Their Broken Luna

Chapter 3:Revenge

Elara's POV

My legs were so weak I could barely stand. The two silent guards held me under the arms, dragging me out of the auction hall soaked in lust and hunger.

A staff member in a high-end tailcoat hurried over, smiling nervously at the guards. “Sorry—before the formal handover, we’ll need the buyer to sign the final confirmation papers.”

Just like that, I was hauled back to the backstage area of the auction house to wait for my new owner to claim me.

To keep me from escaping, the guards pinned my entire body against the wall. They forced my legs apart, stretched my arms out to the sides, and clamped heavy iron rings onto my wrists and ankles. I felt like a specimen nailed to a board: unmoving, trapped, unable to flee.

At least the guards left once they made sure I was restrained. At least here, I was alone—no longer suffocated by hundreds of eyes that felt like r**e.

In sharp contrast to the glittering splendor of the auction hall, the backstage area was dim and filthy. Against the wall stood a row of rusted iron cages, all different sizes—the same cages I’d been locked in before. They were empty now, though some still held dried dark stains and tufts of fur from creatures I didn’t want to imagine. They stood silently like the lairs of some lurking monster.

In the corner was a crude washbasin, its surface yellowed, the faucet too old to close completely. Water dripped slowly and steadily—tick… tick… tick…—echoing through the silence like a mourning song for the fate waiting to swallow me.

My mind couldn’t stop replaying the words: “She is my mate.”

How could that be possible?

That monster who tortured his “pets” for fun—how could he claim me as his mate? God… you must be joking. Or maybe this was the start of something even crueler, a game designed to shatter my last sliver of sanity.

My thoughts ran wild, like wolves with hunters on their trail, conjuring one horrible image after another: dark dungeons, cold chains, the c***k of a whip, the masked silhouette advancing toward me…

I tried to curl into myself, to wrap my arms around my body, but pinned to the wall, I couldn’t move. A cold chill spread through me, and before I realized it, tears were slipping down my cheeks.

And then the heavy oak door creaked open, and a familiar figure entered.

“Oh, my little Elara, I knew you’d be here!” Boris grinned, showing his yellowed teeth. “Look at you. Finally f*****g useful. Sold for a damn good price—enough for me to have a real nice time.” He shook the thick stack of cash in his hand, the bills rustling.

“You bastard. You make me sick,” I rasped.

He sneered, stuffing the money into his filthy coat, pretending to look offended. “Don’t talk to your father like that. It’s our last moment together, isn’t it?” As he spoke, his greasy gaze slid over my naked body and finally settled on my breasts. He swallowed greedily. "I gotta say, you've got nice t**s, hehe." Boris chuckled, gesturing wildly as he moved closer. "Let the old man have one last taste; consider it your farewell gift to me!"

“Don’t touch me!” I snarled. Fear and nausea surged up my throat. One last taste before letting me go. I thrashed wildly, the iron rings and chains clanging as my arms jerked helplessly. Months of malnutrition had already drained most of my strength. After the earlier electric shocks from the inhibitor, my struggling was useless against him. If anything, my desperate writhing only seemed to excite him more.

"Save your energy, f*****g little wolf." He closed the last inch between us, his full weight pressing me down. His exhale was a suffocating wave of stench. "No one's saving you." With those words, his calloused hand viciously grabbed my breast.

“Ah!” Pain tore through me as he yanked on me.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Boris chuckled, shoving his hand into my mouth. His fingers pushed past my teeth, rubbing and twisting against my tongue. “Come on, taste Daddy.”

The salty, rotten stench of him filled my mouth. I gagged. His other hand wasn't idle either; he skillfully unbuckled his belt and freed his p***s.

Tears streamed down my face—not from fear anymore, but from the deepest hatred. I gathered every bit of strength left in my body and bit down.

Crack. c***k.

I heard bones snap.

“s**t! Let go!” Boris shrieked, stumbling backward. He tried to yank his hand free, but I bit so hard the pulling only added a new layer of tearing agony. Realizing this, he grabbed my jaw with his right hand and tried to force it open.

No. I would not let go.

Seventeen years of humiliation and suffering erupted inside my chest, and I bit harder.

