Zayn thrashed in his sleep, his breath ragged, chest heaving like he was drowning. Sweat soaked through the sheets, clinging to his skin as he twisted under its weight. The nightmare was back again.
It always came , sudden, choking, too real to be just a dream. A memory burned into his bones.
They were forcing something down his throat. Thick. Bitter. It scorched its way down, lighting every nerve on fire. He tried to scream, but the iron muzzle strapped over his mouth cut into his jaw, silencing him. His limbs jerked uncontrollably. His muscles locked. His skin crawled, blistering from the inside out.
He collapsed, shaking, but they didn’t stop. They laughed. Chains clinked. Hands grabbed him, yanking him up like he weighed nothing. They dragged him through the dirt, past bloodstains and shattered weapons.
The arena. He knew this place too well. The sky above was dark, the pit below covered in darkness. And the faces in the crowd were all from the Thunder Paw pack. Brightpaw’s people. They watched expectantly.
His humiliation had become a form of sport and recreation for the pack. Some even made bets on how long he would last and how many would die at every show.
“Fight!” someone barked.
“Show them what an Alpha is worth!” That voice. Xavier. Lily’s brother.
Zayn’s blood turned cold despite the fire crawling through him. He would never forget that voice. Mocking. Cruel. That bastard had stood above it all, watching as his men forced Zayn to his knees, poured the poison into his mouth, and laughed when he convulsed.
‘May you rot in hell. If I survive, I will come after you. You will beg to die...but death would be too merciful.’
They pushed people at him. Familiar faces. Men he’d trained. Brothers in arms. They didn’t want to fight him. He could see it in their eyes.
But the poison didn’t care. It turned him into a deranged monster. His wolf broke loose, wild, furious, and blind with pain. He couldn’t think or feel. He had gone berserk as always. He tore through them one by one, claws ripping, teeth sinking, screams echoing through the pit.
Their screams. His growls. He couldn’t stop or pull himself back. Until he heard it.
“Zayn...” The voice was small. Weak. Zayn froze. He turned, and everything inside him shattered. Sanity returned, instantly and cruely.
A boy lay in the dirt, barely breathing. Blood soaked the ground around him, leaking from a fatal wound Zayn didn’t even remember making. Dark curls stuck to his forehead, his chest rising in shallow, shaky breaths. His eyes were wide, soft, full of pain.
“Leo?” Zayn’s voice cracked. “No. No, no—”
The world tilted. He dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he reached out, too afraid to touch him. His wolf whimpered deep inside, frantic and confused.
Leo looked up at him, struggling to smile through the pain. “You didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I know...”
Zayn shook his head, desperate. “No-no! No!!! Please, just—stay with me.”
But Leo’s eyes fluttered shut. His hand fell away.
And everything went still. Zayn fell to his knees and wailed, cradling his brother. fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com
Zayn shot upright in bed, choking on air, the memory still clinging to him like smoke. His chest heaved. His body shook. He clutched the sheets in tight fists, but they didn’t ground him.
His eyes darted to his hands—clean, trembling, but all he could see was blood. Leo’s blood.
He bent forward, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. His stomach twisted. His heart was a drum pounding in his throat.
He got out of bed, his legs heavy beneath him. The room was dark, but he didn’t need light. The nightmare was already branded into his mind.
He splashed cold water on his face, gripping the edge of the basin with white-knuckled hands. His reflection stared back—haunted eyes, a hollow where his heart used to be.
He wasn’t in that pit anymore, but part of him never really left. He would never forget what Xavier had taken from him.
Zayn pulled on a loose shirt and stepped outside. The night air hit him like a wave, cool, damp, sharp with the scent of grass and earth.
He inhaled slowly and.... Her scent. Faint, but there. Soft, like crushed flowers, and underneath it, something wild. Familiar and soothing.
Without thinking, he followed the scent. Down the path, through the trees, guided by instinct, it led him to the fields.
