Beneath the Cursed Moon

Fury

TW- Violence

Kestrel paused for a moment, his nostrils flaring as he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity. Bran, noticing this shift, quickly turned to offer explanations, his voice slightly tight.

“My apologies, Alpha Kestrel,” Bran began, his words rushed. “It must be the servant, Lyra. I assure you that steps will be taken to remedy this. I am truly sorry that you had to endure—”

“No need for apologies, Alpha Bran,” Kestrel interjected smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Such things are hardly worth the fuss. Besides, the scent is rather intriguing.” He waved a dismissive hand, signaling that the issue was of no consequence to him. “However, it seems that perhaps this is a good place to pause our discussions. I’ve much to mull over concerning the contracts. Shall we reconvene once I’ve had the chance to review them?”

Bran breathed a quiet sigh of relief, nodding quickly. “Of course. Take the time you need, and we can finalize everything soon.”

Kestrel stood, smoothing the front of his tailored coat. “Until next time then,” he said, offering a gracious nod before exiting the hall with a fluid grace that belied his potent presence.

As the door shut softly behind him, Bran allowed himself a moment to lean back, exhaling deeply. He glanced at Lyra, whose eyes remained downcast but whose inward tension spoke volumes.

“Lyra,” Bran growled, his eyes blazing with a fury that had been simmering beneath his composed exterior for too long. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before looking directly at Lyra. "You know, I've put up with a lot," he began, his voice low but charged with emotion.

Lyra flinched but kept her eyes on the ground. "Alpha, I—"

"No," he cut her off sharply, his voice rising. "I've been patient. I've tried to understand you to see things from your perspective. But time and again, you've shown that you are worthless!"

Lies. Emotion welled up in her, how she wished she could speak her mind for once.

"It's not just the little lies you tell, Lyra. It's the small betrayals, the way you disregard my orders."

Lyra's eyes threatened to drop the tears she was holding back as Bran continued. "I've been holding back, pretending that things would get better when you finally understand, but you never do. I'm done being nice." His voice was a harsh whisper now, laced with a mix of anger and hurt. “Every decision I make, every command I give, it’s for the good of the pack! And you… you’ve undermined everything I’ve built.” Bran grabbed the collar of her shirt, twisting it until it harshly squeezed her throat.

Lyra's hands shot to pull the fabric away from her neck, her eyes darting to his for a brief moment before the intensity of his fury made her look away again. “Alpha, I never meant to—”

“Shut up!” He shouted, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. “You never meant to, but your actions speak louder than your words!" Bran's anger boiled over, and in a moment of reckless fury, he backhanded her.

The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the room, a visceral sound that seemed to resonate with the very air around them. Lyra gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she stumbled back, her hand instinctively rising to her cheek where his blow had landed.

“Do you understand now?” Bran shouted, his voice thick with a mix of hatred and rage. “Do you see what your actions have led to?”

But it didn’t stop there. In his spiraling anger, he struck again, his fists fueled by a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t contain. Each hit felt like a release.

Lyra fell to the ground, pain radiating through her body. Her heart ached as tears streamed down her face. She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes for him to stop. “Alpha, please!” She cried, her voice cracking. “Just give me one more chance.”

Bran shook his head slowly, disappointment etched into every line of his face. “You’ve had your chances, Lyra. And each time, you’ve chosen to disappoint me.” Each strike fueled his belief that he was teaching her a lesson she needed to learn. The room was filled with the echo of his fury.

Finally, Bran paused and stepped back, his breath heavy and ragged. "Starting now, no food, and you will not leave the basement until I say so. You will learn to be grateful for the privilege of being part of this pack."

Lyra's heart pounded in her chest. She felt a surge of anger and resentment, but she knew better than to voice them. She had learned the hard way that defiance was a dangerous game.

Lyra remained on the floor, trembling, as Bran turned and left the room to inform the pack of Lyra's punishment and that no one was to help her, not that anyone would.