Chapter 6— One who breaks trying.
1938 Words
Chapter 6— One who breaks trying.
Kyra
There’s a space between waking and being stuck in a memory where pain doesn't yet exist and breathing feels lighter. I wanted to stay there, in that fragile pocket of nothing, pretending that everything was okay, that all of these were just a damn nightmare but the memory came crashing in like a tide dragging me back to the surface of reality.
One after the other, they filtered in.
James.
The banishment.
Father.
Tristan Banewolff.
The dungeon.
My breath caught. I was shaking again, chest rising and falling too fast, lungs greedy for air that wouldn't come. Cold stone pressed against my cheek, a sting where my cheek lay. My body curled against the cold wall. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Because if I did, I knew the panic would win again.
I didn’t remember when my body gave out, only the closing walls and the suffocating smell of fear curling up my throat.
I stiffened when I heard a sound.
Scraping. Footsteps. Then a door creaked open.
I tensed. A familiar scent hits me quickly—dirt, blood, and sweat. But it wasn't him. It wasn't Tristan. Just guards. The same guards that had brought me here.
Two sets of hands gripped my arms and dragged me to my feet. My legs moved on instinct, and I stumbled forward. My eyes were still closed, and I refused to open them, refusing to let them see how weak this place had me. I wouldn't fall apart in front of them. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing even the smallest crack in my appearance.
My body jolted as the sunlight hit my face. Real sunlight. My throat constricted at the sudden freedom.
Realizing I was finally out of that confined space, I opened my eyes.
We were in a long hallway now, lit with glass-paned windows and swirls of morning dust floating like lazy ghosts. Somewhere ahead, metal clanged against each other, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh herbs went through the air, making my stomach growl with hunger.
I hadn't eaten in… I didn't know how long. How long was I out? Has it been a day already?
The sounds and smells grew stronger with every step, guiding us toward their source.
A kitchen. I was being taken to the kitchen.
But why?
As soon as we stepped inside, chaos welcomed us. Sizzling pans. Barked orders. The warmth of the hearth. For a blink, my heart stuttered. Lydia used to hum in kitchens like this. I’d come in and help her with bread before slipping out to train. It was a routine I'd gotten accustomed to to go unnoticed, and keep suspicion off me.
“A female’s duty is in the kitchen, Alpha. Not the training ground.”
“If you keep letting her do as she pleases, she might forget her place.”
“A female’s role is to tend to the household, and uphold the virtues of modesty and obedience not gallivanting about in pursuit of… whatever it is she thinks she's doing.” Those were the words of Elder James the third I was once again caught in the training room.
I could still remember every single word Elder James and the other cowards disguised as councilmen had spat out. I'd stood there— summoned— in silence as they spoke their disappointment, not a single female Elder raised her voice in my defense. They all nodded like some f*****g puppeteer agreeing to the misogynists we called high councilmen. As if there was nothing wrong with what they said.
Elder Helen had even supported, “You’ll find joy in managing a household and bearing pups for your Alpha. If Matilda was here today she would have said the same.”
I had looked at her that day with so much hate, that I was sure she felt it. The nerve of bringing up my dead mother, trying to taint the perfect image of her I had. And sometimes I hated my father too. I just didn't understand why he'd always oblige to whatever they suggested like he wasn't the Alpha.
“About time. Took long enough," someone snapped, dragging me out of my long trip down memory lane.
The memory shattered. I looked up to the unfamiliar face of a female who was scowling at me, eyes filled with hatred. You'd think I stole her husband and then killed her cat.
I wasn't surprised though, it was kind of the Banewolff signature look whenever they saw me. Even now a few threw me curious glances but it still had a touch of hatred.
She looked at me like I was something stuck to her boot.
“Bring her closer,” she told the guards, eyes never leaving mine. “I need to make sure she's getting everything I say.”
Long, dark hair fell in waves, the sides cut sharply so it angled over one eye. Her posture was stiff, exuding confidence. Command. Who the hell is she?
They obeyed, pushing me forward, hand still bound until I stopped a foot away from her.
She stepped forward, closing whatever space was left, eyes looking me down but I held her gaze. I caught the smirk curling at her lips when her eyes took me in fully lingering on my neck. “How the mighty have fallen huh,” she murmured.
She reached out and hooked a finger under my chin, tilting it up. Her eyes glittered with something… vicious. Kind of like uncontained rage?
