03

POV: LIAM 

I refuse to leave her side as the doctors usher me out of the room, their voices fading into the background. My resolve to protect and care for her burns unwaveringly. The room may be filled with medical professionals, but I am her lifeline, her unwavering support in this moment of vulnerability. 

My heart clenches as I witness the doctors gently turn her over onto her stomach, their hands deftly tearing away the remnants of her tattered blouse. 

Suppressing a primal growl that threatens to escape my throat, I clench my fists tightly, my entire being seething with a mix of fury and despair. The sight that greets my eyes is nothing short of a painful revelation. 

Her back, once a canvas of smooth and unblemished skin, is now a tapestry of redness and blood. Deep cuts mar the surface, refusing to heal due to the severity of the damage inflicted upon her. 

The brutality she has endured becomes starkly evident, etched into her flesh. My protective instincts surge forth, urging me to hold her close, to shield her from further harm. 

The sight of dark scars that crisscross her body sends a tremor of anguish through my Lycan being. Each mark tells a story of pain and suffering, a testament to the horrors she has endured. 

A surge of anger rises within me, a primal rage fueled by the knowledge that no one should endure such cruelty, regardless of any crimes they may have committed. As the doctor murmurs observations, her voice laced with sympathy, I move closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing me toward my mate. 

Without hesitation, I reach out and take her hand, my touch serving as a lifeline amid her pain. 

I whisper softly, my voice a soothing balm against her suffering. 

"I'm sorry, my love," I promise, my words filled with tenderness. "They will pay dearly for every ounce of pain they've inflicted upon you."

The vow resounds with unwavering determination, a solemn oath that I will exact justice for the atrocities she has endured. No one shall escape the consequences of their actions, for I will be the guardian of her well-being. 

POV: DYLAN 

My chest heaves with each labored breath, the searing pain a relentless reminder of the rejection I have just faced. The disbelief courses through my veins, mingling with a profound sense of betrayal. 

How could she do this? 

Why would she accept my rejection so willingly? 

I had anticipated a different outcome, convinced that she would come to me, begging me to take back my words. I had planned to give myself time to reconsider, to allow her the chance to prove the worthiness of my affections. 

However, her acceptance shattered those expectations, leaving me with a roiling anger that threatens to consume me. The sheer thought of it makes my blood boil, my body trembling with uncontainable rage. 

Yet, despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through me, I find myself trapped within the confines of my office. The intensity of the pain emanating from my chest, an agony that echoes within my soul, renders me immobile. 

My wolf, once fierce and untamed, now whimpers and howls in grief, mirroring the devastation in my heart. 

Confusion swirls amidst the torrent of emotions, making it impossible to pinpoint any single feeling. However, amidst the chaos, one truth remains steadfast: I need to see Daliah. I refuse to leave her, to let her slip away because of the opinions and judgments of others. The bond we share is too profound, too powerful to be severed so easily. 

As I gradually regain composure, the pain subsiding to a dull ache, I reach out through our mental connection to the head of the guards, seeking to have Daliah released from the dungeons. 

Yet, to my mounting distress, no response comes forth. The absence of their presence, the inability to feel their wolf within the pack's mental network, sends a shiver of unease down my spine. 

Something is amiss, and a deep sense of foreboding settles within me, urging me to uncover the truth of what has befallen us. 

With irritation pulsating through my veins, I make my way toward the dungeons, my determination unwavering. As I arrive, a wave of annoyance washes over me as I witness the guards casually conversing at the entrance. 

Frustration boils within me, compelling a deep growl to escape my throat, jolting them into alertness and recognition of my presence. Their nonchalant demeanor quickly transforms into one of respect. 

Wasting no time, I stride purposefully toward my mate's cell, my anticipation mingled with a growing sense of unease. However, the sight that greets me intensifies my anger to its peak. 

The once-impenetrable silver bars have been torn off their hinges, a clear sign of a powerful force that has breached this place of captivity. 

My snarl echoes through the air as I lay my eyes upon two men, their bodies torn apart as if savaged by a wild beast. 

Rage surges within me, fueled by a mix of concern for Daliah's safety and the audacity of anyone who would dare harm her.

"What happened here?" I demand, my voice dripping with a lethal combination of anger and authority. I seize one of the guards by his collar, my grip unyielding as I pull him closer, my eyes locked fiercely onto his. 

In a trembling voice, he manages to respond, "The Lycan King... he came here... and took the girl." 

The revelation strikes a chord deep within me, a mixture of relief and worry intertwining. Relief that Daliah is no longer within these confines, subjected to further torment. Worry for her well-being, knowing that her escape has undoubtedly drawn attention and potentially unleashed a chain of consequences. 

With a final snarl of warning, I release the guard from my grip, leaving no room for doubt as to the consequences he will face should any harm befall my mate. Every fiber of my being is consumed by a single purpose now: to find Daliah, to protect her at all costs, and to unleash my wrath upon those who have dared to harm what is rightfully mine. 

The guard's stammering and hesitance only serve to fuel my growing frustration. The mention of the guards' misconduct towards my mate triggers a surge of primal rage within me, the intensity of which threatens to consume my senses. Their actions will not go unpunished. 

My voice drips with menace as I issue a stern warning, "If you do not cease your stuttering and speak clearly, I will make good on my promise to break your neck. Now, tell me what transpired." 

With an abrupt force, I hurl the guard against the wall, his body colliding with a resounding thud as pain reverberates through him. In a raspy voice, strained from the impact, he finally manages to convey the horrifying truth. 

"The men... they harassed her, and the King slew them, sir," he confesses, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.