Chapter 7: Bound By Betrayal

~Ioana~

This wasn't how I envisioned everything to be. I shifted a little, leaning against the cold walls behind me.

At least, never in my life had I imagined that I'd have to deal with this—being locked up by who—no, by what I thought was my mate.

Memories of him, his chilly eyes hiding an ongoing storm, hands grabbing at me, pulling me from the bed. My pitiful defiance was crushed and torn away like fragile paper.

His men had dragged me away at his orders, while I, on the other hand, as pathetic as I was, could do nothing. Everything ached in ways I couldn't explain, including my heart.

And now, as I rested my back once more against the chilling stone wall, my arms went around my knees, wrapping around them, and my head rested on my knees, which dug uncomfortably into my cheeks. The clanking of the chain echoed through the gloomy cells with every shift. I once more realized, 'Fate hates me.' I let out a wry smile. There wasn't any solid proof, but everything I've experienced seemed to point towards it in big, bold red arrows.

I've been miserable since birth, and probably will be for life too.

As I sank, drowning in my self-despair, suddenly, the door creaked as it swung open. I shut my eyes tightly, my world descending into darkness.

But my ears were pricked up. Soon enough, the heavy thudding of footsteps entered. It was slow and casual, as though taking a walk in a park and not a dungeon.

Was it him? Panic flooded my mind. Why was he here?

I thought he wanted nothing to do with me. He made that quite clear—his eyes overflowing with disgust, his lips curling downwards into a frown, the distance he gave, shifting backward away from me, was clear as day.

My arms tightened around myself. Like an ostrich, I pretended I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't feel the searing stare that settled on my trembling form or the heat that emanated from him. Suddenly, the once frigid block, devoid of life, seemed to catch aflame.

Time trickled like a stream blocked with a massive boulder, barely squeezing its way through.

'Please leave. Let me not have anything to do with you. Haven't you marched on my self-worth enough?' At some point, I couldn't remember when I had begun to pray.

Just then, with a thud, something hefty fell to the floor with a slap.

And the voice I inwardly began to dread spoke.

"Don't take me as a fool. You're awake."

I flinched. My arms, instead, did the opposite—tightening on their own accord. I didn't want to see him. He might just remind me of how much of a failure I was.

But when his next words came, I knew I could no longer pretend.

"I hate playing games the most—little spy."

It was a calm voice laced with danger. The hairs at the back of my neck shot up in fright, as did my heartbeat.

I raised my head slowly from my knees, my lashes fluttering nervously, teeth digging into my pale, bloodless lips. "What do you want?" I croaked out as my words cut off under his pressuring gaze.

"Didn't you act as if you were clueless, like you were unaware?" He lightly jutted out his chin. "Take it," he commanded, sprouting goosebumps up my arm that had little to do with the cold.

It was only then I realized that a file sat on the floor, its light brown standing out from the never-ending lifeless gray that seemed to stretch the limits of my mind.

I reached out, picking up the folder, the warmth penetrating my fingers. Bringing it to my view, I flipped it open, the thickness of the paper briefly making me think about how much it cost. Taking a shaky breath—

For some reason, I became nervous. My eyes glossed over the finer details on the paper, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach. I trembled slightly, leaving a darker dirt mark in my carelessness, but I didn't mind that. No, I couldn't, even if I wanted to.

Because right there, in bold black words, was the conclusion of the investigation—something I wished I had never seen. My nose twitched, a lump rapidly grew in my throat, and a warmth rushed toward my eyes. Liquid fell, dropping on the paper, wetting it, blurring my vision.

Dazed, I reached out, smearing it over the print as if it would erase the reality of what I just saw. 'What's this?'

Oh, it wasn't just liquid. It was my tears.

Because right there, on the paper, which had its edges gripped tightly between my hands, were the words:

"...she's ripe of age, and is well aware... to be given to the High Prince, Alessandro, to relieve your burden and warm your bed... we plead for a better year."

And underneath it were two signatures, but my gaze was affixed to one—a signature I had known all my life.

My father's own.

The world tilted. The edges sunk into darkness. I clutched at my chest. I couldn't breathe. I gasped silently, hiding my face between my arm.

A sneer came to me.

"Do you think I'll believe you, little spy?"

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, or rather, the tears wouldn't come out like I wanted them to. I gritted my teeth, snapping, "I don't care if you believe me or not. That's none of my business.

But I wasn't aware of any of this."

"Despite the Alpha of your pack saying you're aware? Are you saying he's lying?"

I froze for a second, rethinking my words. Accusing an Alpha of lying was a serious offense. It spoke of the leader's lack of integrity and not being fit for leadership.

I spoke once more, threading more carefully. "All I'm saying is, I wasn't told about this. I didn't sign up for this."

"It will take more than looking pitiful to make me believe your words, little spy." He looked down at my embarrassed form.

There was something about the way he glanced at me that sparked rage within me. I folded my fingers into a fist, my eyes narrowed.

"Believe it if you will." My voice was still soft. I grimaced—it lacked the edge I wished it did, but I still continued anyway.

"But I know what I know." I gritted my teeth. "And if you're as powerful as you claim, then it wouldn't be hard for you to dig it out."

For a second, I saw it—the flash of surprise, a dash of something that was swiftly masked by amusement and finally, chilling indifference.

"I hope it's as you said, little spy. I'd hate to carry out extra procedures." He stopped there, leaving the ends of his words lingering in the air ominously. I had a feeling I didn't want to know what those extra procedures were.

After dropping those words, he didn't give me as much as a single glance. He spun on his heels, heading out of the dungeon. The bright light from the corridor cast elongated shadows on the floor.

With a resounding boom, the door was slammed shut. Instantly, it descended into darkness, and even if I didn't want to admit it, I preferred when he stayed because at least my thoughts wouldn’t scamper toward me.

But now, left to myself, I was bombarded by them. The moonlight barely illuminated the cell, the weak light only enough for the outlines to be revealed.

My fingers tightened, the edges cutting into my skin, drawing my attention back to the file still in my grip.

He didn't take it with him—probably forgot or maybe despised me enough not to.

But even if I couldn't see it, I knew what it said.

And as it sunk deeper, latching its canines into my mind,

It dawned on me—

I was sold by the people I called family—by my pack, and maybe—my ex-mate.

And the realization hurt. It hurt more than anything I've ever experienced. Was he aware? Was that why he rejected me?

Countless theories surged upwards, filling my head.

It throbbed, bled until I became numb, blankly staring at nothing.