From Hidden Scars to Lycan Queen

Kara POV:

The carriage had barely lurched forward before Aden's patience completely snapped. I kept my eyes closed, hoarding what little strength I had. Every breath was a conscious effort to prepare for the fight ahead.

Suddenly, the carriage door flew open. Before I could even turn my head, Aden's polished boot shot out from inside the cabin, striking me brutally in the side.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. The world tilted as I tumbled from the high driver's bench, landing hard in the freezing slush of snow and mud.

Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded in my twisted ankle, radiating up through my already ruined leg. It was worse than any whipping, any fall in the mines. Black spots danced in my vision.

Aden's face appeared in the doorway above me, his expression a mask of furious indignation. "You think you can embarrass me? A member of the Powers family, degrading yourself to sit with the servants!"

I lay there, gasping for air, clutching my throbbing ankle. My silence only seemed to enrage him further.

"Stop playing the victim with that cold attitude!" he roared, his voice cutting through the icy wind. "You stole Corie's place! You enjoyed sixteen years of luxury and wealth that belonged to her! These three years of suffering are exactly what you deserve! You have no right to look so wronged, you ungrateful wretch!"

The mention of her name sent a flicker of something, a dark and bitter amusement, through the ice in my veins.

He sneered down at my broken form shivering in the mud. "Since you want to act like a slave and need to reflect on your status, you can walk back to Greyrock Keep yourself. And wipe that miserable look off your face before you upset the elders."

Aden's face twisted with absolute fury. He climbed into the carriage alone, slamming the door so hard the entire frame shook. "When we get back to Greyrock Keep," his voice carried through the thin wood, muffled but dripping with venom, "you will keep your mouth shut. Not a word of what happened here. Especially not to Corie."

He dropped the curtain violently. "Drive!" he barked at the terrified coachman.

The carriage pulled away, its wheels spraying a final, insulting wave of muddy ice over me.

I lay there, shaking. Not from the cold. From a rage so profound it felt like it could burn the snow around me.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Tears were for the weak. My tears had dried up long ago.

I tried to push myself up. My arms trembled, but it was my leg that failed me. It wouldn't take any weight. I collapsed back into the snow with a choked gasp.

The sun was setting. The wind was picking up, carrying flurries of fresh snow. I was alone. I could freeze to death out here.

Despair was a cold hand squeezing my heart. But a fiercer, hotter emotion pushed it back. Survival. I would not die here. Not before they paid.

I began to crawl. Dragging my useless leg through the snow, every inch a new wave of agony.

Then I heard it. Hoofbeats. Another carriage.

I froze, every muscle tensed. It was even more luxurious than Aden's. The crest on its door was a circling hawk. House Klein.

Derrick Klein.

The name was a needle sliding into my heart. My former fiancé. The man who had stood by and said nothing as I was condemned.

The carriage stopped beside me. The door opened.

He stepped out, a tall figure in a black cashmere coat. His deep blue eyes, framed by the falling snow, were as unreadable as ever.

His gaze fell on me, struggling in the mud. It lingered for a moment, his face a blank canvas.

I immediately looked down, trying to hide. I didn't want him, of all people, to see me like this. So pathetic. So broken.

His voice, low and steady, cut through the wind.

"Get in the carriage."

My body locked up. The same tone. The same command. The same casual arrogance.

I lifted my head, my eyes meeting his. I let him see the defiance there. The hatred.