Iris struggled with a desperate, final burst of strength. But the fabric of her dress ripped away in an instant, offering no resistance.

The cold night air slid over her exposed skin, drawing a shiver from deep within her. Cane's rough hands gripped her thighs.

She knew what was coming.

She tried to brace herself, to steel her mind for the inevitable... but when faced with the reality, her body betrayed her, recoiling in a seizure of panic.

Then, suddenly... everything stopped.

The weight on her back vanished. The mattress shifted, lifting slightly. Cane had gotten to his feet.

Bewildered, Iris scrambled for a blanket and pulled it tight around herself. She curled into a ball beneath it, trembling.

His back was to her as he pulled his pants back on.

"What's on your back?"

She didn't understand.

"I'm asking you what's on your back," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "Who did that to you?"

Cane had a vague memory of her. The Alpha's daughter. A fragile, absent child he'd rarely ever seen. During his years of slavery, he had only glimpsed her twice, paying her no mind. Why would he have? She was just a pale, quiet girl, nearly invisible.

"Answer me."

He spun around, his irritation flaring at her silence.

Iris, wrapped in the blanket, looked tiny.

Too frail. Even a starving slave looked sturdier. How had she grown up like this? And more importantly... how could she bear marks like those?

He'd seen her back. It was crisscrossed with countless deep scars.

Impossible. A she-wolf healed without a trace... unless the wounds were made by silver. Like his own.

Then who had dared to inflict that on an Alpha's daughter?

"I'm asking you one last time: who did this to you?!"

His patience snapped. Being ignored by his own slave was a defiance he wouldn't tolerate. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed her, and forced her to face him.

His gaze locked on her chin.

The mark he'd left there earlier was still visible—red and slightly broken.

Why hadn't it healed?

Cane frowned, staring into her wide blue eyes. Her auburn hair tumbled in a messy wave over her face, falling across the blanket that was her only protection.

"Answer me," he commanded, his voice hard as stone.

Iris swallowed, her throat tight. Her fingers clutched the blanket as if it were a lifeline.

"What...?"

Her voice trembled.

"What... what question?"

She didn't understand. Her mind was a blank wall of fear.

Cane stood frozen for a moment, an unfamiliar flicker of unease running through him. A different emotion crossed his face—fleeting, indistinct.

Then he looked away.

"Get out."

His voice was even harsher now.

"Get out of here."

He knew Iris's brother, the Alpha heir. He had observed and studied him. But her... she had never mattered.

He released his grip.

Iris scrambled off the bed—naked, vulnerable, exposed. Her eyes fell on a shirt discarded on the floor.

"I... I'm taking this."

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled it on, the too-large fabric hanging around her small frame.

She glanced up at him, but Cane did nothing to stop her.

The simple T-shirt Iris wore as she left Cane's room hung to her mid-thighs. On her, it looked enormous, emphasizing the stark difference in their size and build.

The guard escorting her back was different from the one who had brought her. This one didn't handle her roughly or drag her along. He simply walked beside her, matching her slower pace.

"Your brother was lucky," the guard said, glancing at her. "Your father didn't put him through what he put you through."

Iris, her head lowered, gave no reaction. She hadn't heard a word. The guard sighed, annoyed.

"How could a man like your father have a daughter like you..."

He knew she couldn't hear him. It was no secret. Anyone who had gotten close to her in the past week had figured it out.

Meanwhile, Iris had lifted her gaze to the sky. The night was clear, and a thin crescent moon shone down on her.

The Moon Goddess.

If a deity truly watched over them, why had she allowed her to fall into such a nightmare?

Despite the bitterness flooding her, she felt a faint sense of relief. Being outside, feeling the air on her skin... it was already better than the suffocating darkness of her cell, where only the cold walls kept her company.

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying silently that this would all end one day.

And deep inside her, another thought forced its way through the fear. She hoped Cane wouldn't treat the members of the Blue Moon Pack the way her father had treated his people. Most of them were just subordinates. They only obeyed orders.

