Chapter 2

Lina’s POV

The guards dragged me through the snow, my bare feet leaving crimson trails as they hauled me toward a waiting truck. My screams had dissolved into whimpers, each breath sending daggers of pain through my broken ribs. The silver-infused ropes burned my wrists like acid, a constant reminder that I was powerless.

"Please," I whispered, though I knew my pleas would fall on deaf ears. "I'm innocent." The metal floor of the truck was ice-cold against my skin, sending violent shivers through my battered body.

"Shut up, murderer," another guard spat, his saliva landing on my cheek. "The Werebears will put you to good use."

The doors slammed shut, plunging me into darkness broken only by thin slivers of moonlight through the cracks. The truck engine roared to life, and we lurched forward, each bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through my body.

We're going to die there, Snow whimpered in my mind, her voice faint with terror.

"I know," I whispered, curling into myself despite the stabbing pain from my broken ribs. My entire body trembled uncontrollably, not just from the cold but from bone-deep dread. The stories haunted every wolf cub's nightmares—tales of slaves beaten until their bones shattered, of females violated until they lost their minds. Some said the tribe head kept trophies from those who died under his torture. Others whispered that no female slave lasted more than a month before taking her own life.

The journey stretched into a nightmare without end. Each bump in the road sent fresh waves of agony through my battered body, forcing whimpers through my clenched teeth. Blood from my torn wrists trickled down my arms as the silver ropes burned deeper into my flesh.

When the truck finally stopped, I was barely conscious. The doors crashed open, sending me into a panic as rough hands grabbed my ankles and dragged me out. My head hit the metal floor with a sickening crack before I tumbled face-first into the snow. I couldn't even scream anymore—my voice had been reduced to a ragged whisper, my throat raw from earlier cries.

A massive figure approached, his footsteps making the ground tremble beneath my cheek.

"This the one from Aurora Pack?" His voice was deep and guttural, like rocks grinding together.

"Yes, sir. Payment has been arranged. She's all yours now."

I was thrust forward, falling to my knees in the snow before the Werebear leader. A rough hand grabbed my chin, forcing my face upward. I found myself staring into a pair of ugly eyes I had ever seen.

"Pretty little thing," he growled, his breath hot and rancid against my face. "You belong to our leader now." My entire body trembled uncontrollably as he examined me like livestock, turning my face from side to side, running a calloused finger along my jawline.

"Take her to the slave quarters," he ordered, releasing my chin with a dismissive flick. "Get her cleaned up and working by morning. Death row wolves don't get to rest."

Two Wearbear guards grabbed my arms, dragging me through the compound. My legs barely supported me as we passed fire pits where hybrid warriors drank and laughed, their eyes following my progress with predatory interest. The smell of unwashed bodies, blood, and alcohol hung heavy in the air.

We descended a set of crude wooden stairs into what appeared to be an underground cellar. The stench of unwashed bodies and despair hit me like a physical blow as the door creaked open. In the dim light, I could make out dozens of dirty, emaciated figures huddled together on the bare earth floor, some stirring at our entrance while others remained motionless.

"New meat," one of the guards announced, shoving me forward with enough force to send me sprawling onto the ground. My fall disturbed several sleeping slaves, who grumbled in annoyance. Others simply stared at me with hollow eyes, too broken to care about one more addition to their ranks.

The door slammed shut behind me, the sound of a heavy lock sliding into place echoing in the dank space. I remained where I had fallen, too terrified and exhausted to move, my eyes darting around the dark cellar.

Don't sleep, Snow warned, her voice tight with fear. Not tonight.

I nodded slightly, pulling myself into a sitting position against the cold stone wall. Every muscle screamed in protest, and my broken ribs sent fresh waves of agony through my chest. But I forced my eyes to stay open, watching the shadows for any movement, listening to the sounds of labored breathing and occasional whimpers around me.

By the time gray light began filtering through the tiny, barred window near the ceiling, my body was stiff with cold and my eyelids felt like they were weighted with stones.

A loud banging on the door startled me from my daze. "Up! All of you, up now!" a harsh voice commanded.

The cellar erupted into movement as slaves hurriedly rose, some helping others to their feet. I struggled upright, using the wall for support, my legs nearly buckling beneath me.

One of the guards pointed to a wooden barrel in the corner. "New one, wash yourself. You stink of wolf pack."

I limped to the barrel, finding it filled with icy water. Next to it lay a pile of rough, dirty cloth—slave garments. With trembling hands, I splashed water on my face and neck, the cold shocking my system into greater alertness. I quickly pulled on the coarse brown tunic and pants, the fabric scratching against my skin.

We were herded out of the cellar into the harsh morning light, which pierced my eyes like needles after the darkness below. I stumbled, nearly falling as my legs threatened to give out beneath me. A guard's whip cracked inches from my face. "Move, bitch!" he snarled. I was shoved roughly into line with other slaves heading toward what appeared to be a kitchen area, my broken ribs screaming in protest with each step.

As we approached the kitchen, hushed voices drifted from inside. I recognized the cruel edge of ambition in their tone before I even made out the words.

