Broken Chains (Book Two of The Black Alder Series) COMPLETED

Deflowered

Author's Note

CAUTION: This chapter contains depictions of r**e and violence. This message is for anyone with a trigger — please do not read further if these are potential triggers for you. You may skip this chapter. If you have been sexually assaulted, please reach out to a friend or family member, or call the National s****l Assault Hotline at (800) 656-4673.

Kayla's POV

Liam and I were married, and he took the Alpha position. The ceremony was short. I didn't even bother dressing up — I didn't have anything nice to wear anyway. I had never pictured my life going this route. I always knew I had been sent here for a reason, but I had assumed it was simply so I could serve as another staff member for this pack. Now here I was: wife and Luna to a man and a pack who hated me.

After our wedding, my belongings were moved from the servant's quarters to Liam's room — only for him to have them all burned immediately. He had a shoe closet cleared out for me to sleep in, with a flat mattress on the floor. He had a lock installed on the door, pushed me inside, and told me to get comfortable, as it was where I would spend the rest of my days.

When I started to cry and beg to be sent back to the servant's quarters, he pushed me to the floor and kicked me in the stomach. He hit me wherever he pleased, except the face. He never hit me in the face — he had to preserve my appearance for our allies. I was glad whenever allies visited, if only because I would get to eat actual food rather than have scraps thrown at me in my closet. I held my necklace and tried to find some peace. It helped a little. The pack knew how he treated me, yet they did nothing. They despised having me as their Luna.

He would bring his mistresses into the room and cuff my hands behind my back, forcing me to sit in a chair and watch. The sight always made me sick. Whenever someone angered him, he would come to our room and take it out on me. If I was sleeping, he would kick me awake or burn me. My body was covered in his marks. Every time one healed, he would make another. It had become his favorite hobby.

Once, I became so numb to it all that I stopped crying. That made him furious — he couldn't draw a reaction from me anymore. So he tied my feet together and my hands behind my back and let his mistresses cut into me instead.

The only person who showed me any sympathy was the doctor, Dr. Lauren. She was the one who put me back together each time. I had begged her to let me die, but she told me that as a doctor, her job was to save lives. What she didn't know was that I no longer had enough life left inside me to want to be saved.

None of that was the worst of it, though. The worst came on my eighteenth birthday.

He was drunk when he came into the room. I could smell the alcohol from inside the closet. He had given me cake earlier that day — I had been suspicious, but I knew he wouldn't poison me; his father would kill him for it. I ended up eating it, and for a brief moment I felt something like hope, wondering if things might finally be changing. He even told me I could sleep in his bed, which was unusual, but I was feeling drowsy not long after eating, so when he carried me over, I didn't resist. The room seemed to be spinning.

"Liam," I slurred, trying to tell him something was wrong.

"Shhhh," he said. He began removing my clothes, and I thought he was just putting me to bed. Then he started kissing me, and through the haze I'll admit it felt good — his touch was surprisingly gentle, and a small moan escaped me before I could stop it. But then he pushed his fingers inside me, and I knew I didn't want this.

"Stop," I slurred, trying to push his hands away. He ignored me and continued. It hurt. My energy was completely drained. My stomach ached. I heard the sound of a belt buckle and watched him pull off his shirt. Panic set in — I knew what was about to happen, and I couldn't stop it. He positioned himself on top of me as I tried to cry out, tried to scream for help, but only small, broken sounds came out. Then I felt him force himself inside me.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I didn't want to breathe. He was raping me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

When it was over, he pushed himself off me, picked me up, and tossed me back into the closet, locking the door. I bled onto the floor. When the fog finally lifted, I still couldn't move. I had soiled myself. I was stuck to the floor. When he smelled it, he came in and kicked my bare body as punishment for it. I still didn't move. I closed my eyes. Eventually, I heard him call for the doctor.

Dr. Lauren asked what had happened. He told her we had "celebrated" my birthday. She covered me with a blanket and carried me to the hospital herself, where she examined me and found the blood.

She tried to ask me questions, but I couldn't speak. She cleaned me up and bandaged my wounds. She stayed with me for several days until I finally began to respond — though only with nods. Other nurses tried to take my temperature, but I wouldn't let them touch me. Dr. Lauren was the only one I could tolerate. She had been the one cleaning me up for years, and I didn't trust anyone else.

Dr. Lauren is my only light in the darkness. With her blonde hair and gray eyes, she is the only truly good person in this pack — the only one I can count on. While she cleans my cuts and gives me medication, she sometimes tells me that I remind her of her young daughter, who was killed in a rogue attack shortly after she was born. Her mate took his own life a few months later, and she has been alone ever since. Alpha Derek found her and brought her to the pack — not out of sympathy, but because he needed a doctor. In this pack, if you have no use, you have no place.

Healing from r**e is not an easy thing. I stayed in the hospital for a full week. When I finally returned, I could see people staring. Some were laughing, calling me a slut. I heard someone telling others that I had been drunk and thrown myself at Liam and his friends. My heart couldn't bear it anymore. I went back to my closet and closed the door.

Liam would come and drag me out sometimes, tossing me onto the bed to let me know what was about to happen. I didn't respond. I hadn't spoken since that night. I had simply given up. Even my necklace no longer brought me peace.

He didn't like that. He preferred watching me cry and scream, but I had nothing left to give him. Eventually, he left me alone. There was nothing more he could do to make me hate myself any more than I already did.