Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Royal General

Serena POV

The dungeon was a cold, damp grave. The smell of wet earth and old blood turned my stomach.

The heavy iron door swung open. Silas marched in. Elara followed close behind him, clutching a dark cloth bag.

Silas did not utter a word. He grabbed me by the hair and struck me across the face, the force of it sending a shower of black spots across my vision.

"Who is the Rogue?" Silas demanded, his breath a foul gust of hatred.

I spat a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor. I refused to speak.

Elara handed Silas a metal tool from the bag. It was a torturer's scourge, its head covered in small, sharp spikes. The metal was a dull, malevolent gray.

It was Silver.

In our werewolf society, Silver is the ultimate bane. It is the only substance that can burn our flesh and arrest our healing.

Silas raised the heavy Silver scourge. He brought it down directly across my mouth and cheek.

I screamed, the sound tearing my throat raw. The Silver spikes bit into my skin. The metal seared like a branding iron. I could hear the hiss of my own flesh charring, the smell of it filling the small cell.

"Tell me his name!" Silas bellowed.

Pain was a whirlpool, dragging my mind under. My cheek felt as if it were rotting from the Silver's poison. I had to deceive him. I had to lead him to his own doom.

"Hunter," I whispered through bleeding lips. "His name is Hunter."

Silas laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. He was ignorant that Hunter was the name of the Royal Army's most formidable General.

"We are taking her to the Capital," Silas told Elara. "I want to execute this Hunter directly in front of her."

An hour later, guards dragged me from the dungeon. They threw me into a small wooden cage affixed to the back of their carriage. The wooden bars were wrapped in thin Silver wires.

Every time the carriage jolted, my skin brushed against the Silver. The searing pain was a constant companion.

As the carriage lurched forward, I pressed my splinted hand against my flat stomach. The tiny spark of life I had carried—the secret I had never been allowed to speak—was all I had left. And Silas was dragging me toward a fate from which there might be no return.