driver to a boutique in town. Donovan had ordered a new dress to cover the bandages.

I stepped out of the car, my legs shaking. People on the street stared. I looked like a ghost.

Donovan met me there. He looked guilty, which annoyed me more than his anger. He bought the most expensive silk gown in the shop-a blood-red dress with long sleeves and a high back.

"This will hide the marks," he said, handing the box to the assistant.

We walked out of the shop. Across the street, near a construction site, Chloe was waiting. She saw us, saw the shopping bag, and her face twisted in jealousy.

"Donovan!" she called out, running toward us. She ignored the 'Do Not Enter' signs of the construction zone. "You promised to have lunch with me!"

"Chloe, wait, it's not safe!" Donovan shouted.

She ran into the scaffolding area, playing the damsel. "I'm so dizzy, Donovan!"

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed. A metal clamp high above gave way. A pile of steel pipes and heavy wooden planks began to slide.

Directly above Chloe.

"No!" Donovan roared. He shifted-partially-his claws extending, and he sprinted toward her with supernatural speed.

He tackled her, covering her body with his own just as the debris crashed down.

Dust billowed into the air.

"Donovan!" I screamed, running forward despite my injuries.

The dust settled. Donovan was groaning, a heavy pipe across his legs. But Chloe... Chloe was screaming. A piece of rebar had pierced her side. Blood-bright red and copious-was pooling around her.

"My baby!" she shrieked, though she wasn't pregnant. "I'm dying! Donovan!"

Donovan shoved the pipes off himself, ignoring his own broken leg which was already snapping back into place. He gathered Chloe in his arms.

He looked at me, his eyes wild with panic.

"Call the hospital!" he roared at me. "If she dies, Isabella, I will destroy this entire town!"