BEARING THE RUTHLESS ALPHA'S HEIR

Starving herself

Time became a blur in the dungeon.

I could not tell if it had been days or weeks since the guards last dragged me in here. The light of the torches came and went, food trays appeared and disappeared, but I touched nothing. My throat cracked with thirst, my lips split, and my stomach coiled in agony, but I forced myself to endure, I clung to the thought that denying him this small victory was the only power I had left.

The mad man's mutters filled the silence, sometimes laughter, sometimes sobs, sometimes whispers I couldn't understand.

I ignored him and only continued to starve myself. If I refused to eat, refused to drink, maybe I could fade before Blair ever returned. That was my rebellion. If I had no strength left, I could not be made into his weapon, his pet, or whatever sick purpose he imagined for me.

Yet even rebellion had limits. My body betrayed me tremors shaking my arms, black dots swimming before my eyes. My mind drifted in and out of shallow dreams, haunted by my mother's face. I would wake with tears wet on my cheeks, heart pounding with dread.

It was during one of those half-dreams that the dungeon door groaned open again.

I thought it was the guards at first. But the footsteps… no, these were different. They were slow but echoing with authority that set my skin crawling.

I raised my head, forcing swollen eyes open. The torchlight caught silver hair, a tall figure wrapped in shadow and presence.

Blair.

He stood framed by the light, broad shoulders cloaked in black, his face shadowed but his eyes cold and merciless. He stepped forward, his presence filling the cell like the weight of a storm.

He said nothing at first but when his gaze swept over me where I sat slumped against the wall, a flicker of something satisfaction, perhaps glimmered in those cold, predatory eyes.

He then reached into his cloak and tossed something to the floor in front of me.

It landed with a heavy, wet sound, the smell hitting me before I even reached for it. Blood.

A scarf.

I reached it with trembling hands. It was a scarf that was familiar, frayed at the edges, stained dark with blood.

It was hers.

My stepsister's scarf. The one she always wore around her shoulders in the evenings, a soft blue now ruined with the blood.

"No…" My voice rasped, raw and thin. "No, please-"

Blair crouched in front of me, his presence overwhelming, his shadow swallowing mine. He tilted his head, watching every crack of despair on my face with an intensity that made me feel naked before him.

"She still breathes, your only living fellow pack member" he said simply, voice even, almost gentle. But there was no mercy in it, only control. "For now." His eyes bore into me. "But her life is tied to yours. You want her to live, you will live. You will eat. You will drink."

I clutched the scarf to my chest, sobs tearing through my throat. "Where is she? What have you done to her? How did you manage to capture her and yet she had ran away?", I had a lot of questions in my head.

After noticing my confusion, his lips curved faintly, a cruel echo of a smile. "Her condition… worsens by the day. I could let her slip into death tonight if I wished. But…" He leaned closer, the tips of his fingers brushing my chin, tilting my face up. His touch was cold and commanding. "If you want her to keep living, you will keep yourself alive as well. Start eating''

The words shattered something inside me.

I had thought I could defy him through starvation, that I could cling to some shard of dignity in refusing. But with one sentence, he bound my life and hers together, twisting my rebellion into a weapon against my mother.

"Starve," he went on when I didn't say anything. "and she dies with you." His words tore me more apart and my vision blurred with more tears.

Slowly , I dragged the tray of food closer. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the bread. I shoved a piece into my mouth, swallowing against the raw ache in my throat. I barely tasted it. It wasn't nourishment, it was submission, forced down with each bite.

I hated him. I hated myself more.

"Please," I whispered, my voice raw with desperation. "Don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you ask. I'll serve ... I'll obey, just let her live."

His expression didn't change. His eyes, hard as obsidian, studied me with disgust and zero interest. "Your behavior will determine her fate." He finally spoke as he watched me swallow the bread.

The words wrapped made my blood boil but he didn't care. He rose to his feet, towering over me once more. His cloak swirled in the dim torchlight as he turned and strode back toward the door, leaving the air colder than before. The iron gate clanged shut behind him, final and merciless.

I stayed motionless long after he left. My stepsister's scarf was still clutched in my trembling hands but the tears were already drying up. How did he capture Laura?

The fear that had hollowed me out was now gone. In its place grew something else , cold and confused at the same time.

Then, slowly, I raised my head then went on with eating the food. I chewed the stale bread in small, slow bites, while completely lost in my thoughts.

If my every move decided my stepsister's fate, then fear could no longer rule me. Fear made me weak, careless.

No. I would obey. I would bend. I would let him believe he owned me but inside, I would remain my own then meet Laura and get all the information I want from her.

Across from me, the madman shifted in the shadows. His fever-bright eyes caught the dim light as he watched me with a strange, knowing smirk.

"You've learned," he rasped.

"Good little lamb. Eat. Live. That's the only way to strike."

I said nothing. My jaw clenched, but I did not meet his gaze.

I already knew my next plan.

I will soon make Blair regret believing my submission was surrender.