Blood and saliva dripped down my chin, over my collarbone and breasts, smearing into patterns of vibrant crimson blossoms on my naked skin.

Another knuckle snapped.

“Son of a b***h!” Boris howled.

Didn’t he want me to taste him? Then I’d damn well taste him. I shifted my bite, trying to chew the severed knuckle.

Sweat gathered on his forehead. He drew back his right fist and hammered it into my stomach while shouting, “Let go! You crazy b***h! You filthy slut!”

His punches landed heavy and hollow against my abdomen.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

I didn’t know how many blows I took before my vision blurred and the pain overwhelmed me. I finally loosened my jaw.

Boris yanked his mangled left hand back and lifted it to inspect the damage.

I caught a glimpse—and I felt satisfaction through the haze of pain. What he held could no longer be called a hand. It was a shredded mass of bloody flesh.

“Enjoy the parting gift?” I spat out, each word broken and wet. Blood sprayed from my lips. My head fell forward—this fight had drained the last of my strength.

Blood mixed with saliva dripped from my mouth.

Drip.

Drip.

“f**k you…” Boris snarled. His rage twisted his face as he snatched a metal rod from the floor and charged at me.

His eyes were bloodshot, features contorted with lunacy. I knew I had pushed him past the point of control. Fear flickered through me, but no regret. If I died for this, Leo would tell me I did well when I saw him again.

I closed my eyes and prepared to accept my fate.

Bang!

The heavy oak door exploded inward as if hit by a cannon, splinters flying in every direction.

I jerked violently in shock, snapping my head up.

Kael Blackwood stood in the doorway, backlit, like something summoned from hell. He didn’t even look at me. His golden eyes, blazing behind the mask, locked instantly onto Boris.

Boris froze mid-swing. Rage drained from his face, replaced by raw terror. “M-my Lord… I…” he stammered. The rod fell from his hand with a metallic clatter.

Kael moved.

He was so fast my eyes couldn’t track him—like a streak of black lightning. No roar, no theatrics. Just one swift, brutal, impossibly strong side kick that sank into Boris’s swollen gut.

“Ugh—AH!”

Boris’s scream was short and sharp. His nearly two-hundred-pound body flew through the air like a rag doll, slammed into the wall several meters away, then slid to the floor in a limp heap.

I stared blankly. My mind couldn’t process what I’d just seen. Savage. Horrifyingly savage.

So this was Alpha strength.

This was the true face of the man who now owned me.

Pure terror locked around my heart, a crushing weight that stole the air from my lungs.

“He… is he dead?” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice.

Kael walked to Boris, slipped a foot beneath his body, and nudged upward, flipping him onto his back.

“Get up. Stop pretending,” Kael said, disgust dripping from his voice.

“S-sorry… my Lord…” Boris gasped, barely forming words.

“Sorry?”

Kael let out a short, cold laugh, amused by the absurdity. He pressed the polished sole of his shoe onto Boris’s face and twisted cruelly. “You don’t even know who you owe the apology to, yet you dare ask for forgiveness?”

Boris clung to Kael’s ankle, trying to push him away. It was useless—he was nearly unconscious.

Kael’s gaze flicked to Boris’s blood-smeared hands pawing at his pant leg. Kael frowned—he was disgusted by his filth.

“Guards!” Kael called.

The two werewolf guards who’d escorted me earlier rushed in and bowed. “Alpha Kael.”

“Bring this disgusting pig to her,” Kael said, lifting his foot away. “Make him apologize properly. After that, do whatever you want with him.”

He paused, glanced at me again—a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Get her down. She won’t run. And get her something to wear.”

With that, he walked out.

“Yes, Alpha,” the guards replied.

Once Kael was gone, the guards hauled the bloody, stinking Boris in front of me. A wave of stench hit me—blood mixed with feces. His pants were soaked red and yellow.

Damn. Kael had literally kicked the s**t out of him.

My stomach churned, but after so long without food, I could only retch dryly. The guards, alarmed, rushed to unlock the iron rings and lower me from the wall.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the constant terror, or the nonstop parade of horrors today—but the moment they set me down, the world tilted.

I blacked out completely.