Chapter 8 His Wolf Wants Her

• The chilling echo of wolves howling far in the distance was the only sound accompanying Elara’s descent into a nightmare. She was dragged not to a traditional dungeon, but to a small, old room smelling of stale sweat and damp decay. They strapped her tightly to a cold metal chair, the rough restraints chafing her wrists. The air was heavy, the light barely penetrating the single, grime-caked window.
• ​Lyra stood before her, her eyes blazing with an unsettling, venomous hatred that Elara had only ever seen in the feral eyes of a dying animal. It was a killing intent so raw, it almost felt physical. Yet, Elara held herself still. This cruelty was familiar; only the faces were new.
• ​“Start the lesson,” Lyra commanded, her voice dangerously smooth. ​The two guards flanking Elara obeyed instantly, hefting buckets filled with ice-cold water. In a barbaric rush, they hurled the contents onto Elara. The shock was immediate and absolute, stealing her breath and tightening her muscles against the chair. Water streamed down her face and soaked into her thin clothes, the cold biting deep into her skin. It was a horrifying sight of inhumanity.