They dragged Lyra like garbage and their fingers dug into her arms and her hair and her bare feet scraped over the marble floor of the great hall, each sound echoing in her skull like thunder though at first she kept on fighting.

She thrashed against them, kicking, twisting, digging her nails into their skin. Her voice was hoarse from screaming but she still spat curses at them, at him, at all of them.

But no one came, no one even looked and by the time they reached the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall her body hung limp between them.

She had stopped fighting.

What was the point?

The dungeon stank of human and wolf waste, and the moment they opened the door, the smell slammed into her so hard she gagged.

“Get in,” one of them muttered shoving her forward.

She stumbled, her knees cracking against the stone floor but before he could catch herself, another guard pushed her fully inside.

The silver cuffs clamped down on her wrists and ankles, the metal searing her skin. She hissed as her whole body arched in pain as they secured her to the wall like an animal.

When they finished, one guard lingered.

Lyra blinked up at him through the haze, her throat raw.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely there. “Please… don’t leave me here. Don’t let them…”

For a second his eyes softened then he shook his head hard, pulled his hand away and turned from her.

The heavy door shut with a final clang and she was alone.

She sagged against the wall, her body shaking uncontrollably. Sweat poured down her neck, soaking her thin dress. Her wrists burned under the silver, and every breath rattled like broken glass in her chest.

It felt like hours.

The sound of the door scraping open startled her awake. Her head jerked up, though her body was too weak to move much else.

She stood there.

Her sister.

Radiant as always with her hair perfect and her neck glistening with Damon’s mark her lips curved into a sickening smile.

“Well,” she said, her voice echoing against the stone. “Look at you. The mighty little reject, ohhh what a sight.”

Lyra tried to sit up straighter but her body refused.

“What do you want?” she rasped.

Her sister stepped closer crouching so their faces were same level.

“I wanted to see for myself,” she murmured. “To see what you look like now that everyone knows the truth.”

Lyra glared at her through sweat dripping into her eyes. “The truth?”

Her smile widened. “That you’re nothing. That you were never one of us, that you were never his mate. Just a pathetic stray we took in. And still…” She tilted her head, studying Lyra.

“…still you had everything, everyone thought you were the better sister, prettier , smarter… more everything. Do you know what it’s like, growing up in your shadow? Hearing people whisper about how perfect you were while I… I was invisible?”

Her words cut something deep but Lyra forced herself to speak.

“That’s not true,” she whispered. “They always treated you better. You… you were their real daughter. You belonged. I understand now why they treated me like I didn’t matter. Because I didn’t.”

Her sister’s lips curled. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember and I am glad we’re not really sisters. Now I don’t have to feel anything about what happens to you.”

She stood up and smoothened her gown and her expression was cold and perfect again.

“I hope you rot down here,” she said, turning away.

The door shut behind her.

Lyra let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes stinging.

So this was it.

She barely noticed the door opening again.

A figure slipped inside quietly, crouching beside her.

The same guard, the one whose eyes had softened earlier, Lyra stared at him through bleary vision.

He uncorked a tiny glass bottle and pressed it to her lips. “Here drink this now” he whispered.

She hesitated but he didn’t give her a chance to refuse, he tilted the bottle and she swallowed, the liquid burned going down but almost immediately strength seeped back into her limbs.

“What are you doing?” she managed.

He pulled out a key and began unlocking her chains. “Everybody’s still distracted by the ceremony. I… I put something in the guards’ drinks. They won’t wake up for a while. We have to be fast.”

Lyra blinked at him, confused. “Why… Why are you helping me?”

For the first time, he truly met her eyes.

“You saved my sister,” he said.

Once the last chain fell he lifted Lyra gently as if she weighed nothing then carried her through the empty halls, Finally they reached a cold, dark room with metal drawers.

The morgue.

He laid her on a cart and covered her with a stained sheet.

“Don’t move,” he muttered.

She didn’t.

He wheeled her through corridors, past unconscious guards, past doors and checkpoints. Her heart hammered as they approached a gate manned by someone still awake.

“Halt,” the higher-ranking wolf barked.

The guard didn’t flinch. “Dead rogue,” he said calmly. “Found in the cells. Taking it to disposal.”

The higher-up sneered but waved him through.

Lyra released the breath she’d been holding only after they passed.

At the final gate, the south gate he stopped.

“Get up,” he murmured.

Lyra pushed herself upright then he handed her the little bottle again and she drank the rest.

More strength rushed through her.

He unfastened his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “It’ll help mask your scent.”

She gripped it tightly. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Just… survive.”

Lyra pulled the hood up, feeling the cold night air sting her face.

As she stepped through the gate and into the darkness, she looked back one last time.

“They’ll wish they’d killed me when they had the chance,” she whispered.

Then she disappeared into the night.