Wolves of Betrayal

Chapter : 32. The darkest night..

The dungeon was cold and damp, with walls that seemed to close in on Amara from all sides. The darkness around her was suffocating, the only light coming from a single, dim torch flickering in the corner. She could hear the distant sounds of the Blood Moon Pack’s territory—the occasional rustle of leaves, the distant howl of a wolf—but down here, it was as if she were in another world. A world of shadows and despair.

Amara sat huddled in the corner of the small, filthy cell, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her body trembled uncontrollably, both from the cold and from the remnants of her earlier panic attack. She could still feel the sharp edge of fear clawing at her insides, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to steady herself.

Her mind was a whirlwind of pain and betrayal. Darius’s face flashed in her mind—the way he had looked at her with helplessness, the way he had let Killian take her. He promised me… he promised to protect me. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She had trusted him, had started to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could have a future with him. But he had chosen his pack over her.

How could he do this to me?

As the night wore on, Amara’s sense of time began to blur. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there in the darkness, her thoughts a haze of fear and anger. All she knew was that she was trapped—trapped in this hell, trapped in her memories, and trapped by the man who had vowed to make her pay.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Her body tensed, her heart lurching with a mix of dread and anticipation. She knew who it was before she even saw him. The heavy, purposeful steps, the way they sent a cold shiver down her spine—it could only be Killian.

He appeared in the doorway, his face twisted into a cruel smile as he stepped into the dim light. His eyes glinted with a sadistic pleasure as he looked down at her, and Amara’s blood ran cold. She tried to scoot back against the wall, her body trembling with a fear she couldn’t suppress.

“Welcome back to hell, Amara,” Killian said, his voice low and taunting. “Did you miss me?”

Amara didn’t answer. She couldn’t find her voice. She just stared at him, her eyes wide with terror, her breath quickening. She knew what was coming. She had been here before. She knew his games, knew the way he liked to break her down piece by piece.

Killian’s smile widened as he crouched down in front of her, his eyes boring into hers. “What’s the matter? No more begging? No more tears? You’ve been surprisingly quiet tonight.”

Amara pressed herself back against the cold, damp wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, but her body betrayed her. She couldn’t stop the trembling, couldn’t stop the way her breath hitched in her throat.

Killian’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold, calculated anger. “Fine,” he said softly, his voice like ice. “If you won’t beg, then maybe I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge here.”

And then he struck. His fist connected with her ribs, a brutal, crushing blow that sent a shockwave of pain through her body. Amara cried out, her body folding in on itself as she clutched her side, the agony searing through her like fire.

“Remember this?” Killian sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. “This is what happens when you defy me, Amara. This is what happens when you think you can escape me.”

He punched her again, this time in the face, and her head snapped back against the wall. Stars exploded in her vision, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She tried to curl up to protect herself, but he grabbed her by the collar, lifting her slightly off the ground, and slammed her back against the wall.

“I’m going to make you regret ever leaving,” he snarled, his face inches from hers. “I’m going to make you beg for death.”

Amara’s vision blurred with tears and pain, her body going limp in his grasp. She was too weak to fight back, too broken to resist. She could only endure it, only remember the broken promises and betrayal that had led her here.

Darius… she thought, her heart aching. Why didn’t you save me?

Killian continued his assault, each blow more brutal than the last. Amara could feel her body giving out, her mind sinking deeper into the dark abyss of despair. She wanted to disappear, to close her eyes and never wake up again. She wanted the pain to end.

But then, something inside her stirred. A spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time. As Killian’s laughter filled the room, something deep within her snapped awake—a voice, a whisper, telling her that she needed to fight. That she couldn’t let him take everything from her. Not her dignity. Not her spirit.

No. The word formed in her mind, a small but fierce spark in the darkness. I won’t let him break me again.

As Killian’s hand moved to his belt, his cruel smile widening, Amara felt that spark ignite into a flame. She had to fight. She had to do something. She couldn’t let him do this to her. She wouldn’t let him.

With a surge of adrenaline, she remembered the defense techniques Darius had taught her. She had practiced them under his patient guidance, never imagining she’d need them in a place like this. But now they were all she had—her only weapon, her only hope.

As Killian moved closer, she kicked out with all the strength she had left, aiming for his knee. Her foot connected, and he stumbled back, surprised by the sudden resistance. His face twisted with anger.

“You little—” he began, but she didn’t give him time to finish. She pushed herself up, forcing her trembling body to stand, and took a defensive stance.

Killian’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling in a snarl. “You think you can fight me?” he spat, his voice filled with rage. “You think you can stop me?”

Amara didn’t answer. She didn’t have the energy to waste on words. She had to focus, had to remember what Darius had taught her. Keep your balance, watch your opponent’s movements, strike when you see an opening.

Killian lunged at her, his hand reaching for her throat, but she sidestepped him, driving her elbow into his side. He grunted in pain, staggering back, and she knew she’d landed a good hit. But he recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with fury.

“You’ll pay for that,” he growled, and then he came at her again, his movements faster and more vicious.

Amara ducked under his swing, but his fist caught her shoulder, sending a shock of pain through her body. She stumbled, her legs shaking, but she managed to keep her footing. She couldn’t afford to go down. Not now.

They circled each other in the dim light, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Killian was bigger, stronger, but Amara had desperation on her side. She had nothing left to lose, and that made her dangerous.

He attacked again, and she blocked his blow, countering with a quick jab to his ribs. Her strikes weren’t as powerful as his, but they were precise, each one fueled by a determination she hadn’t known she possessed.

But she was tiring. Every muscle in her body burned with exhaustion, her limbs heavy and slow. She knew she couldn’t keep this up for much longer. She could feel herself starting to fade, her vision blurring at the edges.

Killian must have sensed it too, because he grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “You’re slowing down,” he taunted. “You can’t keep this up forever.”

Amara’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t let him win. Not again.

He lunged at her, and she tried to dodge, but she wasn’t fast enough. His fist caught her in the side, and she cried out as pain exploded through her ribs. She stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her, and she fell to the ground, her body screaming in protest.

She tried to get up, but her vision was swimming, her strength fading fast. She could hear Killian’s laughter, cruel and mocking, echoing through the dungeon.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “You tried, but you’re still just a weak little omega.”

Amara’s head spun, and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness. She was so tired, so beaten down. She wanted to close her eyes, to let the darkness take her.

But then, just as she was about to give in, she heard it—a sound that cut through the fog of pain and despair like a beacon. A howl. Strong and commanding. A call to war.