At first, he saw only outlines, slaves bent low in the dirt, working under moonlight. Silent. Just the dull rhythm of digging, pulling, scraping. Shadows of people who had nothing left to give but still kept going.
Then he saw her. Lily.
She was in the far corner as always, away from the others, hunched and slow. Her left arm was pressed tight against her side, where the wound still hadn’t healed right. She worked with her good arm, dragging it through the soil with effort. Every movement looked painful. But she didn’t stop.
Zayn’s jaw clenched. ‘She shouldn’t be here,’ he thought. ‘Not after everything. Not .’
[You made this happen, remember?] His wolf had an attachment to Lily.
He stayed in the shadows, watching. One of the other slaves muttered something and shoved her. She hit the ground hard, her wounded shoulder taking the blow. Zayn’s whole body tensed as she struggled to get back up. Her one good hand trembled, pushing weakly against the earth.
The others didn’t stop. They didn’t even look her way. Zayn felt something twist deep inside his chest. The same heavy weight—guilt.
He thought of Martha, how she had stood over Lily’s body, begging him to help. He thought of Bianca, daring to speak up when no one else would. And still... Lily ended up here.
‘Why? Why wouldn’t she give up? Why wouldn’t she stop?’ His hands curled into fists. He took a step forward. Then stopped.
‘What am I doing?’ he thought. ‘I’ve already made my choice.’
He looked at her one last time, then turned and walked into the trees. By the time he reached the edge of the woods, he was already shifting. His wolf raced through the forest. It was the only way he knew how to outrun the memories.
By morning, Zayn called for a meeting. The office was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire and the low rustle of maps being rolled up at the far end of the table.
Beta Ezra leaned against the wall, arms folded. Victoria sat across from Zayn, legs crossed, lips already painted blood-red though the sun had barely risen.
“You said this was urgent,” Ezra muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It is,” Zayn said, his voice sharp. “We just got word—the Alpha King will be here in two days. Three neighboring Alphas and their Lunas are coming with him.”
Victoria’s eyes lit up instantly. “Alpha King Dace?” she said, sitting straighter. “Here? In two days?” fr\eewebno vel .c(o)m
Zayn nodded once. “They want to speak in person. About alliances. Power. The future of this pack.”
Ezra gave a low whistle. “And what brought this on?”
“Too many rogue attacks. Too much unrest. Everyone’s testing boundaries. The King wants to know who’s still loyal, who’s going to lead.”
Victoria smiled, adjusting the ring on her finger. “Well, I suppose we’ll need to impress them, won’t we?”
Zayn said. “That’s why I’ve calling this meeting. Everything needs to be perfect. The packhouse. The warriors. The fields. The servants.”
He looked pointedly at Victoria. “And the slaves.”
Her smile flickered for a second. “Of course.”
“There’s one in particular they want to see.”
She didn’t ask who. She already knew. f.r(e)e\webn.ovel.co\m
“Lily,” Zayn said flatly. “She needs to be clean. Presentable. No bruises, no blood. I don’t want her looking like some half-dead girl dragged in from the woods.”
Victoria’s nose wrinkled slightly. “She’s barely healed. And she’s not exactly... pleasant to look at.”
Zayn’s voice dropped. “Fix that. She’s important to them. They asked for her.”
Victoria’s eyes widened, with interest. “They asked?”
“The Alpha King. And the others. They want to meet her and see her with their own eyes.”
Her expression soured. She had never liked having to cater to Lily. The girl made her uncomfortable. No matter how many times she was knocked down, she kept getting back up.
But this? This was an opportunity to stand in front of royals and shine.
Victoria smiled again. “It will be done.”
Ezra raised an eyebrow. “You really think dragging that girl out in front of royals is smart?”
“I’m not asking if it’s smart,” Zayn said. “I’m telling you it’s necessary. She has value.”
Ezra stared at him, frowning. “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”
Zayn didn’t reply. He couldn’t. It bothered him that the royals saw value in her.