The cell

LAYLA'S POV

It has just been a few hours after I was locked in a cell and I already feel very hungry and cold. The cell is barely six feet by four making stretching a fucking problem. It is hollow cube of concentrate with no window, no bed, no light and no furniture. Just four walls halfway made of metal rods in a crisscross pattern. Given enough time here one can even forget their name.

I really wish there was at least a blanket or anything that can possibly provide warmth. I am still dressed in my dirty, wet dress and the cold floor aren't helping at all.

There aren't any form of sounds, which makes the torture worse. I huddle in one corner, trying to close my eyes and find sleep, but hunger gnaws at my insides making it impossible.

I try to think of anything that will distract me and I unwillingly find myself thinking about the prince magnificent face. He sure is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on. How can someone so physically perfect be paired with someone as selfish as my sister?

But in some way they do match.I have seen him get angry and for sure he did look lethal and scary at some point just like my stepsister.

I even wonder why I am thinking of him, the man who had me locked up in this cell with no real, credible evidence that I had committed the crime. Who knew that his perfection could only be skin deep.

For sure isolation has a way of driving someone crazy because why else would I be thinking about the man who could order my head cut off any day for a crime I have not committed?

Suddenly, a series of loud bangs reverberate against the metal bars, jolting me from my thoughts. It sounds like other inmates banging on their doors. I also hear the faint whistle of a guard growing louder and closer, his footsteps echoing as he walks past the rows of cells. As he approaches, I catch the sound of banging from the neighboring cell to my left and realize I’m not alone.

I stand on tiptoe and peer through the bars into the darkness next cell. At first, all I see is a dark void until my eyes adjust to reveal the silhouette of what appears to be a girl about my age, clutching a piece of bread.

“Hello?” I call out, raising my voice to ensure she hears me.

She turns in my direction, or at least I think she does, but remains silent.

“Why were you banging on your door?” I ask again, hoping for a response.

After what feels like an eternity, she replies, “For food.”

Food? So that’s how it works here, you have to bang on the bars just to get a scrap of bread? It seems this night will also pass without me getting anything to eat.

Things keeps getting more worse in here. I worder how long I can survive expecially when I got no wolf. I feel like breaking down. But then who cares about my emotions if they don't even care if one goes hungry? I'll have to suck it up for now.

“Are you new here?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply flatly, no longer feeling enthusiastic about talking. I need preserve my energy.

“Whenever you hear whistling, bang on your door or they’ll just pass by,” she advises. A moment later, something soft lands on the floor of my cell, a half piece of bread thrown through the bars.

I stare at it on the filthy ground. How can I eat something that just touched this grimy floor?

“Thanks,” I call out, though I don’t reach for it.

“You’re welcome! So who are you?” she asks eagerly.

If I tell her my name, she might recognize me and hate me like everyone else for being wolfless and worthless. For now, lying seems safer.

"My name is Mary." I feel a sense of guilt as I lie to her after she has just helped me but does it really matter. I might even not be alive by the end of tomorrow.

“I’m Mia. It’s nice to finally have a neighbor, It was so boring in here before, welcome,” Her reply is followed by the sound of her laughing.

Welcome? Is she crazy? I hope not.

Silence falls between us for a moment before she breaks it again. “So what did you do?”

“What do you mean?” My heart races. I know exactly what she’s asking but that's not a question I am willing to answer for now.

“Why are you locked up?” she asks impatiently.

"I'm still waiting on my judgement." I say instead of answering her question.

"By the Prince or the council " She asks now sounding more interested.

“Yes, by the prince,” I reply with an edge that suggests our conversation should end here, but Mia seems oblivious to hints.

“Oops! thought I would have you here for a while. They could decide to execute you publicly you know,” she states matter-of-factly.

Why couldn’t they have put me next to someone sane? This girl has no filter whatsoever.

“But at least you’ll get one last look at his breathtaking face before that happens,” she adds cheerfully.

Can’t she stop saying such infuriating things? The last person I want to think about right now is him, the prince, and all that he represents. I really hope Talia gets well soon. 

I don't reply to her and neither does she talk again.

ROWAN'S POV

Something I can't quite figure out about the girl I asked the guards to lock up during today's party keeps bothering me. She looked too beautiful and innocent for a cold blooded murderer.