The Prisoner Who Called Me Nina

“Stand up.” My father’s voice cut through the silence of the training hall. I was already on my knees. My palms were bleeding, my chest was burning, and my hands could barely hold the sword anymore. I had been training since sunrise, but apparently, that still wasn’t enough for him. He never cared how much I hurt. He only cared if I could stand. I pushed myself up, my legs shaking beneath me. “Again,” he said. I tightened my grip on the sword. “Father, I can barely—” “Did I ask if you could?” I swallowed the rest of my words. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. There was nothing in his expression to show that he had watched me train for hours. He looked at me the same way he always did, as if he was waiting for me to prove that I was worth the effort he had put into raising me. “Think like an Alpha, Nina.” I raised my sword again. “Your strength is not enough. You need discipline. You need control. One day, every eye in this pack will be on you.” I knew what came next, so I said nothing. “You are my daughter,” he continued. “That means you carry the weight of this kingdom and its packs whether you like it or not.” His words always sounded like a reminder and a warning at the same time. I attacked first. He blocked my strike easily and pushed me back. I tried again, but he knocked the sword from my hand. It landed on the floor with a loud sound. “Too slow.” I bent to pick it up. “Again.” I did as he said. This time, I lasted longer before he disarmed me. When I finally dropped to the floor, I could barely feel my fingers. My body was exhausted, but I knew better than to complain. My father looked at me for a moment before turning away. “You should have been a son.” I froze. He said it so casually that it almost hurt more. “If your brother were alive, I wouldn’t have to waste my time teaching you these things.” My eyes dropped to the floor. My twin brother had died when we were eight, and somehow I had survived the same night that took him. I remembered almost nothing about what happened, only fragments—a scream, the smell of smoke, my mother’s arms around me, and my father’s voice asking where his son was. I had spent the years since then wishing I could remember, because perhaps if I did, I would finally understand why my father looked at me as though surviving had been the greatest mistake I had ever made. “You were supposed to protect him,” he had told me countless times. “Instead, you came back alone.” I had heard those words so many times that they had become part of me. My father walked toward the door. “Clean yourself up. We have prisoners arriving from the north.” I looked up. “Northern prisoners?” He stopped. “Yes.” “Why are they being brought here?” “That is not your concern.” I lowered my eyes. “Yes, Father.” He left without saying anything else. By the time I reached the courtyard, the pack was already gathering near the main entrance. Several guards stood in formation while a group of prisoners was brought through the gates. They were from the northern territory. I had heard stories about them all my life. My father had conquered their lands years ago, and the packs who resisted had either been killed or taken as prisoners. I stayed at the edge of the crowd, watching quietly. Then I felt it. A strange pressure moved beneath my skin. I stopped breathing for a moment. My wolf. It had been quiet for as long as I could remember. I had never shifted, and my father had always considered it another weakness I had inherited. But now, for the first time in years, I felt something from it. Deep inside my chest, something stirred. It lasted only a few seconds before disappearing. I frowned and looked toward the prisoners. One of them had stopped walking. He was injured, with blood running down one side of his face, but he didn’t look afraid. His eyes moved across the courtyard, taking in the guards, the walls, and the people watching him. Then his gaze stopped on me. I looked away first. “Nina.” I turned and saw my father standing behind me. “What are you doing here?” “I came to see the prisoners.” “You were told not to.” “I was only curious.” “You should learn to control your curiosity.” I nodded. His eyes moved toward the prisoners. “You will not speak to them. You will not defend them. They are enemies of this kingdom.” “Yes, Father.” He looked at me for another moment before walking away. I glanced back at the prisoners. The injured man was still looking in my direction,For one strange second, I was certain he had heard the growl inside me. There was something strange about the way he looked at me. Not affection or anger. It was almost as if he was trying to place me somewhere in his memory. One of the guards shoved him forward, and he finally looked away. I told myself it meant nothing. That evening, my father called me to his study. I expected another lecture about my training, but instead, he was standing beside the window with a serious expression on his face. “You are getting married.” I stared at him. “What?” “Your marriage has already been arranged.” “To who?” “Joel.” I knew the name. He was the Alpha’s son from one of the allied packs. I had met him only a few times, but he had always been polite. “Why now?” “Because it is time.” I looked at my father, trying to understand what he was thinking. “Do I have a choice?” His expression hardened. “You are my daughter. There are some decisions you do not make for yourself.” I said nothing. A strange sense of relief still settled inside me. Maybe this was my chance. If I married Joel, I would no longer have to live under my father’s roof. I would not have to train until my body gave out. I would not have to hear about my brother every time I made a mistake. Maybe things would be different with him. marriage could finally give me the freedom I had been waiting for. I held on to that thought for the rest of the night. I thought marrying Joel would save me from my father. I was wrong.