Katrina’s POV
I scrubbed the stone floor in slow, methodical circles, the rag worn thin beneath my fingers. Each motion pulled at the sore muscles in my shoulders and back.
My hands burned from the friction, skin raw beneath the icy sting of the water. The chill had seeped so deep into my bones that I couldn’t tell where the ache ended and the numbness began. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t complain.
I didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
My thoughts were far from this damp hallway. They drifted, unbidden, unwanted, back to him. Adolphus. His name alone made something twist inside me, sharp and persistent.
I tried to shove the thoughts down, bury them beneath the weight of routine, but they rose anyway. They always did.
The life I had before it felt like a story someone else had told me. And no matter how tightly I held onto the pieces, they slipped through my fingers like dust.
The door slammed open with a violent bang.
I jumped, breath catching in my throat. The rag slipped from my grip and dropped into the bucket, splashing freezing water onto my skirt and soaking through the thin fabric.
My knees scraped against the cold stone as I twisted toward the noise.
Jasmine stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. Her face was flushed, lips parted as she gasped for air. Her braid had come loose, strands sticking to her damp forehead.
“Katrina!” she panted.
I scrambled halfway to my feet, hands trembling as I braced against the wall. The urgency in her voice shot through me like a jolt of lightning. “Jasmine, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rushed toward me and grabbed my wrist with clammy fingers. “You have to go to the Alpha’s place. Right now.”
My brows drew together, breath catching. “Why? What happened?” My voice came out thin, too high, the edges tinged with panic.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly, shaking her head. Her grip tightened. “Just go. Please. Hurry.”
Something wasn’t right. Her eyes darted to the hallway behind her, as if someone might follow. But I didn’t push. If there was even a sliver of a chance to see Adolphus, really see him, I wasn’t going to waste it.
I nodded, swallowing down the growing unease. “Alright. I’m going.”
Relief washed over her face. She didn’t give me time to ask more. She all but shoved me into the hallway, murmuring something I couldn’t catch before disappearing behind the closing door.
The wind outside bit through my damp clothes as I made my way toward the Alpha’s estate. The path was dim, lit only by scattered torches that flickered in the wind.
As I got closer, a rhythmic pounding echoed through the air.
Drum rolls.
My steps slowed. My brows knit together. Celebratory beats? No. There was no festival today. No feast, no gathering I had heard of.
That knot of worry pulled tighter in my chest.
Then, from nowhere—a hand.
Fingers like iron clamped around my upper arm, yanking me backward with such force my breath caught in my throat. My shoes scraped against the dirt, body thrown off balance. Panic surged. I opened my mouth to scream—
A deep, mocking chuckle stopped me cold.
“Well, well,” came a voice soaked in malice. “Look what we have here.”
Nicholas.
My blood turned to ice.
Before I could fight, more hands seized me. Rough. Calloused. Too strong. They gripped both arms, digging in, dragging me away from the entrance.
My heels scraped the path. I kicked, twisted, shoved, but I couldn’t break free.
“No! Let me go!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with panic, but the drums continued to thunder, drowning me out, masking the sounds of my struggle in their steady, merciless rhythm.
We slipped into an alleyway, dark and narrow, hidden from the glow of the torches. The smell hit me first.
Damp stone. Mold. Rotting wood. The stink curled in my nose and throat, made my stomach lurch.
Nicholas released me with a shove, and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself.
My knees hit the ground hard. I coughed, choking on the bile rising in my throat as I tried to orient myself in the murk.
“You bastard,” I spat, lifting my head with fury blazing in my eyes.
Nicholas stood in front of me, smug and unbothered, his expression a mask of sick amusement. He tilted his head, like a predator watching its prey’s last defiant act.
“Now, now, Katrina,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s no way to greet an old friend.”
I pushed up onto my feet, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. “Go to hell.”
He laughed, casual, entertained, as if I were telling a joke just for him. “You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said. “I like that.”
Something shifted behind me.
The other men were circling now, footsteps soft but deliberate, like wolves tightening the ring around a cornered animal. I could hear them breathing. Feel their eyes.
My chest rose and fell faster. The air in the alley felt too thin. My skin prickled with dread.
Nicholas whistled, a sharp, cruel sound that made my stomach drop.
“Boys,” he said. “Let’s have some fun.”