"Girl. Hey, girl."

My eyes flutter open, and I lift my head, a sharp pain immediately throbbing at the back of my neck.

The cold stone floor is utterly uncomfortable.

"Mgh! Girl!"

I turn toward the man in the adjoining cell. "What?" I snap.

The dungeon is still dim, but faint light filters through the small barred windows high on the walls. I can tell morning has arrived.

The man who lay unconscious the previous day is now sitting with his back to the wall, facing straight toward me. His intense, scrutinizing gaze makes me uneasy.

The other man who called out to me grins. Now that I can see him more clearly, I notice hints of blond hair peeking through the grime, paired with warm brown eyes. He has a surprisingly pleasant smile despite his ragged appearance.

The man staring steadily at me has dark hair, yet what stands out most are his striking marble-green eyes, which glow softly in the sparse light.

Deep scars cover both men’s bodies — the kind left by torture and silver weapons. Silver inflicts permanent marks on our kind, and it is clear the green-eyed man endured the worst of it. A long scar cuts across his cheek, and another runs above one eye, though his vision remains unharmed. The two men in the cell across from them bear similar injuries. All four appear to be in their twenties, older than I am.

I turn my gaze away from the smiling man.

"Oh come on. We don’t bite," he says.

I fight the urge to glance back.

"Well, maybe a little." He chuckles. "Hey, you got any idea how to get out of here?"

I finally look over at him, my brows furrowing as I squint.

"That a no? Or you just don’t wanna tell us? We’re harmless, I promise." He holds up one hand, still smiling.

For men locked away, likely facing torture and death, he is far too cheerful. In fact, none of the four seem the least bit worried.

The two men in the opposite cell laugh, but the green-eyed man remains silent and stoic, never taking his eyes off me.

The talkative stranger keeps the conversation going. "I’m Dash, by the way. Nice hair you’ve got. Curly hair really suits you."

I can’t help but feel a flicker of flattery. No one has ever complimented me, not that I can recall.

"What’s your name?" he asks.

I look away and stay quiet.

"Alright, Curls it is then."

My head snaps toward him. I open my mouth to protest, but when my eyes land on the green-eyed man, I clamp my lips shut. He unnerves me, yet I cannot deny a strange curiosity toward him.

Suddenly, we hear the distant creak of the dungeon door opening. Footsteps echo down the long hallway.

A guard steps into view carrying a lantern. He walks past each cell, counting aloud.

"Three… five… six." He stops at my cell. "Come on. Bathroom break."

I glance at the filthy latrine in the corner of my cell.

"Unless you’d rather use that out in front of everyone?" he says.

"No. I’m coming." I stand as he unlocks the cell door and follow him down the hall. An open doorway leads to a small, grim restroom. I step inside while the guard stands outside with his back turned. "Hurry up. I’m only doing this because James asked a favor."

I feel a surge of gratitude toward James.

I hate having the guard standing so close, but it is better than being watched by the other prisoners. The thought crosses my mind that Niles sometimes patrols the dungeon. If he were on duty today, I would never dare leave my cell.

I finish quickly, and the guard leads me back.

"I’ll only bring you out each morning. You’ll have to hold it the rest of the day or use the latrine," he says, nodding toward the corner.

I’d rather hold it for hours.

"Hey, do we get the same royal treatment?" Dash calls out.

The guard glares at him. I can tell he would have thrown a punch if the cell bars were not between them.

"Figured as much," Dash mutters once the guard turns and leaves.

"That big mouth of yours is gonna land you in serious trouble," one of the other men warns.

I stare down the empty hallway. No one else comes near us for the rest of the day.

"They’re gonna starve us out," a man from the far cell grumbles.

"Quiet, Quinn," Dash snaps.

Night falls, and still no one brings food or water.

"He’s not wrong," the rogue prisoner speaks up. "This is their way. They starve you until you’re half-dead. Then they torture you, and when they’re done, they drag you upstairs to put you on display."

My stomach twists with hunger. My throat burns from thirst. Even so, Dash does not stop trying to talk to me.

"So you gonna tell me what landed you in here, Curls?" he presses.

I sigh, growing tired of his endless chatter. Maybe answering will make him leave me alone.

"I punched the Alpha’s daughter," I mumble.

I would have been punished regardless, but I know my harsh words are what truly angered the Luna.

Dash bursts into laughter. "No way. You’ve got some guts."

I sigh again and lie down on the cold floor, closing my eyes. Exhaustion, hunger and weakness weigh heavily on me. Dash and the others continue talking until one by one, they drift off to sleep.

