My Mate Put Me in Chains

The Winter Solstice Gala was a suffocating sea of velvet, diamonds, and false smiles. The ballroom air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meats, but beneath it all, I smelled the rot of my own life. I stood by the punch bowl, the silver dress Hunter had forced me into clinging to my skin like a second layer of ice. Every whisper from the pack members felt like a lash. *Look at her. The broken Luna. The thief.*

I couldn't breathe. The ghost of Muffin’s blood still stained the back of my eyelids every time I blinked. I needed air. I needed to be anywhere but here.

I slipped away from the crowd, ducking into the opulent changing rooms adjacent to the grand balcony. The room was quiet, filled with racks of fur coats and spare gowns. I leaned against a vanity, gripping the cold marble edge until my knuckles turned white.

'He is watching,' Mist growled in my head, her presence a restless storm. 'The Alpha never stops watching.'

“Enjoying the party, Liliana?”

The voice slithered over my shoulder. I spun around to find Amaya standing in the doorway. She wore gold, a deliberate contrast to my silver, rubbing her swollen belly with a possessive smirk. She didn't look like a guest; she looked like the owner of the house.

“Get out,” I rasped, stepping back.

Amaya laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. She closed the distance between us, her eyes dancing with malice. “You look terrible. That dress does nothing for your... fragility. Did you clean up the mess on your bed? Or did you make the Omegas do it?”

Rage, hot and blinding, flared in my chest. It wasn't the slow burn of resentment; it was an explosion.

“You killed him,” I hissed. “You walked into my room and slaughtered a defenseless animal.”

“And I’ll do the same to anything else you love,” Amaya whispered, leaning in close. “Because you are weak, Liliana. You are a placeholder. And placeholders are meant to be discarded.”

She reached out and slapped me. It wasn't a hard blow, but the disrespect of it—the sheer audacity—snapped the last thread of my control.

'Hit her!' Mist roared.

I didn't think. I didn't calculate. I lunged.

My hands tangled in the expensive fabric of her gold dress, and I shoved her backward with every ounce of strength my human body possessed. Amaya’s eyes went wide with shock as she stumbled, crashing hard into a heavy rack of winter coats. The metal frame groaned and tipped, sending furs cascading over her.

For a second, there was silence. Then, Amaya’s face twisted. She wasn't hurt—she was a wolf, she was durable—but she was humiliated. And then, I saw the calculation flicker in her eyes.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“Help! She’s trying to kill the baby! Help me!”

My blood ran cold. “What are you—”

Amaya scrambled up, grabbing my wrist with a grip like iron. She wasn't fleeing; she was dragging me. She pulled me toward the open glass doors of the balcony, her screams piercing the night air.

“Let go!” I shrieked, clawing at her hand, but she was stronger. She was a rogue who had survived in the wild; I was a sheltered girl who had been mentally sedated for three years.

She slammed me against the stone railing. The wind whipped my hair across my face, blinding me. Below, the garden was a dark abyss, two stories down.

“You wanted to be free, didn’t you?” Amaya hissed, her face inches from mine. The madness in her eyes was terrifying. “Fly, little bird.”

She didn't just let go. She shoved me. Hard.

My center of gravity tipped. My hands scrambled for purchase on the wet stone, but there was nothing to hold. The world tilted, and then the balcony was gone.

The fall was silent, but the impact was a thunderclap.

I crashed through the decorative hedges, branches tearing at my skin, before slamming into the frozen earth. A sickening *crack* echoed through my body. Pain, white and blinding, exploded in my left leg and radiated up my ribcage. I tried to scream, but my lungs were empty, crushed by the blow.

I lay there, gasping, tasting copper. Above me, the balcony was a silhouette against the moonlight. Faces began to appear at the railing—horrified, gasping faces.

“Liliana!”

Hunter’s voice boomed from above. Not a minute later, the garden doors burst open. He came running toward me, his tuxedo stark against the dark shrubbery. A crowd of guests followed, keeping a respectful distance.

“Help me,” I wheezed, trying to lift my head. “She... she pushed...”

Hunter dropped to his knees beside me. He didn't look at my shattered leg. He didn't check my vitals. He looked into my eyes, and I saw no love, no panic. I saw a script being written in real-time.

He turned to the crowd, his face a mask of devastated sorrow.

“She tried to jump,” he announced, his voice trembling with practiced grief. “My poor, sweet Liliana. The madness... it drove her to try and end it all.”

“No,” I choked out, grabbing his lapel. “Amaya... pushed me...”

Hunter leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. To the pack, it looked like a lover’s comfort.

“**Silence,**” he commanded, the Alpha tone vibrating through my broken bones, paralyzing my tongue. “You are unwell, Lily. You are a danger to yourself.”

He scooped me up into his arms. The movement caused my broken ribs to grind together, and I blacked out for a second, a whimper escaping my throat.

“Make way!” Hunter shouted to the guests. “I must get her to safety!”

“The infirmary is that way, Alpha!” someone called out—Edith, the healer.

“No,” Hunter said, his stride long and purposeful, heading toward the main house, but not toward the medical wing. He was heading for the heavy oak door that led to the basement. “She needs containment. She is violent. I cannot risk her hurting herself again.”

'He is burying us,' Mist howled, her voice sounding far away through the haze of pain.

I watched the chandeliers of the hallway pass overhead, blurring into streaks of light. We went past the kitchen, past the servants' quarters, and down the stone steps. The air grew colder. The scent of damp earth and silver filled my nose.

Hunter kicked open the heavy iron door of the dungeon. He walked into the cell where Amaya had once stayed—the cell he had kept prepared.

He dumped me onto the thin, filthy mattress. I screamed as my broken leg hit the hard surface.

“Rest now, Liliana,” Hunter said, standing tall and adjusting his cuffs, looking down at me like I was a broken toy he was finally tired of playing with. “You’ll be safe here. No one can hear your lies down here.”

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked. And for the first time in my life, the darkness was absolute.