Chapter 2

Maeve’s POV

My body shook uncontrollably as I scanned the circle of warriors surrounding me. When my gaze finally locked with Draven’s, his granite-hard expression made my knees nearly buckle beneath me.

“What is the meaning of this?” The words barely escaped my throat as rough hands seized both my arms. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his. “I am your mate.”

Those five words hung in the air between us, dissolving like smoke against the winter of his stare. He tightened his arm around the other woman’s waist.

“This will teach you exactly how to behave in my pack,” he said, voice like ice cracking over a frozen lake. “Take her!”

The warriors dragged me through winding corridors, my heels scraping against stone floors, before throwing me into darkness. The dungeon door slammed with finality, and I crashed onto the cold, unforgiving ground.

I lay there, unable to move, the memory of his glacial eyes burned into my mind. Tears gathered and spilled before I even realized I was crying.

He hated me.

My own mate hated me.

I pressed my hands to my face, sobbing until I could barely breathe. The last time I’d felt this shattered—this raw—was at twelve, when my father tormented me for merely speaking to the servants. He’d tortured me far worse than this, yet nothing had ever hurt so much. I curled against the cold stone walls, my tears echoing in the darkness.

I don’t know when I fell asleep. I woke to an oppressive silence, the walls amplifying every heartbeat. My body ached from whatever hard, damp surface I’d been slumped on. The chill made me shiver uncontrollably, and all I could do was wait in shadow.

The heavy wooden door groaned open, and a brilliant beam of light stabbed across the floor. I flinched, raising a hand—then froze. Draven.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stared. His chest rose and fell too fast, like he’d run here. His gaze wasn’t cold. Not yet.

But when he opened his mouth, the frost returned.

He loomed above me, his glare laced with loathing and disgust. I clutched the silken folds of my dress, fighting to hold back fresh tears.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he said, his voice colder than winter’s fiercest gale and sharper than any blade. “There is only one woman in my life—Thea. You are nothing to me, Maeve Verrin. Nothing!” He spaced each word like a hammer blow, and in my head they reverberated, each echo more brutal than the last. “I have rules for this pack. You will follow them, or your time here will be unbearable. If you obey, it will be livable.”

His tone was deep and smooth, with a slight accent I would have found soothing under different circumstances. Now it felt like ice in my veins.

I stayed silent, afraid to trust my voice not to give me away. I listened like a beaten pup.

“Rule one: Speak only when spoken to. Rule two: You must not leave your chambers without my permission. Rule three: You may enter my office only when summoned and never set foot in my private quarters. Rule four: You will not leave the castle unless I allow it. And rule five: Stay away from Thea. Consider this your only warning, Maeve.” He hissed the last name with such venom I flinched at the intensity.

His voice turned to ice. “Disobey, and the punishment will make you wish you hadn’t.”

I gaped at him, my mind refusing to process his cruelty. He pivoted sharply toward the door.

“W-Why?” The word escaped me before I could stop it. “Why do you hate me? I’m your mate.” The question hung between us, desperate and raw.

He froze mid-stride, then whirled around. Before I could blink, he closed the distance between us. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my throat, pinning me against the cold stone wall.

“D-Draven—” I gasped, clawing at his wrist.

“Address me as Alpha.” His grip constricted. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as his eyes blazed molten gold in the darkness.

“Please,” I wheezed. My fingertips brushed his skin, and despite everything, electricity coursed through me at the contact. “Please, Alpha.”

A tear slid down my cheek. Something flickered across his face—hesitation?—before he released me. I crumpled to the floor, gulping air between silent sobs.

He loomed over me, expression hardening again. “You’ll remain here tonight. Consider it your first lesson.” Without another glance, he strode from the dungeon, the heavy door sealing me back into darkness.

I huddled against the cold stone, tears streaming until my eyes burned raw. The door creaked on rusted hinges—a guard’s hand thrust a plate inside before vanishing. I forced down the tasteless food, each swallow like glass in my throat. Hours stretched into eternity. When exhaustion finally claimed me, my father’s face haunted my dreams, morphing into Draven’s glacial stare until I jolted awake, heart hammering.

Light sliced through darkness as the door swung open again. A silhouette appeared—the kind-faced woman from yesterday.

“Do you remember—” she began softly.

“Elysia,” I whispered, my voice cracking from disuse.

Her lips curved slightly. “The Alpha has instructed me to escort you to your quarters.”

I rose unsteadily, following her through winding corridors in silence.

The chamber she led me to was spacious but felt like another prison when she turned the key in the lock. She studied me with sympathetic eyes.

“My lady, challenging Thea was... unwise. Didn’t he warn you about her position?”

“His lover?” The words tasted bitter. “No.”

Elysia’s gaze dropped. “Thea holds the highest place in his regard, above everyone else in the castle.”

Something twisted painfully beneath my ribs.

“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t speak so plainly. I only meant—he values her greatly.”

My throat closed completely.

Elysia bustled past me, her skirts swishing. “I’ll draw a bath for you, my lady. Then arrange for some food.”

I caught her wrist. “Thank you. And please—just Maeve.”

Her smile softened her face. “As you wish... Maeve.”

Steam curled from the lavatory when she emerged minutes later. Before she could speak, knuckles rapped against the door. A girl with glossy black hair framing heart-shaped features slipped inside, her movements graceful despite her youth.

“This is Ariannon,” Elysia said. “She’ll attend to your needs.”

The girl dipped into a curtsy. “At your service, my lady.”

“Maeve,” I corrected, my cheeks warming. “Just Maeve.”

Ariannon glanced at Elysia, who nodded slightly. “If that pleases you... Maeve.”

“Then I’ll call you Aria,” I said, attempting a smile.

“The Elders have arrived,” Aria whispered to Elysia, whose face drained of color.

My stomach knotted. The Council Elders—ancient wolves who represented our kind among the supernatural leaders of the North. The same Council that included Draven, the mate who’d just imprisoned me.

I caught Elysia’s frightened gaze, then Aria’s.

What could possibly bring the Council Elders here now?