I wake the next morning with a splitting headache and heavy eyes. The day drags by slowly. Dash lies on his side with an arm draped over his face, resting quietly. The green-eyed man sits in the same spot as always, watching me intently. I lift my head toward the faint light from the windows and try to sit up, but dizziness washes over me.

"Lie back down," a deep, husky voice says. It takes me a moment to realize the green-eyed man has spoken.

I stare at him in confusion.

"You’re smaller than the rest of us. You need to conserve every bit of strength you have."

I glance over at Dash, who has clearly worn himself out from constant talking. I now understand why the green-eyed man has stayed quiet and still all this time.

I obey and lie back. When I open my eyes next, night has fallen once more. Everyone else appears to be asleep, until a sharp, stabbing pain pierces my chest. I whimper and quickly cover my mouth to muffle the sound. My hands tremble, and though I am far too weak to hide my distress completely, I do my best.

I hear faint movement nearby and sense the green-eyed man’s gaze on me. I twist onto my side, turning my back to him, and fight through the agony.

I hate Ezra. I hate him with every part of me.

When I first learned he was my fated mate, I felt scared and angry, but also a flicker of hope. I’d let the bond run its course, foolishly believing things might change. After endless pain and humiliation, that hope is gone, replaced only by hatred.

Eventually, the pain fades. I close my eyes again, and sleep pulls me under so deeply I struggle to rouse even when morning light spills through the windows. It takes all my strength to lift my eyelids.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" Dash asks, his voice weak. He lies on the floor, looking toward me.

I feel far worse than the day before, and I know Ezra’s cruelty is to blame. I try to reply, but my throat is too dry and my body too drained. I simply let my eyes fall shut once more.

How long have I been trapped here? A cold fear settles over me. Maybe the Luna really will leave me to rot down here forever.

Suddenly, loud shouting echoes through the dungeon. I hear the green-eyed man’s voice rise, followed by Dash’s shouts, but I cannot make out their words. Then silence falls.

A bright light suddenly shines down on me, stinging my eyes.

"Cassiopea?"

A woman calls my name.

I force my eyes open, the heaviness easing slightly. I look around and realize I am in the pack infirmary. The woman speaking to me is the pack doctor.

"There you are," Dr. Turner says, relief clear on her face.

Lauren and James stand beside my bed.

"W… wa…"

"Water?" Dr. Turner asks.

I nod weakly.

"You definitely need fluids. You’re already receiving IV treatment, so we’ll have you rehydrated soon enough."

Lauren sits down beside me and holds out a glass of water, helping me drink.

James sighs heavily. "Withholding food and water is how they weaken prisoners before interrogations. It breaks their strength so they can’t fight back against the bars. Those idiots did the same to you, never stopping to think you’re far smaller and weaker than most werewolves locked in those cells." I have no doubt the Luna knew exactly what was happening.

"If those prisoners hadn’t made a fuss, you would have died down there," he explains when he sees my confused look. "They shouted for the guards nonstop until someone finally came to check on the commotion."

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. They risked punishment to save me, a member of the pack they are meant to consider an enemy.

After drinking a full glass of water, I find enough strength to speak.

"Can… I go home… now?"

Lauren closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"You need to rest here for a few days first. But after that…" She pauses and lets out a weary sigh. "The Luna says your punishment isn’t over. You have to stay in the dungeon for one full month."

My eyes widen in shock, but she hurries to continue. "You’ll be given regular meals and water from now on. Part of your punishment is to clean the cells and tend to the prisoners."

"It’s absurd, but she claims seeing what happens to rule-breakers will teach you a lesson," James adds.

"At least you won’t be getting whipped anymore," Lauren says, trying to find a bright side. Truth be told, I do not mind returning to the dungeon now that I will not be starved.

A sudden thought crosses my mind. "Did… they feed the prisoners?"

I cannot help but worry about them.

James looks confused by my concern but answers honestly. "I believe so. They usually deny prisoners food and water for three days straight."

A small wave of relief washes over me. I truly hope it is the truth.

Over the next two days, my thoughts keep drifting back to the men in the cells. I know they are our enemies, yet I feel sorry for them. They saved my life, after all. People capable of such kindness cannot be entirely evil. Or perhaps I am just naive.

Two days later, I have fully recovered. As soon as the Luna is informed, I am escorted back to the dungeon. I glance around at the prisoners and see they are all still alive. The two men in the cell across from Dash bear fresh, newly healing wounds, looking even more beaten than before.

"Well well. Look who’s back. How you doing, Curls?"

This time, I cannot hold back a shy smile before I look away. My gaze lands on the green-eyed man once more. Now that I can see him more clearly, I notice there is something undeniably striking about him.