I'm trapped, helpless, and silent. I'm a prisoner in my own mind, screaming for help that refuses to come. The silver coursing through my veins renders my wolf inaudible, leaving me to beg for assistance in vain. My cries of pain are muffled, a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to hear me.
I scream out to the entire pack, praying someone can feel my anguish. Perhaps Oliver and the twins will sense my torment and come to my rescue. But wolfsbane blocks our connection, leaving me to suffer in isolation. Maybe my wolf is the only link I have to them, a last resort to reach out for help.
I'm caught in a world of pain, unable to focus on anyone or anything. The muffled sounds of conversation and footsteps surrounding me are lost in the din of my agony. But I'm vaguely aware of a hand gripping my hair, pulling it, and sending sharp pains coursing through my scalp.
Then, the unmistakable sound of scissors, snip after snip, as they cut off my hair. It's as if my tormentor is trying to erase any semblance of identity or humanity from me. What kind of monster does this?
A voice, cold and calculating, speaks up, "Now you'll look terrible, and none of the guys will want to be seen with you. Make sure she's locked away until after the ball, preferably for a day or two. Stop right there! This chapter belongs to the original creator at ᒍоbη????ƃ.????οm. If you're not on our official site, someone's taken it. Make sure to get authentic chapters by visiting ᒍоbη????ƃ.????οm directly. That should give me plenty of time with the Alphas. And if I see you anywhere near them after this, Skank, I will make sure you don't survive the next round. There are plenty of wolves willing to help me get rid of worthless trash like you."
The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor fades into the distance as I'm subjected to another round of brutal beating, my face and body a mess of punches and kicks. My eyes are swollen shut, and I can feel the warmth of tears streaming down my deformed face.
I chant "please help me" in my head, over and over, as my cries of pain go ignored. I'm trapped, bound, or broken, unable to move or escape my torment. I knew there was a target on my back when the guys planned to take Sierra and me to this stupid ball, but I never thought I'd end up like this.
I hope Sierra isn't suffering the same fate, locked away in some dark corner, as I am in this locker room. The place where I should feel most at home, where I've always felt a sense of belonging, is now my own personal hell.
This is where I'll take my last breath, trapped in this arena, my true home. I can only hope it's not as bad as it seems. I wish I could have fought for my life, but instead, I'm just a broken, helpless pawn in someone else's twisted game.
The light is fading, and the sounds around me are growing quieter, but I'm not sure if I'm just losing my hearing or consciousness. I wish I could say goodbye to the kids, Brandon and Cam, Mateo and Oliver. I bet they'd all be here for me, fighting for me, if they knew what was happening.
I picture the sparkle in Brandon's eye, always determined to win, and Cam's easygoing smile, always up for a challenge. Dakota would be offering advice, and Sam would be trash-talking Cam. And Mateo and Oliver would be standing guard, always the protectors.
