Chapter 2. The Dungeon

As I returned to the mansion with Adam and Edward, the pack's home where our fellow pack members resided, I encountered a hostile environment.

Ruth Lane, the silver-haired woman with a heart as cold as ice, grasped my neck in a vicious hold, intent on ending my life. Ruth had always had feelings for Levine, but her desire to spend the night with him had gone unfulfilled since he had never given her the opportunity. From her perspective, I was nothing more than a threat.

"I will end you," Ruth screamed, her rage boiling over.

"Show some restraint, at least until the truth is revealed," said Adam, moving quickly to keep her at bay.

"There's nothing left to uncover when everyone already knows the truth," said Ruth, her tone mocking.

Ruth was not alone in her hatred. Other pack members glared at me with venom, their gazes like scorching arrows searing my heart. I could only avert my gaze, avoiding any type of eye contact with the gathered crowd. As the crowd gathered, Adam stepped forward, putting himself between me and the hostile crowd.

"Remain calm. This is not the way," Adam warned the group as a whole.

My husband Xavier should have been by my side, defending me, in the midst of the mayhem. He had, however, been missing for the past two days. They were all for my blood, but my spouse was nowhere to be seen. He had always sworn to protect me till the day he died, but his absence showed the brutal reality of his incapacity to defend me.

"How can you possibly take her side?" Ruth queried, her voice tinged with skepticism.

"I'm not here to pick sides. It's about giving everyone an equal opportunity to succeed. Patience is essential," calmly Adam said, unwavering in his efforts to protect me from the hungry wolves that encircled us.

"Why would she flee if she's truly innocent?" Ruth probed cruelly, her words oozing with scorn.

I raised my gaze to the window of my room as Ruth's words rang in my ears, seeing a faint shift of the curtain. His aroma lingered in the air, reminding me that my husband, Xavier, had been observing me just seconds before.

"Now that she's returned, let's put an end to these troubles," said Adam, hoping to ease tensions.

"Troubles? This despicable creature has been causing havoc since she arrived, and this time I'm not going to let her go unpunished," Ruth stated, her tone tinged with hatred.

The wolves around us became more aggressive as the environment became more hostile. Fearing for my safety, Adam ushered me into the basement, where a few poorly lit candles cast spooky shadows, affording a glimmer of safety amid the mayhem.

I knew precisely what I needed to do next, so I went to the prison cell. Adam's sad countenance indicated his concern for my well-being, and he couldn't force himself to look me in the eyes. With a heavy sigh, he bolted the door after surveying the surroundings of the dimly illuminated prison.

"Unlike outside, you'll be safe here. I'm sorry," seriously Adam said, his voice full of sadness.

I murmured, "Thank you but don't go to any trouble for me. I can't bear seeing you suffer as a result of my actions," my appreciation tinged with remorse.

"You'll be fine," Adam informed me, his voice full of optimism and encouragement. He walked away with those final words, leaving me alone in the prison cell.

The sound of droplets dropping, reverberating in the wetness of the surroundings, disturbed the silence. Every breath I took echoed in the silence, the sole audible confirmation of my presence. As I lay unmoving on the cold, hard floor, I could only see the rodents' torturous presence, which seemed to feel my vulnerability. They waited anxiously for the time when death would take me, eager to feast on my wounded carcass.

Days—three to be exact—passed. I was left in total darkness, unsure whether the moon illuminated the night sky or if the sun warmed the world. All I could smell was petrichor, indicating that rain had fallen outside my prison walls.

A surge of air came into the prison cell as the door cracked open, bearing with it a chilly, icy sensation. Slowly, I summoned the strength to shift my damaged body into a sitting position, a reaction prompted by the approaching presence.

My weak vision gradually improved as footsteps approached. She entered the dungeon, her body lighted by the faint glow of a candle. It was Amara, a close friend and pack member.

"You shouldn't be here," I rasped, my voice weak and shaky.

Amara merely remained there, her gaze fixated on me, a deep sadness in her eyes. She struggled to find the perfect words, rendering her silent for a brief while.

Curiosity mingled with concern as I enquired. "What is it that brings you here?" "What has happened to you?" she finally asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Amara composed herself in check as she assessed the extent of my injuries. In complete quiet, I looked her in the eyes, knowing the weight of her grief.

"Untreated wounds can be problematic," she said, her tone concerned.

"But I am still alive," I said, my voice low and determined.

Amara removed a piece of meat wrapped in a napkin, concealed from the prying eyes that had studied me, with a deliberate gesture. She extended it to me, a sad expression on her face.

"You will need strength," she murmured, realizing the difficult journey that lay ahead of me, one riddled with obstacles to overcome and paths to navigate alone.

