A searing, jagged agony ripped through me as I tumbled down the stone steps. The world became a chaotic blur of pain and mocking laughter, even as my life felt like it was hanging by a thread. I clawed at the air, desperate to see who had delivered the blow, but my vision was failing. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was the pale, ghostly face of John, Dante's Beta.
When I finally drifted back to consciousness, the sterile scent of the pack hospital filled my lungs. John and a doctor were standing over me, their voices hushed. It seemed I had fainted from the sheer terror of the fall.
John moved closer, sitting on the edge of my bed, a strange, intimate gesture from a man who usually kept a cold distance whenever I was around Dante.
"Do you remember what happened on the stairs?" He asked, his eyes searching mine.
I reached up to touch my face, wincing as my fingers grazed a deep, stinging gash on my left cheek. "I don't know who pushed me," I whispered, the helplessness of my situation crashing down on me. In that state of shock, the identity of my attacker was a blur of shadows.
"It's alright. Take your time," he urged.
A new, desperate resolve took root in my chest. I couldn't keep enduring this. I wouldn't wait for them to finally succeed in killing me.
"John... help me," I rasped, catching him off guard. "Give me enough money to leave the pack. Please."
Shock flickered across his face. He looked at me as if I had asked him to commit treason. "Does Dante know you are asking this?"
"He won't let me go, and I can't survive this humiliation anymore," I pleaded, my voice cracking. "I just want to move on. I want a life."
"You know Dante," John said, his voice dropping to a low, urgent warning. "He will kill anyone who dares help you to escape. Just... give him time to resolve his issues."
His words felt like a riddle. Why did everyone speak as if they were reading from a script I didn't have? They insisted he needed me, yet he treated me with nothing but venom. My handmaiden had said something similar days ago.
"If you were in my shoes, would you stay?" I shouted, the pain finally boiling over. "He treats me like garbage! If he hates me so much, why won't he just let me go?"
"He treats you that way because he can't forget his past. He can't move on," John revealed.
I froze. "What past? What could possibly justify this?"
I didn't want to believe him. No "past" could excuse the way a man was supposed to treat his fated mate. But John didn't elaborate.
"Have a good night, Clarissa," he said, ignoring my question and slipping out of the room, leaving me to drown in my own thoughts.
The walk back to the Omega quarters was a gauntlet of daggers. The stares I received weren't just cold, they were furious. Had pushing me down the stairs not been enough for them?
"I can't believe John did that for her," an Omega hissed as I passed.
My heart sank. What had John done? I felt a wave of regret wash over me. Had my plea for help landed him in trouble? Or had he done something else?
"She probably slept with him to get his protection," someone mocked, their laughter echoing in the hall.
Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and uncontrollable. I wasn't just a fallen Luna anymore. I was a disgrace, a "traitor," and a woman whose reputation was being shredded by the very people I was supposed to lead.
First, I was a liar. Then, a poisoner. Now, they were going to brand me an unfaithful mate? The rumors were spreading like a virus, and I knew I had to run tonight before the pack's hatred turned lethal. If John wouldn't give me the money, I would break into Dante's study and steal it myself. I didn't care about the consequences anymore. I just wanted to live.
I was hurrying toward my cubicle when a furious mob intercepted me.
"Are you Clarissa?" A woman at the front demanded.
"Ye… yes," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. I braced myself, expecting to be cast out of the pack right then and there.
"Take her to the dungeon," the woman ordered, gesturing to the two pack warriors flanking her.
I stumbled back, my hands raised in a useless defense. "What have I done now?" I cried. A cold dread washed over me. If I get locked in the dungeon, my escape plan would fail. Was this Dante's doing? Had he finally decided to break me completely?
"You contaminated the well," the leader spat. "Half the Omegas in your quarters are falling ill because of your spite."
"What?" I gasped.
Before I could protest, the warriors seized my arms. They dragged me toward the darkness of the lower levels. I didn't even fight them. I was numb. My sister wasn't just trying to replace me anymore, she was trying to erase me.
For three agonizing days, I rotted in a damp cell. I survived on nothing but a few sips of stale water. My body began to fail. I was wracked by bouts of uncontrollable vomiting that left me shaking on the cold stone floor. I told myself it was the stress and the hunger, but a small, terrified part of me wondered if I had been poisoned too.
Just as the darkness began to close in for good, a figure appeared at the bars. Through the haze of my fever, I saw John.
"I will get you out," he whispered. That was the last thing I heard before the world slipped away.
Clarissa's POV
I woke up back in the pack hospital, but the relief was short-lived. I had expected cruelty from the pack, but Dante's total indifference was the sharpest blade of all. He was letting them starve me. He was letting them break me. I realized then that if I stayed, I wouldn't just be a servant, I would be a living corpse.
I couldn't wait for John anymore. He was kind, but he was a Beta. He couldn't defy his Alpha forever, and I wouldn't let him go down with me.
Taking advantage of the quiet hour before dawn, I slipped out of my hospital bed. My legs were weak, but adrenaline carried me. I didn't grab a bag or any supplies. I just ran toward the pack's southern border. Begging on the streets of a human city was a dream compared to the torture of the Blood Moon pack.
The woods were silent, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. I was so close. The border was just beyond the treeline.
But then, a chilling sensation crawled up my spine, the unmistakable feeling of being hunted. I spun around, my foot catching on a protruding root. I hit the ground with a shriek of pain, my breath hitching as I scrambled to prop myself against a thick oak tree.
The snapping of a twig echoed through the clearing. A shadow detached itself from the trees, tall and imposing.
"Clarissa."