Katrina’s POV
I screamed.
My throat was raw, my voice breaking under the strain, but it didn’t matter. The sound was swallowed by the alley’s narrow walls, drowned out by the cruel, echoing laughter of Nicholas.
“Go on, scream all you want,” he sneered, stepping in close.
His hand shot up, grabbing my chin with bruising force, forcing my face upward. His fingers dug into the soft skin of my jaw, cold and merciless. I flinched as pain spiked through my cheeks, the pressure sharp, controlling.
“No one’s coming for you,” he said, voice low, certain, and laced with satisfaction. “Not Adolphus. Not anyone.”
His words sliced through my chest like a blade.
It wasn’t just what he said, it was how sure he was. The unshakable conviction in his voice settled deep in my gut like a stone. Something cracked inside me. Something that still, even now, had been hoping.
I twisted, renewed desperation taking hold. I shoved, kicked, thrashed with all the strength I had left. But the hands that pinned me down didn’t loosen. They were like iron bars, holding, restraining, violating without need for speed. Fingers brushed across my arms, tracing over my thighs, threading through my hair.
“Please… stop,” I whispered.
It barely left my mouth. The words were weak, breathless. I hated how small I sounded. But I said it anyway.
Nicholas smirked, bending in closer. “Oh, I like it when you beg.”
His voice crawled over my skin like oil. My heart pounded in my chest, erratic and too loud. I could hear it in my ears, pulsing, desperate.
Tears burned in my eyes. I blinked fast, trying to keep my vision clear, but they wouldn’t stop. I kept fighting, but every movement drained more from me. I couldn’t win like this. I was too outnumbered. Too unarmed. Too human.
Then I heard it.
Rip.
The sound of fabric tearing sliced through the air, sharp and final.
Nicholas had grabbed the front of my uniform and yanked. The neckline split open with a violent jerk, threads snapping, seams unraveling. Cold air licked at my exposed skin. I sucked in a breath, the panic now overwhelming and paralyzing.
My body reacted instinctively.
“No!” I cried out, twisting violently under his weight, trying to curl in on myself. Trying to hide. Trying to escape.
But his hand came down again, hard, gripping my chest. His fingers squeezed, rough and cruel, and a wave of nausea surged in my stomach.
I didn’t think.
I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his wrist.
Nicholas screamed. The sound was raw, primal. He tore his arm back, stumbling away.
“You bitch,” he snarled.
His hand swung wide, and cracked against my cheek.
The slap sent me sideways. My vision exploded into white static. Before I could react, another blow struck the opposite side of my face. My head snapped again. Pain bloomed instantly, sharp and hot. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of blood.
I gasped, sagging against the wall, panting. My vision blurred behind tears and pain. Every part of my face throbbed, but nothing hurt as much as the betrayal beating inside my chest.
Nicholas grabbed my hair again, jerking my head back until I was forced to look into his face. His eyes were alight with madness.
“You’re my whore now, you bitch,” he hissed. “Adolphus won’t be able to save you now.”
The words were fire.
Each one a dagger, twisting deeper than the last.
Nicholas laughed again, dark and gleeful. “Right now, while you’re here, broken and helpless, he’s mating with her. Claiming her as his.”
Cassandra. The Princess. My so-called best friend.
The sob escaped me before I could hold it in. It ripped from my chest, raw, broken, jagged.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I choked on the grief clawing its way up my throat. “Please,” I rasped. “Just let me die.”
I meant it.
Right then, I meant it with every part of me.
Nicholas leaned in, his breath hot against my face. “Not just yet,” he whispered. “First, I’m going to have my fun.”
He pushed me down, his weight shifting over mine, his hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the filthy stone floor. My legs kicked out, my body twisted, but nothing worked. I was trapped. Helpless.
Then a voice inside me vibrated. “Katrina, shift.”
It was faint. But it was there.
I froze for the briefest second. My wolf? It had never spoken to me before. Not once.
Before I could even process the shock, a pain shot through my chest like lightning. My body arched as heat exploded under my skin, spreading fast, wild, out of control.
My muscles locked, then convulsed violently. Bones snapped with a wet, sickening crack, rearranging themselves in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. A scream tore from my throat, primal and blood-curdling. It wasn’t fear anymore, it was pain. Pure, all-consuming pain.
Nicholas reeled back. “What the hell—?”
Then light erupted from me.
Blinding. White. Radiant.
It surged out in every direction, engulfing the alley like a supernova. The men who held me were thrown away like rag dolls, crashing into walls with cries of shock and pain.
Nicholas flew backward, slammed into the stone with a brutal thud, and slid to the ground in a heap.
My body continued to shift, stretching, warping. My hands curled into claws. My limbs elongated, sinew twisting, fur bursting from my skin in streaks of shimmering silver. It felt like being torn apart and rebuilt in seconds.
And then, suddenly, everything stopped.
I stood on all fours, panting. The world around me was sharp, every sound magnified. I could hear Nicholas’s rapid heartbeat, the ragged breath in his lungs. I could smell the fear pouring off him like sweat.
I looked down at myself. I wasn’t just a wolf.
I was a silver wolf, alive with power and I wasn’t helpless anymore.