"Get in." The guard opened the cell door. "We'll bring you something to eat."

Iris entered without protest.

Instantly, the darkness swallowed her again. The cold bit into her skin, a chill so deep it felt as if nothing could ever warm her here.

She went to a corner and sat, pulling her legs to her chest. She curled in on herself, seeking what little warmth she could find. Yet, despite the shivers, her body seemed to burn from the inside.

She recognized the feeling.

The sickness was returning.

...

"She can't hear?"

Cane stood leaning against his desk, arms crossed, as Jace, his Beta, delivered his report.

"No, Alpha. She's always been fragile. On top of her poor health, she has hearing problems. She compensates by reading lips. It's how she communicates."

That explained it. She hadn't responded earlier because she couldn't see his face. Not until he had forced her to look at him.

"And her father? How did he treat her?"

Cane couldn't get the image of her back out of his mind. Those marks... there was no doubt. They were from a whip.

But who would have dared to do that to an Alpha's daughter?

Jace raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you ask? Could it be you... feel compassion for her?"

He stared at his Alpha, trying to read him. But Cane's gaze was impenetrable, deep and unsettling.

"Compassion?" Cane tilted his head, and his eyes darkened. "You don't feel compassion for an enemy, Jace."

The Beta fell silent for a moment, troubled.

"I managed to contact her personal servant. If you want, I can have her brought in for questioning."

Cane considered it briefly.

"Bring her."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"You're going to handle it yourself?"

"Yes."

Surprised, Jace didn't argue further.

A short time later, they brought Iris's servant into the room. As soon as she saw Cane, she lowered her head, visibly terrified.

"Her name is Hanna," Jace added, glancing at the trembling woman. "She's looked after Iris since she was seven."

The young woman looked to be in her twenties. She seemed physically unharmed, but her eyes were red-rimmed from hours of crying.

"Alpha... Cane... I'm Hanna," she murmured, nervously wringing her hands.

Cane gestured toward the door. Jace and the guard left without a word.

The door clicked shut, leaving them alone.

"Tell me everything you know about her."

Cane cut straight to the point. He had no time to waste.

It had only been a week since he'd taken out the old Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack and captured his children. Now, he had to consolidate his authority. There was still much to settle: sanctions to enforce, rules to rewrite, order to impose.

Hanna raised her head slightly.

"Iris...?"

She hesitated, her voice barely a whisper, as if she'd misheard. But when she met Cane's icy gaze, her own dropped at once.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"Yes... yes, Alpha..."

Hanna drew a shuddering breath, then began to speak. She had known Iris since they were children. She doubted she could tell the Alpha anything he didn't already know, but she spoke anyway.

"Please... Alpha Cane... don't hurt her..." Her voice trembled. "She isn't like her father."

Hanna was only a low-ranking she-wolf. She knew all too well what Cane's pack had suffered under the old Alpha. She knew they had been treated like slaves. But Iris... she'd had nothing to do with any of it.

That just wasn't what Cane wanted to hear.

"Tell me about the marks on her back."

Hanna flinched. If he had seen those wounds... then he must have undressed her. A cold dread washed over her. She didn't dare imagine what Iris had been forced to endure.

"It's..." Her voice cracked. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, a hot mix of fear and fury churning in her gut.

"I heard nothing." Cane took a step toward her. The sound of his boots echoed through the room, each footfall heavy and oppressive. "Who gave her those scars... and why?"

Hanna looked up sharply. The question struck her with the force of a blow. He knew. Facing him, she had no choice left.

He waited.

And this time, she had to answer.

...

"There's something wrong..." The guard slowed outside Iris's cell, squinting into the darkness.

"Sick again, I'd say," the other replied, his pace not faltering.

The first guard stopped completely, and his partner finally circled back to stand beside him in front of the bars.

Inside, Iris was curled into a ball, her body wracked with tremors. She looked impossibly small, almost nonexistent in the freezing corner.

