When the Healer Became His Curse

CHAPTER 4

Nyx's POV

The ride felt endless.

Every step the horse took carried me farther from everything I'd ever known. The Alpha's chest pressed against my back, solid and warm. I held myself stiff as a board, refusing to give in to the pull I felt toward him.

The forest rushed past in a blur of shadows. Warriors rode on either side of us, silent and alert. Behind us, I could hear the creaking of the cages carrying my pack. I wanted to look back, to see if Mother was okay, if Finn had stopped glaring, if Isla had made any sound at all.

But I couldn't turn around. Not with the Alpha's arms caging me in.

Nobody spoke. The only sounds were hoofbeats, the rattle of chains, and the occasional sob from one of the cages. Each sound was a knife in my chest, but I couldn't let myself break. Not yet. I needed to stay sharp, stay focused, stay alive long enough to figure a way out of this nightmare.

The trees began to thin and suddenly we broke through into open land. A massive stone castle rose before us, all sharp towers and high walls. Torches blazed along the ramparts and guards stood at attention as we approached. This was the Fire Pack's stronghold.

My new prison.

The gates opened as we drew near and we rode into a huge courtyard. Warriors hurried forward to take the horses and pack members gathered to see what their Alpha had brought back. Their eyes tracked to me first, curious and suspicious, then to the cages behind us. Whispers rippled through the crowd. I caught fragments of their words. Prisoner. Lake Pack. Traitors. The hatred in their faces made my skin crawl.

The Alpha dismounted in one smooth motion and reached up to pull me down. His hands closed around my waist and he set me on my feet but didn't release me immediately. His storm-gray eyes searched my face like he was looking for something.

"My lord." A tall man with dark hair approached and bowed. "The prisoners?"

"Take them to the dungeons," the Alpha ordered. "Separate cells. Post guards at every door."

The man nodded and gestured to the warriors. They began unloading my pack from the cages and I watched as Mother was pulled out first. She looked so small without Father beside her, her shoulders hunched and her face pale. Finn was yanked out next, still fighting even though his hands were bound, his young face twisted with rage and grief. Isla clung to Mother's skirt, silent as a ghost, her eyes empty and staring at nothing.

"Wait," I called out, trying to move toward them. "Please, just let me see them for a moment."

The Alpha's grip on my waist tightened, holding me in place. "No."

"They're terrified. Let me tell them it'll be okay."

"It won't be okay." His voice was flat. "Don't lie to them."

I watched helplessly as guards herded my pack toward a dark doorway that led underground. Mother looked back once, her eyes meeting mine across the distance, and I saw everything she couldn't say. Be strong. Survive. Come back to us. Then she was gone, swallowed by shadows, and I felt like I was being torn in half.

"Come." The Alpha pulled me toward the castle entrance.

"Where are you taking me?" I tried to dig my heels in but he was too strong. "To the dungeons with my pack?"

"No."

That single word sent ice through my veins. If not the dungeons, then where? What did he have planned for me?

We entered the castle through massive doors. The interior was all stone and wood, with weapons hanging on the walls and thick carpets covering the floors. Servants bowed as we passed, their eyes widening when they saw the chains on my wrists.

The Alpha led me up a grand staircase, then down a long hallway lined with portraits of fierce-looking wolves. We climbed another set of stairs and my confusion grew with every step. Weren't dungeons supposed to be underground?

He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and pushed it open.

"Inside," he commanded.

I stepped through the doorway and froze.

This wasn't a cell. This was a bedroom. A massive bed dominated the center of the room, covered in dark furs and pillows. A fireplace crackled against one wall. Weapons hung on another. A large wardrobe stood in the corner and through an open door I could see what looked like a bathing room.

"I don't understand," I said slowly, turning to face him. "Where's my cell?"

"This is it." He closed the door behind him with a final-sounding thud.

"This is a bedroom."

"Yes."

My heart started to pound. "Whose bedroom?"

"Mine."

The word hit me like a physical blow. I took a step back, then another, until my spine pressed against the wall. My mind raced through the implications. His bedroom. Not a cell. Not a dungeon. What did that mean? What did he want from me? "No. You said I'd be your prisoner. Prisoners go in cells."

"You are my prisoner." He moved toward me with the predatory grace of a wolf. "But I don't trust you in a cell where I can't see you. You might be lying. You might try to escape. I need to watch you. All the time."

"So you're keeping me in your bedroom?" My voice rose, panic clawing up my throat. "Like some kind of pet?"

"Like a prisoner I don't intend to lose." He stopped a few feet away, his presence overwhelming in the enclosed space. "You'll sleep here. Eat here. Stay here unless I give you permission to leave."

"With you?" The question came out as a whisper.

"With me." His eyes glinted in the firelight. "I told you. I'm watching you all the time."

"There is no plan!" I wanted to scream, to fight, to run. But the chains on my wrists reminded me of what would happen if I resisted. Ten of my pack would die. Starting with Mother. "I'm not working with anyone. My pack doesn't even know who the Black Rogues are!"

"So you say." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But you claimed you know where they're hiding. So either you lied to save your pack, or you're telling the truth. Either way, you're going to give me answers. Now."

Terror shot through me. This was it. The moment where my lie would either work or get everyone killed.

"I need time," I said, my voice shaking. "My father just died. I watched you kill him. I can't think straight. I can't remember clearly."

His eyes went cold. "Then maybe killing your little sister will help you think straight. Or would your mother be better? A more balanced equation?"