Chapter 8

Davina’s POV

I sat up, wincing as the pain shot through my body. My ribs felt like they’d been crushed, and my face stung where Lyra had struck me. But it wasn’t just the pain that had my mind spinning. It was him, the stranger I just saw.

Who was he? And what did he want? I just couldn't understand why someone would come inside here acting all strange. Did they send him to harm me? And he took pity on me? Or was I just imagining things? My heart had been beating so hard that I barely registered anything except the fact that he didn’t hurt me.

I shivered, thinking about how weak I’d been at that moment. If he’d wanted to harm me, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. I wouldn’t have even been able to scream for help not that anyone would have come. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, and my chest tightened with fear.

But instead of hurting me, he left. Why?

I stared at the cracked ceiling above me, the same cracks I’d counted over and over in my darkest hours. My mind drifted, as it often did, to the one person who’d always made me feel safe. My father.

Gosh, how I missed him.

He wouldn’t have let this happen to me. If he was alive, I wouldn’t be locked away, treated like trash by the very people who were supposed to be my family.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I was back there on that horrible day.

The flashback…

It was a cold, overcast morning when we got the news. I was in the kitchen, helping one of the pack’s cooks prepare breakfast. Lyra came rushing in, her face was pale but her eyes too bright, like she was putting on a show.

“They found him,” she announced, her voice was trembling just enough to sound believable. “Father… he’s dead.”

The plate in my hands slipped and fell, shattering on the floor. My chest tightened, and the room seemed to spin.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, that’s not true.”

But Lyra just nodded, her lips pursed like she was holding back tears. “They found his body in the woods. He was hunting, and… something must’ve gone wrong.”

I remember running to the sitting room, where my mother stood by the window, staring out as though the world beyond the glass was far more interesting than the news of her husband’s death.

“He’s gone,” I choked out, hoping for some kind of comfort.

She glanced at me with her cold eyes. “Yes,” she said flatly. “It’s a shame.”

A shame. That was all she had to say about the man who’d loved her, who’d trusted her to take care of me.

I crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Lyra stood nearby, dabbing at her eyes with an handkerchief, though I didn’t see a single tears fall.

Later that day, when the pack gathered to mourn, mother made a short, perfunctory speech about her “beloved husband.” I sat in the back, my heart broke as I realized just how little they cared.

The memory faded, but the pain lingered in my heart every single day.

“I miss you, Father,” I whispered, in my head.

He would’ve known what to do. He always did. He would’ve stood up to mother and Lyra, protected me from their cruelty. He would’ve reminded me that I was worth something, that I mattered.

But he wasn’t here. And now, I was completely alone.

The sound of footsteps snapped me back to the present. As the door opened, and mother walked in, curling her lips into a cruel smile.

“Well, look who’s still alive,” she said, with her voice dripping with mockery.

I didn’t respond. What was the point?

She stepped closer, with her heels clicking against the floor. “Do you think crying will bring him back? Or make us have pity on you?”

I blinked up at her, clearly confused.

“Your father,” she clarified, sneering. “Do you think he’d come riding in to save you, if only he could see how pathetic you’ve become?”

Her words were like a dagger to the chest. But I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to speak.

“He wouldn’t like this,” I said, yet again through the mind link. “He wouldn’t want you to treat me this way.”

Mother eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I saw anger or was it guilt? behind them. But then she let out a harsh bitter sound laughed.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about what your father would’ve wanted,” she snapped. “He left you to me. He trusted me to raise you, and this is the thanks I get? Taking what belongs to my daughter?”

I flinched as she took another step closer, her presence was overwhelming.

“You’re nothing but a burden,” she continued, raising her voice. “A reminder of everything I lost because of him.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “He loved me,” I said softly. “And you… you’re nothing like him.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Mother’s hand flew out before I could react, the slap landed on my face with a force that sent me sprawling to the floor. My cheek burned, and my head spun, but I bit back the cry that threatened to escape.

“You will not speak to me like that through that stupid mind link,” she hissed, walking over me. “You will stay in this room until you learn your place, do you understand?”

I nodded, too stunned to do anything else.

She straightened, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened. “Good. Maybe some time alone will remind you of how lucky you are to still have a roof over your head.”

With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

I lay there on the cold, hard floor, my cheek throbbed and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

I had never felt so alone.