Chapter 8 Esmeralda's POV

The biting chill that seeps through my bones feels familiar. I had once lived under such conditions for years before being sold off as a breeder.

Every muscle in me protests as I try to move. My skin prickles painfully, as I turn wondering where I was. The room they had thrown me in is pitch-black, with the kind of darkness that makes you doubt if your eyes are open at all.

Panic stirs as my mind tries to make sense of what is happening. The last thing I remember is Sheldon's intense, unreadable gaze before he commanded the guards. My heart had stuttered at the coldness in his voice, and the brutal indifference in his eyes as he looked at me.

I press my numb hand to my chest, trying to steady the frantic beat of my heart and wrapping myself up with the piece of cloth that had now turned stiff. "I'm stronger than this," I whisper to myself, my words muffled by the cold. "I have to be."

Just then, footsteps echo down the hall. I tense, straining to hear. The slow, deliberate steps grew louder, until they stopped just outside my cell. A key rattled in the lock, and the door creaked open, spilling a sliver of dim light into the room.

A guard steps inside, staying in the shadows. "You're being moved," he says gruffly, reaching for me with rough hands.

I wince as he grabs my arm, yanking me up without a word. My legs wobble, barely holding me as he drags me into the corridor. The harsh light makes my eyes water, and I blink against it, disoriented.

As we pass the narrow, bleak hallways, I gather my strength, forcing myself to stay alert. If Sheldon thought he could break me by locking me away, he has to think I was made of ice or something.

I grit my teeth against the pain, both from the bruised nights and the horrors of what it meant to be labeled as a breeder. I don't know where he's taking me, but the ominous silence in the air tells me it won't be somewhere good.

We emerge into a grand hall filled with shadows, its beauty seems to be mocking the ugliness of the dungeons below.

High-ranking pack members line the walls, their faces impassive as they observe me with cold detachment. My gaze flickers over them, stopping only when it reaches the tall figure sitting at a throne at the end of the room.

Karel. She sits there, draped in finery, her expression a mask of icy arrogance as she regards me. Her eyes narrow as they settle on me, and a flicker of something darker curls at the edges of her gaze.

"Bring her forward," she orders, her voice ringing through the hall, smooth but laced with venom.

The guard pushes me ahead roughly, forcing me to stumble forward. My legs are still weak, and I nearly collapse as I fall to my knees at the foot of her throne.

She stands, her cold gaze never leaving me. In her hand, she holds a long horse whip, its leather coiled and ready as she plays with it. "Do you know why you're here?" she asks, her voice deceptively sweet.

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes level with hers. "I don't," I reply, keeping my tone steady despite the tremor running through me.

She tilts her head, feigning pity. "You are nothing but a breeder and an inconvenience to the Alpha." She steps forward, swinging the whip through the air, the crack echoing in the room. "And it's time you learn your place."

Without warning, she strikes. The whip lashes across my back, and I bite down hard, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream. Pain sears through me, tearing a gasp from my lips as I feel my skin break under the force. I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I bear the pain.

"Still holding your head up, are you?" she sneers coldly, delivering another brutal lash that nearly brings me to my knees. I can feel warm blood seeping down my back, but I grit my teeth, lifting my chin even as tears prick at my eyes.

Karel steps closer, her voice dropping to a wicked whisper. "Let this remind you that you're nothing. You're not his mate, nor are you worthy of his attention. You're merely a tool, and when you've served your purpose, you'll be discarded like the trash that you are."

She brings the whip down one last time, harder than before, and I finally falter, the impact sending me crumpling to the floor. I gasp for breath, my body aching, the pain twisting through me like fire. Every part of me wants to cry, to scream, but I hold it all inside.

As I lie there, trembling, I hear her chuckle softly, a sound of triumph as she steps away. "Take her back to the dungeon," she orders coldly, her voice laced with satisfaction.

The guard drag me up, taking my broken body back down the corridor. Sheldon hadn't been present there. I take little comfort in knowing that he hadn't seen me in that state.

Maybe he just didn't want to see me like that.

I am probably being delusional but I can't help but hope in vain.

The guard throws me back into the cell like I'm nothing more than a sack of potatoes. The door slams shut with a metallic clang, and I'm left alone once more, the silence pressing in around me.

For a long moment, I lie on the cold, damp floor, the pain making me inhale air jagged and raw. And then, when I can't hold it back any longer, the tears spill over. I cry silently, clutching my bruised arms around myself, letting the rage and despair bleed from me in quiet sobs. This can't be my life. I can't let them break me down to nothing.

I have to escape. Staying here means death.

As my tears dry, a sudden noise shatters the silence. Footsteps pound down the corridor outside my cell. I freeze, straining to listen, my heart pounding in my chest. Whoever it is, they're coming fast. The desperation in their pace stirs something in me, hope.

The footsteps stop right outside my cell, and a deep, familiar voice calls out, low and frantic. "Esmeralda."