Chapter 14: Don’t Feel Like A Trophy That’s To Be Won
Iris’s POV
Before I could regain my senses, his hand gripped my wrist with a force that sent a jolt of pain shooting up my arm as he began to drag me, my legs scrabbling against the ground in a desperate attempt to keep up with his relentless pace as he continued to drag me outside. My legs slipped on the uneven dirt path, kicking up small clouds of dust that stung my eyes. My heart hammered in my chest as I wondered why Lyra was quiet, even the brave voice of Lyra, my inner wolf, who had been a constant presence in my mind until now. I didn’t understand why Lyra went quiet all of a sudden. It was as if she, too, was stunned into submission, or perhaps I felt guilty of my actions, making me not react.
I hadn’t just punished Maris by destroying the sacred generational plates, those ancient relics that held the pack’s history, their pride and their very identity. I had punished everyone as a result of that. The weight of that realization pressed down on me. I couldn’t defend myself as he dragged me along, my body limp, my mind a tangled mess of fear. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was the paralyzing memory of all the times Zane had humiliated me before but I still feel a soft spot for him.
I could suddenly hear the clang of metal and the grunts of effort from the training fields in front of us. My stomach twisted as I realized where he was taking me, it was the servants’ quarters, specifically the open field where the pack’s lower ranks, male and female, trained under the watchful eyes of their superiors. It was a place of discipline, of order, and I was about to be its spectacle.
Zane’s grip tightened even more as we reached the field, and with a sudden, brutal shove, he sent me sprawling to the ground.
My knees scratched the hard ground first, then my hands, and my face scraped against the ground, a sharp pain, blooming along my cheek. I winced, the pain immediate and searing, and tears welled up unbidden, spilling down my face before I could stop them. My fingers flew to my cheek, brushing against the bruised skin, and I quickly wiped at the tears, hoping no one noticed. But they had. The servants, who had been sparring in neat rows, paused mid-motion, their eyes turning to me. I was in the center of their attention now, a fallen, pathetic person in the middle of their training ground.
I struggled to steady myself, my hands fumbling to cover the sides of my thighs where my dress had ridden up, exposing my skin to their prying eyes. My head hung low, my hair falling in a curtain around my face, shielding me from their stares but that didn’t do anything to ease the disgrace.
Suddenly, Zane’s voice sliced through the silence. Sharp and commanding.
"Everyone!" he bellowed, his tone carrying the authority of an Alpha’s son, undeniable and absolute. The servants snapped to attention as they focused on me. "Iris have something to say."