THE BEATING
929 Words
The night air felt colder than usual, slipping through the cracks in the servant quarters like icy fingers. Aria lay on her side, curled into herself, still in the same position she had collapsed in hours ago. Her body ached, her eyes were dry, and her mind felt like it was drifting somewhere far away, floating above everything that had happened.
A knock came—not a soft one, but a hard, pounding sound that shook her door. Before she could even sit up, it swung open. Two guards stepped in, their faces unreadable, but their hands were already reaching for her. “You’re needed,” one of them said sharply. No explanation, no time.
She didn’t resist or ask questions. Her body moved on its own as they pulled her from the room and into the night. Her bare feet slapped against the stone as they dragged her through the courtyard toward the pack house. Lights glowed from every window, and music drifted in the air—tonight was Kael’s mating celebration.
Voices murmured as they passed; some looked away, others stared. Aria didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Her heartbeat stayed low and steady. She felt nothing. Maybe that was better than feeling everything.
They stopped in front of the great hall where Kael stood in full ceremonial black, his Beta and Gamma by his side. Lilith stood next to him in a glittering gold gown, a fake cut on her shoulder smeared with blood. She was crying—loud, dramatic sobs that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“She tried to attack me,” Lilith wailed. “I went out to get air, and she came from the shadows—like she was going to kill me!” She pointed a shaking finger at Aria. “She’s gone mad!”
Gasps spread through the gathered pack members. The music stopped. Kael’s jaw tightened. His gaze snapped to Aria, hard and sharp. “Is it true?” he asked. “Did you attack my mate?”
Aria blinked slowly and didn’t speak. Her lips wouldn’t move. She hadn’t even left her bed, but it didn’t matter, did it? The answer had already been decided. She could feel it.
“She’s dangerous!” Lilith sobbed, clutching Kael’s arm. “You should’ve banished her when you rejected her. She’s jealous—she wants me dead!”
Aria looked around the room. No one stepped forward or asked if it was true—not even the other omegas, not even the elders. Her cousin had cried, and the world had believed her.
Kael’s voice dropped. “For attempting harm against the future Luna, for disturbing the peace of this pack on the night of sacred union, I sentence you to punishment—publicly. Now.”
The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed her arms and dragged her out into the open yard. Torches were lit around the space. Curious faces gathered—some shocked, others eager. Lilith stood on the balcony, watching like a queen. Kael took his place beside her, silent.
They tied Aria’s hands to the whipping post in the center of the courtyard—the same place used to punish traitors and rogues. Her head hung low. Her nightgown flapped in the wind, thin and worn. The cold bit into her skin, but she made no sound.
A warrior stepped forward with the whip. Not Kael. He wouldn’t dirty his hands. Beta Joren gave a nod.
The first lash struck her back like fire.
She didn’t cry out.
The second landed, then the third. Blood bloomed through the fabric, hot and fast. Still, Aria made no sound. Her body jerked, but she bit her tongue. Her knees shook, but she stayed upright.
By the fifth strike, the crowd was silent. Some watched in horror, some in sick satisfaction. Kael said nothing. Lilith smiled faintly.
Ten lashes.
Twelve.
Fifteen.
On the sixteenth, her knees finally gave out. Her face hit the ground hard, but she didn’t black out. The pain was too loud. The whip was dropped beside her—a signal that it was done.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, bleeding and broken. The guards untied her and left her there. No one helped her up. No one dared. Her body felt too heavy to move. Her back was in flames, and each breath stung like knives in her ribs.
Eventually, she crawled slowly in the dirt. Her knees scraped raw. Her hands trembled. Step by step, inch by inch, she dragged herself back to her quarters under the watchful eyes of the pack. No one stopped her. No one looked away.
When she finally collapsed on the cold floor of her room, the door closed behind her with a soft click. No one came. No one would. She was alone.
Her blood soaked into the mattress. Her teeth chattered as cold wrapped around her like a blanket made of ice. The walls felt smaller than ever. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
She didn’t sleep or speak. She just stared at the ceiling, waiting for something to break inside her that hadn’t already.
By morning, her body wouldn’t move. Her wounds throbbed. She couldn’t sit up, but she didn’t panic. She felt nothing.
And that was the scariest part.
There was no more fear, no more hope, no more fire—just silence.
She wondered if this was what dying felt like—not the stopping of breath, but the erasing of self.
And still, she didn’t cry.
Because even the tears had abandoned her now.
- Writer
