The Alpha's Punishment

Chapter 5

The Alpha's Punishment

Lyra's POV

Morning came like a sick joke.

Light filtered in around the high windows, golden and warm, but only served to make the emptiness taste more bitter.

All of me hurt — my chest, my head, my eyes. I didn't know if I'd even slept. Maybe I did, but if I did, the dreams were relentless. With each blink, I saw them again — the extended hand of the old woman flying towards my face, the disgust in her eyes, the fact that Ronan didn't even look my way.

I couldn't get smaller than I was.

But I had been wrong.

When I finally sat up, I realized something else had changed.

The room was bare.

The small vase of white flowers was missing.

The extra blanket folded on the chair — gone.

Even the small book that I'd found hidden behind the wardrobe… gone.

Someone had come into my room while I slept and taken everything that made the room even slightly human.

I covered my mouth with my hand, my breath shaking.

This wasn't cleaning. This was erasing.

I was being erased.

I listened to muffled footsteps outside — the beat of servants in a hurry down the corridor. I almost shouted out to one of them, but something stopped me. Because deep inside, I already knew.

They wouldn't talk to me any more.

I crept slowly to the door and leaned against the wood.

Voices wafted down the corridor — low, crisp.

".He defied them in front of the entire house," one of them breathed.

".the grandmother's hand, did you see? He caught it in mid-air—"

".they confined him in the council chamber last night. No one has laid eyes on him since."

My heart plummeted.

They were talking about Ronan.

I drew back from the door, grasping the frame to steady myself.

Confined? Punished? For me?

No. No, it couldn't be.

He was the Alpha. He didn't answer to anyone.

But this was no family. This was the Elder House, the bloodline that had ruled generations before him. Their word was law — even to him.

And because he held back her hand… because he held back her hand from hitting me… he was paying the price now.

The room felt smaller, tighter.

The air pressed down on us like fingers.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to break something.

But what I actually did was just sit down on the floor and hug my knees to my chest.

Tears came back -- quietly at first, then uncontrollably.

Every tear was a betrayal.

I was angry at him for not fighting harder for me.

I was angry at myself for wanting him to.

And most of all, I was angry at the sense that I was poisonous -- that any person I touched somehow paid the price.

I remembered what he had said yesterday, the words I'd fought so hard to forget.

"I kept her around because she could be useful."

Useful.

Not wanted. Not loved. Not even tolerated.

Just useful.

Maybe I was never destined to be any place else.

I pressed my forehead to my knees and breathed quietly. The pain lay heavy in my chest like an immovable stone.

Minutes passed. Or hours. I don't know.

Later, I heard the door creak.

I didn't lift my head. I couldn't afford to see another face that viewed me as dirt.

A soft voice spoke. "Miss Lyra… they told me to bring you food."

It was Mira — the youngest of the maids. Her voice trembled. She sounded scared.

I shifted a little. She was standing by the door, tray in her hand with the bowl of soup and bread on it, but her eyes would not meet mine.

"Mira," I breathed. "What's going on?"

She jumped at my voice.

"I—I shouldn't talk to you, miss."

"Mira, please…"

She paused, looking over her shoulder as though someone was listening.

Then she leaned forward slightly, whispering quickly.

"They instructed the Alpha's to remain in there until the Elders have decided if he's still worthy to reign. They're saying… he's changed. That it's your doing."

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

Her eyes darted back to the hallway. "Don't make me go on."

Then she set the tray down on the table and took off before I could thank her.

The door slammed shut too loudly in the stillness.

I sat for what seemed like hours, staring at the food that had not been eaten.

He was pinned.

Because he had attempted to hinder their path.

Something broke within me.

I crawled to the window and leaned my forehead against the glass. Beyond it, the sun shone over the courtyard. Guards stood in neat lines. Servants flitted by like ghosts, eyes lowered.

Life went on.

As if nothing had happened.

As if I was invisible.

Maybe that was the plan.

I remembered the words of the old man — "She does not belong here."

He was right.

But I couldn't leave, right? I didn't know what lay outside of those gates. I had no one. No home. No pack. Anything.

Though… staying here was better than dying.

My breath was caught. I whispered to myself, "I can't stay here anymore."

The words seemed small but solemn — like a promise I didn't mean to make.

I looked at the window once more. The latch was not secured.

The drop down wasn't big.

If I leapt now, maybe I could flee from the estate before the guards noticed me.

My hand shook while I put my fingers on the window.

As I opened it — a burst of cold air swept in. And with it… a sound.

A growl.

Low. Far. But nonhuman.

My blood ran cold.

I listened, standing. It wasn't from inside the mansion. It was farther away — somewhere in the woods that hugged the eastern wall.

The growl came again, louder than the last. Then a chorus of others.

Wolves.

But not the ones that guarded this estate.

Those were unlike any others — wild, starving.

And then I heard another noise — a horn blowing across the grounds. A signal call.

Shouts followed afterwards. Footsteps. The courtyard exploded with activity.

My heart was pounding so fast I couldn't breathe.

I whirled away from the window and ran to the door, holding my ear against it.

"Get to the gates!" a voice screamed.

"They have crossed the border! The smell— it's her!"

Mine.

The words sliced like a knife.

They were here for me. Whoever they were.

I stepped away from the door, my chest heaving. The room was spinning.

Who were they?

What did they want?

And how did they find me?

I raced back to the window once more, staring through the panes.

In the distance, out on the training grounds, dark figures moved rapidly through the woods. Dark forms. Too many to count.

Guards were falling into line, transforming into wolves, growling and snarling.

And in the midst of the frenzy, I saw one individual.

Ronan.

He'd been released. I could see him in the courtyard, feet bare, shirt half torn, eyes burning with something wild and cold. He was barking out orders, his voice booming.

I could see from where I was standing the marks on his neck — raw and red. The Elders' punishment.

My throat tightened.

He looked up, out of the blue — as if he felt I was looking at him. His gaze caught with mine across the room between us, and for an instant, everything stood still.

The shouting. The horns. The wind. All.

Only his glare.

There was something in it that I had never seen. Not hatred. Not toughness. Something that almost looked like fear.

Then the horn sounded again.

He shouted something to the guards — and gestured toward my window.

I stepped back.

He was coming here.

And behind him, in the distance — the wolves were closing in.

I could see them now. Black fur. Eyes blazing like fire.

They were coming for me.

I had no idea who they were. I had no idea what they wanted.

But deep inside my bones, something within whispered the truth.

They weren't coming to save me.

They were here to bring me.

And this time… even Ronan might not be able to rescue me.