Where the broken howl

Chapter fifteen

Elara

It had been nearly a month since I’d last seen him. A month of bruises, whispered threats, and silent corridors where every shadow could mean pain. The day began like every other—gray light leaking through the small window, a chill curling through the corners of the hall. I pressed my back against the wall, careful not to make a sound, counting the bruises on my arms and legs. They throbbed with every heartbeat, reminders that I was still alive, still punished, still trapped.

My Lycan was faint. I could feel her presence beneath my skin, but the voice I had first heard at the cliffs when I met my mate was silent again. That spark, that warmth, had been everything—a tether that had reminded me I wasn’t completely alone. Now, only a distant pulse remained, a subtle heartbeat against the emptiness. It was faint, fragile, but it was enough to remind me that she was still there, still alive.

I moved slowly to the small basin, dipping a rag into the icy water. Every motion sent jolts of pain through my bruised body, but I forced myself to scrub the grime from my skin. It was the smallest act of resistance, a way to preserve myself, to remain human in a pack determined to strip me of it.

Even in the quiet, my mind drifted to the cliffs, to the wind that had carried the faint scent of freedom. And then I saw him—Lucian—in my thoughts, standing tall, unwavering, the pull of his presence strong even from memory. My chest tightened, and I sank to the floor in a half-dream, half-meditation, imagining him beside me, his scent strong, his warmth surrounding me.

I whispered to myself, convincing my own heart: I’m fighting for him. I left him to keep him safe. Everything I endure is for him.

I remembered the forest, the way I had turned away, leaving him in the woods. The memory was sharp, stabbing at my chest. I had been weak, battered, terrified—and I had believed that leaving him was the only way to protect him from the danger I carried with me. From my ruined strength. From my broken state.

It’s for him, I murmured, pressing my palms to the cold stone floor. If I stay, he’ll die because of me. I can’t let that happen. I have to survive… for him.

The rational part of me clung to that truth, but my heart twisted in guilt. I had felt his presence, the sparks of our bond, the pull of the mate connection when our hands had brushed. And now I was alone again. Alone with the pain, alone with the faint pulse of my Lycan beneath my skin, and alone with the fear that I might never hear her voice again.

The hallways were quiet, but the stillness was deceptive. A creak in the floor made my heart jump. I pressed myself tighter against the wall, holding my breath, willing the intruder to pass without noticing me. A servant carried dishes down the hall, oblivious, and I let the distraction calm my pulse for a moment. Every step I took, every rag I moved, was a careful negotiation with danger, a dance I had mastered in the silence.

I hid the rag I had used under a floorboard where no one would see it. Small acts of defiance like this reminded me I still had control over something, even if only for a moment. Even if my body was bruised, even if my father and Maren sought to crush me, these tiny rebellions were mine.

I sank back against the wall and let my mind drift again, imagining Lucian. I saw his eyes, steady and unyielding, scanning the horizon, preparing, hunting. The thought of him out there, unaware of my suffering, twisted my gut. But it also strengthened me. I had left him to protect him, yes, but that didn’t mean I would give up on myself while waiting for him. I had to endure. I had to survive.

The faint pulse beneath my skin stirred, responding to my whispered words, and I felt a flicker of warmth, like a heartbeat brushing against the edges of my mind. It was weak, but it reminded me that my Lycan was still tethered to me, still aware, still alive. That spark was enough to carry me through the day.

I imagined the cliffs again, the wind tangling through my hair, the openness of the sky. And I whispered to that memory, to the space where my Lycan could reach me: I will survive… for you. I will endure, no matter what.

Hours passed in a haze of chores, careful evasion, and quiet observation. Maren could appear at any moment, but he didn’t. Still, I moved cautiously, planning ways to stay alive, small strategies to avoid being beaten, humiliated, or worse. Each moment of survival felt like a victory, each breath a defiance.

I rested against the wall once more, feeling the faint pulse of my Lycan beneath my skin. Even silent, she reminded me I wasn’t completely alone. Even silent, she reminded me that there was still hope.

I whispered again, soft, almost a prayer: “Stay with me… just a little longer.”

I let myself imagine Lucian one last time before sleep claimed me, the cliffs, his presence, the faint promise of safety and strength he carried. And somewhere deep inside, my Lycan stirred in response, faint, but enough to remind me: I was not alone. I was not defeated.

Even in the weight of fear, abuse, and isolation, I clung to that hope. It was all I had, and somehow, I would make it last.