Suffocating Regret

His hand locked onto my throat like a clamp of molten iron. The sudden, violent pressure shoved me back against the unyielding earth, cutting off my air supply before I could even manage a gasp. I clawed at his wrist, my nails scraping uselessly against skin as tough as leather, but his grip didn't waver. His grin—a jagged, cruel expression—loomed over me in the moonlight, illuminated by the distant torches of the camp.

“I thought you weren’t going to kill me,” I choked out, the words scratching against my constricted windpipe. “Going back on your word already?”

His fingers tightened, bruising the soft tissue of my neck. I felt spots dancing in my vision, the edges of my world narrowing into a terrifying, suffocating tunnel.

“I have no intention of killing you, Maeve,” he growled, leaning so close I could smell the sharp, metallic scent of blood clinging to him. “But I am going to make you regret ever being mated to Cade.”

The irony was a bitter, icy blade in my gut. If only this monster knew. I already regretted it. I regretted every moment of that union with every atom of my being. Cade was the reason I was gasping for air on the dirt floor of a stranger’s territory; he was the reason I was shivering in the darkness, hunted and discarded. If he hadn’t been such a spineless fool, if he hadn’t chased after that woman, I wouldn’t be staring into the eyes of a man who looked ready to dismantle my very soul.

Maybe I should have killed that bitch myself when I had the chance. The thought burned, hotter than the lack of oxygen stealing the consciousness from my brain. I had trusted him. I had given him everything, and this was the fucking reward.

My body went limp as the Alpha tightened his hold, my vision flickering in and out. I was drowning on dry land, my face flushed with the pressure, my lungs screaming for mercy. Just as I thought the void would claim me—that I would fade out and leave my unborn child alone in this godforsaken forest—he released me.

I collapsed, a heavy, dead weight against the dirt, coughing violently as air rushed back into my tortured lungs. The oxygen burned, but it was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted.

“Lock her up in the special cell,” he barked, not bothering to look back at me.

Before I could even drag my shaking limbs beneath me, the guards were on me. They hauled me up by my arms, their grip bruising, and dragged me away from the clearing. I didn't have the strength to fight, not even to ask for mercy. My body felt hollow, a vessel of pain and exhaustion, but I kept my focus on the one thing that mattered.

My child.

I had to keep going for the baby. If I let go, the little life inside me would die too.

They shoved me into a space that smelled of stagnant rot and old, heavy magic. It wasn't the dungeon I’d been in before; it was smaller, a cramped box that seemed to swallow the light. My knees buckled as they tossed me inside, and I sprawled onto a threadbare, moth-eaten rug that lay in the center of the floor. They didn't give me a chance to recover. A heavy iron gate clanged shut, and the grinding sound of a lock engaging echoed through the silence.

I crawled to the bars, calling out, but they were already walking away.

That was when the sensation hit me—a creeping, oily feeling beneath my skin. The room was coated in something thick and vile, a suppressant that seeped into my pores and paralyzed my wolf. I collapsed back onto the rug, shivering as my internal strength evaporated. I was entirely human now, stripped of my edge, fragile and agonizingly vulnerable.

Days bled into a black, endless stretch of misery.

There were no windows, no shifts of light to tell day from night. I only knew the passage of time by the rhythmic stomp of the guards' boots outside the door. Every twelve hours, the shift changed. Every twelve hours, I hoped for a crack in the door, a glimmer of light, a scrap of food.

But nothing came.

Starvation began to claw at my insides, a sharp, gnawing hunger that felt like acid. I was failing. I was a terrible mother, already starving the child I was meant to protect. I lay on the rug, curled in a fetal position, counting my heartbeats to prove to myself that I was still alive. My bones felt brittle, my muscles atrophied, and the darkness was starting to feel less like a prison and more like a shroud.

Then, the silence broke.

The heavy gate creaked open, the sound screeching through the stagnant air. I scrambled up, my heart hammering, hope flaring in my chest despite the weakness. A maid stepped into the room. She was broad-shouldered, a woman of solid, unforgiving muscle who looked like she could break me in half without a second thought.

I looked behind her, searching for a tray, a loaf of bread, anything. There was nothing.

“Why are you here?” I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel.

She didn't answer. She only leveled a cold, impatient glare at me before reaching down to unlock my shackles. As the iron fell away, my legs gave out instantly. I slumped against her, my muscles feeling like wet noodles, utterly incapable of supporting my weight.

Without a word of warning, she hoisted me over her shoulder, tossing me up as if I were a bag of laundry. I didn't struggle. I didn't have the fuel for it. I just hung there, limp and humiliated, as she carried me out into a winding, lightless corridor.

She marched until we reached a room that glowed with a dim, artificial light. In the center sat a deep, steaming tub.

She dumped me onto the stone floor. I scrambled to regain my balance, shivering in the sudden chill of the room. She didn't speak, but her gaze was a command. She watched me, her expression unreadable, as I fumbled with my filthy, torn clothes. I had nothing left to hide, no dignity left to cling to, so I stripped and stepped into the water.

The warmth was an electric shock to my system. It smelled faintly of lemons—a clean, sharp scent that felt bizarre in this hellhole.

The maid stepped closer, picking up a cloth. She began to scrub my skin, her movements surprisingly tender. She washed away the grime, the dirt of the forest, the sweat of my fear, with the kind of care one might show to a prize. It was confusing, and it made the hunger in my stomach hurt all the more.

“Can I please get something to eat?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The tenderness vanished in a heartbeat.

The maid’s hand moved like lightning, a brutal, metallic smack that caught me across the side of the face. My head snapped back, the sharp sting of the blow radiating through my skull, and hot tears sprang to my eyes.

“How dare you!” she barked. The shout echoed off the tiled walls, the sound violent enough to ripple the water around me.

She loomed over the tub, her face contorted in a sneer. “Just because I’m washing the filth off you doesn’t make us friends, little wolf.”

She leaned in, her eyes cold as flint. “You have much more to worry about than a meal. You probably won't even make it past tonight after your meeting with the Alpha. Instead of begging for scraps, you’d be wise to start saying your last prayers.”