HER REDEMPTION

Chapter 6

THE DEVIL'S HAND

Crimson Stone Pack

Her POV

He came to a stop before a door that had once filled me with dread—an unrelenting force of discipline and torment. Yet, over time, I had come to a wary truce with it, understanding the values and principles it sought to instill in those who crossed its threshold. It was not mercy that I had found within these walls, but rather a mutual recognition between captor and captive. And I was merely another body within its grasp.

With a forceful push, he swung the door open and shoved me inside. The impact sent a jolt through my bones, reminding my body of the pain it was already in, and though I gasped, no sound followed. There never was.

Lifting my head, I caught sight of his eyes—glossy, unfocused. A telltale sign. He was mind-linking.

His jaw clenched, his expression darkening as he finished his silent conversation. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on the worn wooden table against the wall. With measured steps, he crossed the space and reached for something resting atop it.

Thick, black leather gloves.

A warning.

My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression void of reaction. My silence was my armor, the only thing truly mine in this room.

As if summoned by my dread, the Gamma twins entered. I hadn't heard them coming, but then again, I rarely heard anything beyond the rushing in my ears when I was here.

The platinum-haired twin moved toward me, while the honey-blonde twin made his way to the shelf. I watched him skim his fingers over the objects lined there, searching.

"Mark, put her up. Marcus, grab the box," the Beta commanded, his tone sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

Mark’s hands closed around my arm, his grip firm but emotionless as he pulled me toward the thick iron pole standing at the center of the room. My breath hitched when he reached for the silver chains embedded into the ceiling, his face betraying nothing even as the metal seared his skin. No wince, no flinch—just silent endurance.

I tried to follow his example. As he wrapped the scorching chains around my wrists, securing them tightly, I fought the instinct to cry out. The silver bit into my flesh, sending waves of blistering pain up my arms, but I refused to show weakness. Not here. Not now. Instead, I masked my agony with an expression as cold and indifferent as his, despite the fiery torment licking at my skin.

Hanging by my wrists, my toes barely brushed the floor, but I made no attempt to ease the strain on my arms. Struggling would only sap my remaining energy, and I couldn't afford that—not when I knew what was coming. So I stilled, letting my body go slack as I retreated into my mind, repeating my favorite chant over and over again.

I had braced myself for the routine pain, the familiar agony. But something changed when Marcus hesitated.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was unsteady, laced with something foreign—concern.

My eyes snapped open.

Concern? At this point in the exercise? That was new. And deeply unsettling.

My heart plummeted, crashing into the pit of my stomach, while fear clawed its way up my throat.

I was wrong. This night wouldn't be like the others. It would be worse.

I fought to blink back the rising heat in my eyes. It was far too early in the night to spill a tear.

"He's right," Mark added, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Using the Devil’s Hand on her again might really break her this time. Are you sure?"

"You don’t get to ask me that," the Beta growled, jabbing a rigid finger into Mark’s chest.

A tense silence filled the room before both twins dipped their heads. "We're sorry, Beta," they murmured in unison, submitting without further protest.

I barely noticed them after that. My attention was locked on the box Marcus placed on the table. Dread coiled around my ribs like a vice, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. My stomach churned violently, my last shred of hope evaporating into nothing.

The Beta’s fingers grazed the box’s lid before lifting it, revealing the object I had prayed never to see again.

The Devil’s Hand.

A whip forged from silver dust and dipped in wolfsbane—two of the most agonizing substances known to our kind. But that wasn’t what made it truly terrifying. No, what made it monstrous was the binding and blood spell woven into its fibers by the witches of the Supernatural Council. It was designed to break any wolf, to shatter them from the inside out. Only a true Alpha—one who had undergone full initiation and bore the council’s blessing—could withstand its wrath.

And I was no Alpha.

A sharp whistle cut through the air before a line of fire seared across my back.

"Hnnngh—" A strangled groan tore from my throat as the Devil’s Hand kissed my skin, branding me with agony beyond comprehension. I bit down on my tongue, tasting blood, desperate to swallow the scream clawing its way up my throat. My eyes squeezed shut, but it did nothing to block out the torment as the whip’s venom worked its way through me, spreading molten pain from the fresh wound on my back to every nerve in my body.

Then it reached my chest.

The sensation was unbearable—like invisible claws digging into my heart, squeezing the life from it with cruel precision. My lungs locked up, refusing to draw in air. My muscles spasmed violently against the chains, and my body convulsed as I fought against the suffocating grip of the spell.

"Aaaargh—"

This time, I couldn't hold it in. A ragged, broken scream ripped from my lips as I writhed in the silver’s merciless embrace. My wrists burned, my back ached, and my lazy voice cracked under the strain, and raw and bruised from the sheer force of my suffering.

But through the haze of pain, one image remained clear—his expressionless face.

The Beta stood still, whip poised in his hand, watching me. Studying me. Like he was reacquainting himself with the effects of his weapon, as if he needed to see the damage for himself.

And somehow, that was worse.

The torment faded into numbness, cold and distant, like I had drifted beyond the reach of my own body. Relief swept over me for just a moment, tricking me into believing it was over. But experience had taught me better.

The pain never left for long.

It always came back.

And I had no doubt—it would be back soon.