Irina’s POV

"You little bitch!"

The slap cracked across my face. I hit the floor hard, cold stone slamming into my shoulder. My body curled inward on instinct—small, tight, protected.

More blows came. Fists. Boots. I stopped counting after the first few.

My father’s foot connected with my ribs. Once. Twice. I bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out. Learned behavior. Screaming only made it worse.

When he finally stopped, my lungs burned with each shallow breath. Blood pooled in my mouth where I’d bitten through skin.

He crouched down beside me. His fingers grabbed my hair, yanking my head up. Strands ripped free from my scalp.

"Don’t play dead," he hissed. "I told you I’d show you hell."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

"My father wants to see you." Maxim’s voice. Cold. Casual.

I couldn’t see him through the hair falling across my face, but I felt his presence in the doorway. Felt his eyes on me.

My father released my hair. My head hit the floor.

"Pathetic," he muttered.

Then he was gone. The door stayed open.

Maxim stepped inside.

The air changed. Thicker. Harder to breathe.

I heard him move closer. His expensive shoes appeared in my line of vision, pristine leather unmarked by dirt or blood. Not like mine. Not like anything that touched me.

He crouched down. His hand caught my chin, fingers digging into bruised skin as he forced my face up.

"I didn’t think you had it in you," he said. "Running like that."

My voice came out broken. Hoarse. "I don’t know where Katerina is. I’ve told you a hundred times."

His hand moved so fast I didn’t see it coming.

The slap knocked my head sideways. My ear rang, high-pitched and awful. The taste of copper flooded my mouth again.

"Don’t say her name."

Katerina. My stepsister. Beautiful, confident Katerina who was supposed to marry Maxim a year ago. Who found her true mate three days before the ceremony and ran away with him instead.

Maxim went insane after that. The kind of insane that needed an outlet.

I became that outlet.

He thought I helped her leave. Thought I knew where she’d gone. No matter how many times I told him I didn’t, he refused to believe it.

Or maybe he did believe it. Maybe he just needed someone to hurt.

"After everything," Maxim said, his face inches from mine, "you still won’t tell me where she is?"

"I don’t know."

"Liar." His breath was hot against my cheek. "You want to run too, don’t you? Want to find her? Reunite with your precious sister?"

"I don’t—"

"Shut up."

He shoved me away. I collapsed back onto the floor, too weak to catch myself. My body screamed in protest—every muscle, every bone, every inch of damaged skin.

Without my wolf, nothing healed. The bruises from last week were still dark purple across my ribs. The cuts on my arms from two weeks ago hadn’t fully closed. Layer upon layer of hurt, piling up with nowhere to go.

Maxim stood. Wiped his hands on his pants like he’d touched something dirty.

"Since you won’t talk," he said, "you’ll pay in other ways."

He stared down at me for another moment. Then he turned and walked out, slamming the cell door behind him.

The lock clicked into place.

Silence.

I lay there on the cold stone floor, too tired to move. Too broken to care.

Sleep found me eventually. Or maybe I just passed out. Hard to tell the difference anymore.

Cold water hit me like a fist.

I jerked upright, gasping, choking on the water flooding my nose and mouth. My hands scrabbled against wet stone as I tried to get my bearings.

"Sleep well?" Alexei’s voice. My stepbrother.

He stood over me with an empty bucket, grinning.

"What do you want?" The words scraped out of my throat, barely audible.

"Father wants to see you."

He dropped the bucket. It clattered against the floor, the sound echoing off the cell walls.

I tried to stand. My legs shook. My vision swam. The room tilted sideways and I had to grab the wall to keep from falling.

He didn’t help. Just watched me struggle, that smirk never leaving his face.

It took three tries to get upright. When I finally managed it, I had to lean against the wall to stay that way.

"Move," Alexei said.

I moved.

One step. Then another. My bare feet left wet prints on the stone floor. Water dripped from my hair, my dress, pooling in my wake.

The walk to my father’s study felt endless. Every step sent pain shooting through my body. My ribs ached. My head pounded. My vision kept blurring at the edges.

Alexei walked behind me. Not helping. Just herding me forward like livestock.

We reached the study door.

Alexei knocked once, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

My father sat behind his desk. Same desk where he used to let me do homework as a child. Same chair where he’d read me bedtime stories.

Different man entirely.

"Come in," he said. His voice was flat. Businesslike.

I stepped inside. Alexei stayed in the doorway.

"Because of your little stunt last night," my father began, not looking up from the papers on his desk, "there’s now a situation between our pack and Blood Birch."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"As punishment, your rank is being reduced to omega servant."

"You’re being removed from this family."

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. The sound came out sharp and bitter.

"Weren’t you already treating me like I didn’t exist?"

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. Cold. Empty.

"Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" The words spilled out before I could stop them. "You’ll beat me? Lock me up? You’re already doing that."

His hand slammed down on the desk. The crack echoed through the room.

I flinched. Hated myself for it.

"You have no idea what I could do to you," he said quietly.

The quiet was worse than shouting. Always worse.

"But I don’t need to dirty my hands anymore." He picked up a pen, clicked it once. "You’ve been sold."

The words didn’t register at first.

Sold.

"What?"

"After your eighteenth birthday," he continued, still not looking at me, "you’ll be transferred to the largest underground organization in the region."

No.

"As a sex slave."