“I’ve waited for this moment,” she said. “To see you stripped of your title. To see you kneel, watch you beg for mercy miserably just like I once did.”
Like she once did? I blinked. My brows furrowed slightly. The way she said it felt like she had a personal vendetta against me. And if there was anything I'd learned, it's knowing how to count my enemies. But how could I now, when all of Banewolff seemed to hate me?
“Keep waiting,” I said coolly, “because that day is when the pigs start to fly and the cows come home.”
“So you don't remember then?”
I rolled my eyes, glancing around casually wondering if my so-called mate was somewhere around here but even I knew he wasn't. There was no bond thrum like it would if he were closer. No icy pulse. So why the f**k was I here then?
Her hand flew to my hair, yanking hard.
Her smile widened, cruel and triumphant. “Of course, you don’t remember. Typical Fergusons to always dismiss whatever they feel insignificant.”
I hissed, trying not to flinch at the hard tug she was giving my hair. “If there's something you'd like to say to me then say it and stop being f*****g cryptic it doesn't suit you!” I spat, feeling irritated.
She shoved a wooden bucket toward me. “Start with the soot pots. And if I find a single speck left, you’ll be doing it again. Now, on your knees!”
I didn’t move. Maybe it was my pride, maybe it wasn't but my feet stood rooted to the ground.
“Guys, you know what to do.” That was all I heard before something slammed into me. I didn't even have the time to react before another hit came, this one was sharp and low, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I staggered and was shoved to the ground, heavy blows rained down on me until the world blurred into flashes of pain.
I was pulled up to my feet. I tasted blood pulling in my mouth. The female looked at me in satisfaction before kicking the wooden bucket towards me. “Get to work. Or more would follow when I return.” and then she left.
As I stood on wobbly legs, and an aching body, one of the guards walked up to me and began to uncuff me. “I'd get to work if I were you. Callie does not like to be disrespected.”
•
•
•
I’d lost track of time.
My hands were black with soot, my back ached from bending over firewood, and my palms stung from scrubbing iron pots that looked older than I was. The kitchen had emptied slowly—one wolf at a time—until it was just me with a pile of dirty dishes that seemed to stretch out to the ceiling.
I've learned to know when to back down, and today was one of them. I'd live to fight another day.
The door creaked open. I stood quickly, glancing in the direction.
It wasn't the female– Callie but instead one of the guards.
“Come with me.”
“Alpha's order.” The guard added as if sensing a form of defiance about to break out from me.
Outside, the sun was harsher. We broke out in the courtyard with trimmed hedges. A few pack members milled about, their conversation low as they threw glances that I pretended not to see.
The cheering sound of a crowd indicates that we were where we were meant to be. My eyes caught Tristan's as I walked into the training arena.
The chaos began to dwindle, some wolves had already noticed my presence.
Tristan turned and faced the warriors.
“Like I said, today's session includes a live target with a different rule. You miss, you do laps. You hit…” He glanced at me, eyes glinting with mischief, I noticed the corner of his mouth twitch before he looked away. “No consequences.”
Then he looked directly at me.
“Sit.”
It was one word but it held a lot. Command? Insult? I wasn't sure which one to be offended about. I closed my eyes for a mere minute, biting my tongue before doing as he had ordered.
Sweat rolled down my back. I could feel it soaking into my clothes. My fingers dug into the sides of the chair to keep from trembling.
The first arrow struck the target beside my head with a sharp thwack, close enough that I felt the wind of it kiss my cheek.
I flinched.
Laughter rippled across the field. “Thought she was a badass!”
I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander while I pretended like I wasn't here like one wouldn't try to hit me on purpose just because.
Another arrow whistled past. This one buried itself into the wood between my feet.
Too close.
Too close. But I didn't open my eyes. He wants to punish me, to see me break, he'd said it himself but he would be the one who breaks trying.
A sharp pain pierced my hand and I bit down the urge to yell in pain. Silver. My skin burnt. My eyes stung with unshed tears. I finally opened my eyes to see the stick of an arrow jutting from my arm.
I lifted my head and my eyes locked with Tristan's. He looked at me as if challenging me, wanting me to speak, to flare up.
“Dismissed,” He finally said, not breaking eye contact.
One after the other everyone began to file out. I started to rise when his words halted me.
“Who said you could leave?”
I froze.
“You leave when I say so. And I'm not yet done with you…”
“Alpha…” Someone rushed in panting, chest covered in blood as he fell to the ground.
- Writer
