Lila ~
The cell smells like rust and despair, a damp stone box where hope comes to die. My cropped hair sticks to my sweaty neck, my ribs aching from last night's beating, a gift from one of Zane's goons for mouthing off. I don't care. I'm Lila, and my defiance is the only thing keeping me alive in this pit. Twenty years I've been Zane's prisoner, since I was one, stolen from a life I can barely recall. But Elyse—her hazel eyes, her quiet strength—burns in my memory, a fire that keeps me fighting. She's gone now, taken from me, and it's like half my soul's been ripped out, leaving a jagged wound that bleeds with every breath.
I trace the scars on my wrist, each a mark of survival, of fights I didn't lose. Zane separated us on purpose, I know it. Elyse was my shadow, my softer half, and I was her shield. Without me, she's vulnerable, easier for Zane to break. He wants her submissive, her spirit crushed, and it makes my blood boil.
I remember the night it happened, six months ago, clear as a blade. A guard, some greasy-haired creep named Vark, grabbed Elyse backstage, his hands wandering where they had no right. She froze, her eyes wide with panic, and I snapped. I lunged, slamming my fist into his jaw, my nails raking his face until blood welled. "Touch her again, and I'll gut you," I snarled, shoving him to the ground. He scrambled away, whimpering like a defeated wolf cub, his pride as bruised as his face. The other girls stared, half in awe, half in fear. Zane saw it all, his gray eyes cold.
The next day, he dragged Elyse to another club, splitting us to punish me and weaken her. I screamed her name until my voice gave out, but she was gone.
Zane knows I'm trouble. Most of the girls here get picked nightly, their fear making them pliable for the clients—men with coins and cruel hands. Not me. My defiance scares off the lighter-bodied ones, the wiry rogues who flinch when I glare. They know I'd overpower them, snap their egos like twigs. So Zane pairs me with the big ones, the bulky, powerful customers who think they can break me. They don't. I fight, I bite, I endure, but it means I'm seldom chosen, left to rot in this cell more often than the others. It's a small victory, but it's mine.
I pace the cell, my bare feet slapping the cold stone, counting the guards' steps outside—one, two, three—like a rhythm to my rebellion. The new keeper, Joren, is different. His green eyes don't leer; they linger, soft, like he sees a person, not a prize. Yesterday, he slipped me an extra bread roll, his calloused fingers brushing mine. "Eat, Lila," he whispered, and I did, because starving won't get me to Elyse. His kindness is a crack in this darkness, but trust is a luxury I can't afford. Not yet.
The lock clanks, and I tense, ready for another of Zane's "clients." My heart pounds, memories of rough hands and cruel laughs clawing at my mind. I've fought them off, earned bruises and scars, but I'm still here, still me.
The door creaks open, and it's Joren, his dark blonde hair tied back, his expression tight with urgency. He glances down the corridor, then steps inside, his voice low. "You're not working tonight. Zane's distracted. There was a break-in at one of his clubs."
My breath catches, hope sparking like a match in the dark. "Elyse?" I grab his arm, my nails digging in, desperation overriding caution. "Is it her? Is she alive?"
Joren flinches but doesn't pull away, his green eyes searching mine. "Heard a rumor," he says, barely a whisper. "Some alpha took a girl from a club last night. Big guy, lycan, tore through four of Rico's crew like they were paper. Sound like your sister?"
Relief floods me, sharp and painful, like a blade pulled from a wound. Elyse is alive. I want to scream, to cry, but I force my voice steady, my grip tightening. "Where is she, Joren? Tell me now."
He hesitates, his jaw clenching. "I don't know yet, Lila. Zane's got spies everywhere, and I'm risking my neck just talking to you. But I'll find out. Stay low, please."
"Stay low?" I scoff, my smirk masking the fear clawing my chest. "Zane's face looks like he bit a lemon and it bit back. I'm not hiding from him."
Joren snorts, a quick burst of laughter that cuts through the gloom like a sunbeam. "You're gonna get us both killed," he says, but there's warmth in it, like he's half-impressed. "Look, I'm no hero, okay? I just… I hate seeing you in here. Also, I'm terrible at sneaking, so if we get caught, you're explaining it to Zane."
I raise a brow, my lips twitching despite myself. "You? Sneaking? You clomp around like a drunk bear in boots. Good luck with that."
He chuckles, shaking his head, and for a moment, the cell feels less like a grave.
"Fair point," he says, stepping back. "Just… don't do anything stupid, Lila. I'll get you answers."
"No promises," I say, leaning against the wall, my heart racing with hope. Elyse is out there, free, maybe waiting for me. Joren's my chance, my lifeline, and I'll play him like a fiddle if I have to. He's not like the others—there's a spark in him, something honest. I need that, need him, to get out of this hell.
The cell door clanks again, and I freeze, my pulse spiking. It's not Joren this time—it's Zane, his tailored suit crisp, his gray eyes cold as winter steel.
My smirk returns, hiding the tremor in my hands. "Back so soon?" I taunt, sitting up straighter. "Miss my charming personality?"
Zane's lips twitch, not quite a smile, but there's a flicker in his eyes—hesitation, maybe regret. "Careful, Lila," he says, his voice smooth but sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. "Your mouth's gonna bury you."
"Already buried," I shoot back, my eyes locked on his. "What's got you so twitchy, Zane? Someone hit your precious club? Bet it was a mess."
His jaw tightens, and for a split second, I think he'll strike me. Instead, he steps closer, his shadow swallowing the dim torchlight.
"You look like her," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze distant. "Those eyes… like hers."
I frown, my bravado faltering. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He blinks, shaking his head like he's snapping out of a dream. "Nothing," he snaps, his mask slamming back into place. "Keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you." He turns, stalking out, the door slamming with a clang that echoes in my bones.
His words linger—those eyes—and they stir something deep, a memory I can't grasp. Our mother, maybe, her face a blur of warmth and laughter, gone before I could hold it.
I pace the cell, my bare feet slapping the stone, my mind racing. Zane's unraveling, his hesitation a crack I can pry open. Joren's my ticket out, but I need to be smart, need to keep pushing. Elyse is alive, and that's a spark I'll fan into a blaze. I've always been her defender, her fire, and I'll tear this place apart to find her.
I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and whisper her name like a vow. "Hold on, Elyse. I'm coming."