"Mother, I'm telling you, Cole looked at me yesterday. If I can just get him alone..." It was a female voice, dripping with calculation.

"Patience, Bella. The Alpha needs a proper female, not these filthy slaves. Your time will come." The older woman's voice was equally conniving. "Once he takes you, we'll be free of this slave status. Perhaps even become his family."

I froze. My foot caught on the uneven threshold, sending me stumbling into the kitchen. Two pairs of eyes snapped toward me – a younger woman with matted golden hair and her older, haggard-looking mother. The younger one narrowed her eyes, fury and suspicion replacing the ambition that had animated her face seconds before.

"What did you hear, new meat?" she hissed, stalking toward me like a predator.

"N-nothing," I stammered, backing away. "I just arrived—"

Without warning, she slapped me hard across my already bruised face. The force knocked me against the wall, sending fresh waves of agony through my broken ribs. I bit my lip until I tasted blood to keep from crying out.

"Mother, look at this one," she spat, grabbing my chin and wrenching my face toward the light. "Blonde hair, pretty face under all that dirt. Just Cole's type."

The older woman studied me with cold calculation. "She'll be trouble."

Her eyes flashed with jealousy. "Not if we make sure she's properly broken first." She grabbed a pot of scalding soup broth from the fire and thrust it toward me. "Clean this, bitch. With your hands."

My eyes widened in horror as the steam rose from the nearly boiling liquid. "It's too hot—"

A hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back painfully. "You question orders, blonde bitch?" She shoved my hands toward the pot while the other woman laughed.

I managed to pull back just enough to avoid severe burns, but the hot liquid still splashed over my raw, already damaged skin. Tears sprang to my eyes as blisters formed almost instantly.

"When you're done with that," she sneered, deliberately knocking a jar of flour onto the clean floor, "you can start scrubbing from the beginning. And if I find a single spot when you're finished..." She trailed off, running her finger across my collarbone in a threatening caress.

The morning passed in a haze of pain and humiliation. My scalded hands screamed in protest as I scrubbed every surface in the kitchen. By midday, I could barely remain upright. My stomach twisted painfully with hunger—I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

I heard commotion outside—the hunting party returning. My body instinctively tensed, trying to make itself smaller, less noticeable. My stomach growled painfully at the smell of fresh meat.

A sudden shift in the air made my skin prickle with awareness. A new scent approached—musky, dominant, and tinged with blood. Cole Stone-- the leader of the tribe. I kept my head down, focusing intently on the floor I was cleaning, but some instinct made me glance up momentarily.

I met his eyes.

In that split second, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. Cole's expression darkened as he stalked toward me, his massive frame casting a shadow over my kneeling form. I dropped my gaze immediately, but it was too late.

Rough fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up. Cole's evil and ugly smile sent ice through my veins as he examined my face. Then, without warning, his open palm connected with my cheek in a stinging slap that sent me sprawling. The surrounding tribe members laughed, their amusement like salt in the wound.

"You dare look at me?" Cole roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "Have I not told you the consequences of disrespect, whore?" His grip tightened painfully on my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head frantically. Snow whimpered in my mind before retreating deep into my consciousness.

Cole brushed my hair back from my face with his filthy fingers, his eyes suddenly lighting with predatory interest as he examined me more closely. A hungry smile spread across his face, revealing yellowed teeth. His foul breath—reeking of rotten meat and alcohol—washed over me as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a threatening growl that made my skin crawl.

"Such a pretty little thing hiding under all this dirt," he murmured, his calloused thumb roughly tracing my trembling lower lip. "I need to teach you a lesson you'll never forget about your place as a slave." His grip tightened painfully in my hair, forcing my head back until our eyes met. "Be ready for me tonight, blonde bitch. I'm going to fuck you until you scream, and you'll take it like the worthless whore you are."

His eyes traveled down my body with such naked lust that I felt violated already. "Make sure you clean that body thoroughly tonight—I want you spotless when I break you in." He licked his lips, the sound wet and obscene. "And when I'm done using you, my warriors get their turn."

The plaza erupted in loud cheers and crude gestures, warriors calling out the vile things they planned to do to me. Some grabbed their crotches, others made explicit thrusting motions.

My entire body went cold with horror, then hot with shame. The reality of what awaited me tonight crashed down with such force that I couldn't breathe. Bile rose in my throat, burning and acidic. I swallowed repeatedly, fighting the urge to vomit as violent tremors wracked my frame.

Through my tears, I noticed that golden-hair slave standing in the crowd, her face contorted with such jealousy and hatred that it seemed to transform her features into something inhuman.

When Cole and his warriors finally walked away, their laughter echoing across the compound, I remained collapsed on the ground, my body shaking so violently my teeth chattered. Panic clawed at my chest, making each breath shallow and painful. He said tonight. Tonight. The full moon.

Tonight was the full moon—when Snow would be slightly stronger, perhaps strong enough to break through the binding spell, if only for a short time. It was my only chance.

I'll protect you, Snow, I promised silently. I'll protect us both. I'd rather die with teeth at my throat in the wilderness than live one more day as their plaything.