"She's never been strong. Looks like she won't last much longer."

It was the second time she'd fallen ill this week.

A heavy silence settled between them.

"She won't make it through the week, that's for sure."

The first guard shrugged. "Honestly, it'd be better if the Alpha just finished her off. More humane that way."

They were of the Howling Wolf Pack. For ten long years, they had lived under the thumb of the Blue Moon Pack. Ten years of brutality, chains, and humiliation.

Iris had never been part of that. But it wasn't her actions being judged, only her blood.

"She won't survive in this condition..." one of them muttered, elbowing his companion.

They exchanged a look, then continued their rounds.

A flicker of pity stirred within them. A weak, fleeting pity, not nearly enough to erase a decade of suffering.

If she died here, alone in this damp cell, it wouldn't be an injustice. Maybe it would even be a release. A gentler end than the one that likely awaited her.

...

"Die! You filthy dog!"

Mason's scream ripped through the room as the blade sank into his flesh.

"I swear I'll kill you all! Do you hear me?! I'll slaughter every last one of you!"

His voice broke, dissolving into a pained rasp.

The men around him didn't answer. They were careful. Methodical.

Each blow was calculated. Nothing fatal.

They made him suffer, then gave him just enough time to start healing. Then they began again. And again.

Mason, son of the Blue Moon Alpha. The one who should have inherited it all.

Today, he was nothing.

His pack was shattered, and he was just a prisoner, left to pay for his crimes.

And there was so much to pay for.

Cruel, violent, and hungry for dominance... he had walked in his father's footsteps without a moment's hesitation. The members of the Howling Wolf Pack had been his playthings. He had enslaved them, tortured them, and taken whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

"We could cut something off, right? It's not like he'll be needing it. Would save everyone a lot of trouble."

The man turned his head toward Ethan.

"What do you say, Gamma?"

Ethan offered a slow, predatory smile, baring his fangs.

"He won't die from something like that," he replied calmly. "His body will repair the damage."

Ethan's orders were to watch Mason until the Alpha decided his fate. In the meantime, he could do as he pleased.

There was only one condition. Keep him alive.

"Go fuck yourself, Ethan!" Mason roared, panting for breath. His lacerated skin had already begun to knit itself back together in places.

But the pain remained.

"I should have let them break you completely that day..." he spat, a nasty laugh bubbling in his throat.

Ethan's gaze darkened.

A memory clawed its way to the surface.

He had been young. Too young to defend himself. There were so many of them. Too many. He hadn't been able to do anything. Not even run.

Mason burst out laughing when he saw the shift in Ethan's expression.

"You remember, don't you?" he sneered, his voice dripping with cold cruelty. "I haven't forgotten a thing. Your screams..."

Ethan didn't answer.

In that moment, all those years ago, he had wanted to die.

But today, the roles were reversed.

And Mason was about to understand.

"Cut."

His voice dropped, flat and final.

The three men in the room had been waiting for that single word. They advanced without hesitation.

"Then..." Ethan added, his eyes locked on Mason's, "feed it to the beasts. And make him watch."

The raw terror that flashed in Mason's gaze was exactly what he'd wanted to see.

...

"It was her own brother..." Hanna's voice was a trembling whisper. "He was the one who beat her... with a whip."

Her eyes were raw and swollen from crying.

"Iris... her body doesn't heal like ours does. The wounds remain. They never disappear. He left marks on her back... forever."

She drew a ragged breath, trying to hold herself together.

"And her father... he would lock her away. Sometimes he kept her in the attic for days. With no food. Just because someone had seen her."

From the outside, everyone thought the Alpha was protecting his fragile daughter.

In reality, she lived like a prisoner. A slave in her own home.

Hanna clasped her hands, her posture one of desperate begging.

"I beg you, Alpha Cane... she had nothing to do with it. She suffered, too. Like you. Like your pack..."

A short, cold laugh was her only answer.

"Like me?"

Cane shook his head, a faint, dismissive motion.

"Get out."