Page 18 of The Cursed Wolf King

That control stopped at my front door.

Inside was bare. An empty shell of a place, like a dollhouse someone had forgotten to finish.

But it was mine.

The walls were plain, the wood chipped in places. One tiny cot was wedged against the far wall, its mattress so thin I could feel the slats underneath when I tried to sleep. My blankets were worn and frayed, more threads than fabric at this point, though I’d sewn them up so many times it felt like I’d made the things from scratch.

There was a single wooden chair by a small table, its surface scuffed and stained from whoever used it before me. A book rested on the table, a thick volume detailing Incan history. Kenza would bring a book for me whenever she could get her hands on one and I devoured them. Anything to pass the hours between ceremonial appearances. Next to it, a cracked pitcher sat on a shelf with a chipped porcelain cup. A kitchen set-up was in the corner, and a toilet open to the rest of the room—four walls and barely enough space to breathe. I’d been here long enough to get used to it, but sometimes, especially after coming back from the grand halls of the alpha’s mansion, it struck me how hollow it all was.

Any sense of warmth or comfort was something I’d had to make for myself—a small stash of wild herbs I’d dried and hung in the corner, a scarf I’d once found and kept hidden so I’d have something soft to hang. There were no photographs, no trinkets, nothing that made this cabin feel like it belonged to me. Grayson had seen to that. I wasn’t allowed visitors, and no one from the pack dared approach anyway.

Today I was grateful for it.

I eased the fabric of my dress over my shoulders, wincing as it slipped past the tender, raw skin. I guided my braid over to rest against my chest, feeling the familiar weight as it settled against me, a small comfort as the pain hummed in my brain. I looked over my shoulder into the cracked mirror, the jagged line across the glass splitting my reflection.

Thank the Shadow Moon Goddess no one can see this.

Though that had been Damian’s intention all along.

The wounds streaked across my back in sharp, angry welts, still fresh, the skin raised and livid red. Dark bruises were already beginning to bloom around them, each one a sign of Damian’s cruelty etched onto my body. In the reflection, it was almost as if I were looking at someone else—some other girl who wore this silent suffering on her skin, a stranger trapped in her own life. I traced each line with my eyes, each welt, feeling a strange numbness settle over me as I took it in, as if by distancing myself from the pain, I could make it easier to bear.

Damian had gone looking for me and couldn’t find me and… well, this was the result..

My wolf whined, unable to do a thing to help.

I reached for the small tin I’d stashed in a hollow beneath the floorboards, pulling out a handful of bandages and a small jar of salve I’d stolen from the alpha’s supplies. It was meant for minor cuts and bruises, but it would have to do. Carefully, I dipped my fingers into the salve, a cool, herbal smell rising up to meet me. My hand trembled as I applied it as well as I could to the edges of each lash, a sting of pain flashing throughme at every touch.

It was the first time Damian had ever gone this far, the first time his violence left such a visible mark. The shoving, the pierced skin to make me bleed, the yanking on my braid behind closed doors was one thing.

Whipping me in the basement of his annex was entirely another.

The worst part wasn’t the pain. It was what it meant.

This is only the beginning.

I pulled on a fresh dress, careful to let the fabric slide gently over my shoulders and down my back, wincing as it brushed against the welts. I forced myself to stand tall, arranging the neckline and sleeves just right to hide the worst of it. I glanced in the cracked mirror again, making sure not a mark showed. The last thing I needed was anyone noticing, anyone prying. Who knew what they would do if they saw my weakness? Already they’d smell the blood on me, but everyone was smarter than to make comment on the alpha’s oracle.

I added more salve to cover the smell.

The few times I’d tried to open up, it hadn’t gone well. The last time I dared was years ago, when I caught Sable watching me with a measured glance I misinterpreted as sympathy. Once I started talking to her, opening up in the smallest of ways about my living conditions, her mood had hardened instantly. Her face changed from what I’d thought was understanding to an expression that was icy and unreadable.

“You’d better remember who you are,” she’d said, her tone clipped, cutting me off before I could say more. “Talking ill of the alpha and his son is a reckless move,oracle. You never truly know who you’re talking to. And I won’t let you drag me into it.”

Her words had stung more than the wounds I tried to hide. Since then, I’d learned to keep my anguish to myself, locked away where no one else could twist it into another weapon.

With a pained sigh, I made one final adjustment to my dress and grabbed a small satchel, though my mind was already drifting to that wolf from the forest. If I could find him again, make him understand what I needed—what Ideserved—then maybe I’d have a fighting chance.

I opened the door and slipped out, hugging the shadows along the edge of the compound. A little farther, and I could make it to the woods without being seen.

But as soon as I stepped into the light, a familiar face came into view and blocked my path.

“Why the long face, friend?” Kenza said it cheerfully, as was her way. She stepped forward and draped her arm across my shoulders like she’d done a thousand times before.

Pain shot through me like lightning, but I bit down hard, swallowing the gasp that nearly slipped free. I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Oh, you know,” I said lightly, trying to sound as casual as possible, “just thinking.”

Kenza’s brow furrowed. “Since when does thinking make you look like a kicked pup?” She leaned closer. “Come on, out with it. What happened? Damian name-calling again?”

Her hand pressed into the welts and bruises I’d so carefully hidden. Every instinct told me to pull away, but Icouldn’t risk her seeing how bad it was. “Nothing, really,” I said, shifting my shoulder as subtly as I could. “A rough night, that’s all.”

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