From Hidden Scars to Lycan Queen

Kara POV:

The pickaxe felt like an extension of my arm. Heavy. Cold. Unforgiving.

It struck the rock wall, the impact jarring up through my bones. Dust filled my lungs, thick and sour with the smell of sweat and despair. For three years, this was my world. The rhythmic clang of metal on stone, the groans of exhausted men, the damp chill that never left.

My hands were a mass of calluses and freshly broken blisters. I didn't feel them anymore. I didn't feel much of anything.

A whip cracked against the iron bars of a nearby cart, sharp and loud.

"Move it, you worthless scum!" Martha Kowalski, the overseer, screamed at a boy who had stumbled.

I didn't flinch. Didn't look up. Wasting energy was a death sentence in the Blackore Mines. Attention was a death sentence.

Heavy boots stopped in front of me. I kept my eyes on the rock I was chipping away at.

"You," Martha's voice dripped with contempt.

I finished my swing before slowly, mechanically, looking up at her.

Her eyes, small and cruel, raked over my filthy tunic and gaunt face. A smirk twisted her lips.

"You're free."

The mining tunnel fell silent. The only sound was the drip of water somewhere in the darkness. Every eye was on me.

"House Powers sent for you," she spat, as if the name left a bad taste in her mouth.

Free. The word didn't register. My heart gave a single, painful thud against my ribs, then was silent again. This wasn't freedom. It was just a change of cages.

I let the pickaxe fall from my numb fingers. It clattered against the stone floor. As I straightened my back, a familiar, sharp pain shot up from my leg, a reminder of a badly healed break from my first year here.

Two guards grabbed my arms, their grips rough. They didn't have to drag me. I walked. Out of the tunnel, away from the darkness that had been my home.

The sunlight was a physical blow. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding pain.

When I could finally force them open, I saw it. A carriage of polished black obsidian, gleaming like a scar against the mud and filth of the mining camp. The golden lion crest of House Powers was emblazoned on the door. A crest I once thought was mine.

The door opened.

A man stepped out. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than this entire mine's output for a year. His face was as handsome as I remembered, and his eyes, when they landed on me, were filled with pure, undiluted disgust.

Aden Powers.

My body went rigid. The air left my lungs. Three years vanished. I was sixteen again, on my knees, begging him to believe me as he pushed me toward the guards who would bring me here.

I lowered my head, my chin touching my chest. A slave's posture.

"Look at me," his voice was ice.

Slowly, I lifted my head. My face was caked in grime, my hair a tangled mess, but my eyes met his. My green eyes, which he used to say were like the forest after a storm. Now they were just a stagnant pool.

His jaw tightened. The sight of me, this broken thing, seemed to fuel his anger. "Look at the state of you. You've disgraced the Powers name."

My chapped lips moved, forming words that felt strange and new on my tongue.

"A slave has no name, master."

The word "master" hit him like a slap. His face went from pale to a furious red. He took a step forward, his hand clenching into a fist. I saw the impulse in his eyes, the desire to strike me.

But he stopped. I could almost hear his father's command in his head. Bring her back. Intact.

"Get in the carriage," he snarled through gritted teeth.

I didn't resist. I limped toward the opulent carriage, my bad leg dragging. But instead of reaching for the gilded door, I bypassed the luxurious cabin and pulled myself up onto the hard wooden bench beside the driver.

Aden stared at me, his disbelief quickly morphing into a dark rage. "What do you think you're doing?"

"A slave does not belong inside the cabin, Master," I said, my voice flat, keeping my eyes fixed on the muddy road ahead. "It is against the rules."

"You..." His fists clenched at his sides. He took a menacing step closer. "Get inside!"

"I know my place," I replied, refusing to look at him.

I stared out at the desolate landscape as the hell of the Blackore Mines disappeared behind us. A new war was beginning. And this time, I was ready.