She was the only presence I encountered after three days in the dungeon, a beacon of peace in an otherwise dismal realm.

I thought I would die here alone; that was the punishment I received. Little did I know, it was just a small piece of the larger picture I would witness.

As Amara offered me the piece of flesh, I grabbed it quickly and devoured it ravenously, like a tamed beast. I didn't care about choking; I devoured it with abandon. Consider yourself in my situation—how would you have reacted?

The steak vanished in an instant, satiating my nagging appetite.

"I'm sorry," said Amara, her voice breaking with anguish.

"This is my cruel fate," I said, my voice laced with resignation. "No matter where I go, it has always been the same."

Amara's heart ached when she saw the state I was in. My body was scarred, with filth entrenched beneath my nails and muck covering my feet. Despite the despair that overtook me, I put on a brave face, pretending that everything was well.

"Did they inflict any harm on you?" Amara queried, her concern palpable.

I said, "Not more than my life," my words weighed down by my experiences.

"You should never have returned here," Amara continued, her voice worried.

"Are you scared? I've heard the Oak Pack isn't afraid to dispense justice," I inquired, trying to grasp her concern.

"You have no idea how desperate they are to get rid of you. Every one of them. You are not safe in this place," said Amara, her voice urgent and concerned.

"At least I have a husband who will be the judge," I said with a glint of confidence in my voice. "He'll look after me."

Amara's silence said a lot, and I could tell she was hiding something. My curiosity pushed me to delve further. "Does Xavier also believe that I am guilty?"

"It makes no difference what he believes. He is bound by the rules as an oak. It's unprecedented for a husband to serve as a judge in his wife's trial," Amara replied, her tone somber.

As I accepted the unpredictable route that lay ahead of me, a smirk played across my lips as I whispered, "Then this trial shall become history," an air of confidence combined with a trace of rebellion.

Amara gathered her bravery and asked a question. "Do you feel afraid?"

Fear ran through my veins, but my passion for justice overpowered my fear, leaving me unsure of how to react to her question.

"Please convey to Xavier that I never intended to break his heart," I murmured, my voice shaking with anguish, because I, too, suffered profound wounds.

Then, in a weak voice, Amara addressed the lingering question, "Did you kill Levine?"

Her curiosity was similar to that of others, but there was an underlying plea for me not to judge her.

With a hopeful glint in my eye, I asked, "Would you believe me if I told you?"

Amara's determination was steadfast as she said, "I trust you implicitly."

"Why?" my voice was laced with genuine inquiry as I inquired.

"Because you are my friend," simply Amara said, her words laden with loyalty and steadfast support.

Amara, my constant companion who had been by my side through every storm, was the first true female friend I had ever known. I had never believed in the power of friendship before, but her steadfast support had shown me the value of it.

Amara slid a small knife into my pocket as the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our chat. "In case you'll need this," she leaned closer, her eyes brimming with an unsaid knowing. She then shifted her attention to two Omegas approaching us.

Why had Amara given me the small blade? The Oak Pack, after all, was known for maintaining justice and fairness. Did she have any reservations about her packmates? Shouldn't I have faith that justice will be served?

I readied myself for the momentous occasion that lay ahead of us all—the trial. The yearning for my demise appeared to have outweighed the quest for truth among the group. Uncertainty filled my mind; I had no idea what was next.

Martin and Eric, two Omegas, came at us with intent. They put on protective gloves and cuffed my wrists and ankles with silver-coated steel shackles. As the cuffs were tightened, my skin felt tingly.

Martin said as he motioned for me to go behind them. "You'll be fine as long as you don't resist." "That's easier said than done, but do what you can to protect yourself," Eric continued, his voice concerned.

Curiosity gnawed at me, so I asked, "What do you mean?"

Martin prophesied cryptically, "You'll find out soon enough," leaving me with more questions than answers.

A magnificent rainbow filled the evening sky as I emerged from the depths of the dungeon, confirming my earlier assumption about the rain. Its brilliant colors stood in stark contrast to the bleak position I was in.

Every step of that fifteen-minute trek, shackled and chained, proved to be the most difficult I'd ever done. The werewolves around me yelled and cursed at me, their hostility evident. There was no opportunity for me to express my opinion or tell my side of the tale; their minds were locked, unwilling to contemplate the possibility of my innocence.

Amid the pandemonium, some werewolves tried to hurt me, fuelled by their rage and hate. Other Omegas, however, such as Eric and Martin, built a protective barrier around me, sheltering me from the brunt of their rage.

"Stay within the circle," Martin said urgently, conscious of the perils beyond the protective barrier.

The path I took was fraught with misery and suffering, like walking through a blaze. As I hesitantly advanced towards the inevitable—my imminent doom—each step deepened the scorching ache in my heart and soul.