Chapter 20

RAGNAR

I sat in the chair, my elbows resting on my knees, eyes locked on the girl lying on the bed.

It had been two hours since I carried her out of the room Ryder had dropped, two hours since the whip had kissed her back over and over until her skin broke and her blood hit the floor.

My heart had shattered when I saw her sprawled on the floor, half-conscious and stuffing to breathe.

Now she lay there, breathing heavily. Her breaths were uneven, sometimes shallow, sometimes deep. Blood still seeped from the cuts. The smell of it filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of sweat and cold stone.

She wasn’t healing. That was the part that made my chest tight. By now, her kind should have started closing the wounds, even if slowly. But they stayed open, raw, red.

I told myself, "I’d done what I had to do. She needed to understand who she belonged to. She needed to see that defiance had a price. I had to be the one to show it." I murmured low.

But watching her now, I felt something else gnaw at me.

"Regret."

I hated that word. I hated feeling it. I had ruled over wolves, rogues, thieves, killers — I didn’t regret punishments. Yet here I was, sitting in this damn chair, watching her chest rise and fall and thinking I should have stopped sooner.

"I shouldn't have punished her in that savage manner."

I picked up the small wooden bowl beside me. The water inside had gone lukewarm, but I dipped the cloth in anyway.

My hand moved slowly as I pressed it to her back, wiping away the dried blood. She didn’t stir.

The sight of the red on the cloth made my stomach twist. I cursed under my breath, not at her, but at myself.

"I’d let my temper run wild. I’d taken the whip harder than I should have."

It wasn't because of her escape alone, but because of what it stirred in me — the thought that she might actually slip away from me.

"I couldn’t let that happen. Not her." I folded my fist causing droplets of water to crawl down the sheets.

I released my hands and shook my head slowly. The reason for me doing that was obvious.

"I needed her. Not just her body, not just her obedience. I needed the power I’d felt pulsing under her skin."

I’d sensed it the moment I struck her in the throne room. Every time the whip landed, it stirred inside her, like a beast wanting to tear its cage apart. I’d been ready for her to explode, to unleash it. But she didn’t. She held it in. She tamed it, even while in pain.

That… impressed me.

But It also scared me.

Because if she could control it like that, she could hide it from me too.

The door creaked, and Ryder stepped in. He carried a bundle of herbs, their smell sharp enough to cut through the scent of blood.

He closed the door and came over, setting them down. Then he sat beside me, giving me a nudge with his elbow.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “You don’t need to sit here like a worried mate.”

I didn’t look at him. I pressed the cloth to another cut, watching more blood smear the fabric. “She’s not healing like she should.”

Ryder leaned back, his eyes on her. “Maybe because her wolf side isn’t awake yet.”

I shook my head. “The power should still be doing something.”

He picked up one of the herbs and rolled it in his fingers. “Or maybe she’s not letting it go.”

That thought landed heavier than I expected. I stared at her again, thinking of how she’d held herself in the throne room. “You think she’s choosing to stay hurt?”

Ryder shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to spit in your face that way. You want to show strength, she shows it too, by not healing.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t like the idea of her trying to make a point, especially if it meant risking herself. But deep down, I knew Ryder was probably right.

We kept our voices low, but maybe not low enough.

Because she stirred. Her head turned, and those eyes were still sharp despite the pain, locked on us.

I stopped moving the cloth. She shifted away from me, dragging herself a few inches toward the wall. Her glare cut into me like she wanted me dead right there.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward. I liked that look. She was bleeding, weak, half-broken and still she glared like she could set me on fire with it.

“You’re awake,” I said, my voice calm.

She didn’t soften. “That’s because you assholes won’t let me rest… after whipping me near to death in front of everyone like an animal.”

The words hit harder than I expected. It wasn’t the insult. I’d been called worse. It was the raw hate in her tone. She didn’t just dislike me. She wanted to rip me apart.

For a moment, I just stood there. Then I rose from the chair, letting the cloth drop back into the bowl.

“Then heal yourself,” I ordered. “Because in two days, you’ll be performing for private clients. That’s your second punishment for trying to escape.”

I didn’t look at her as I spoke. I didn’t want to see the way her face would twist when the words landed.

I started toward the door, Ryder following behind me. My hand touched the handle.

“Fuck you one hundred billion times, freak!”

The words tore through the air, sharp enough to make me stop. But I didn’t turn around. My hand just tightened on the handle.

Part of me wanted to go back, to show her she couldn’t speak to me like that. Another part of me… liked that she still could.

I opened the door and walked out.