The Last Pack

10. SAVING ISELDA

Although cleaning, cooking and serving food to the gladiators was demanding, Fidella was overjoyed to do all these hard jobs, if it meant she could be closer to Conri. Between them, they found covert ways to steal brief touches. The collection of domestic toil was more than bearable in payment for her mate’s thumb gliding across her bare wrist, hands covering each other’s, hidden by cloths and bowls that passed between them, his breath on the back of her neck as he leaned over her for some unnecessary item. The simple was made sensually sublime, even if they were spies in their own love story. One night, Conri described himself as cursed to watch her from afar, but blessed as he was happy to do it rather than never know her at all. Fidella knew that if they were free they would probably have marked each other by now, but that was another time and another life. She would never have shared this with Conri as she didn’t want him to feel self-conscious about the things he didn’t know. She would never hurt him.

In the morning, Fidella was walking from bench to bench refilling the warrior’s cups when suddenly her wolf, Isla, was trying to take over. She lifted her nose into the air and discreetly inhaled, instantly recognising the identifying scents. One was the floral sweet-pea scent of Iselda, and the other was the copper metallic stench of Leighton, the slaver.

Ewan opened the cage door, coming through to have some breakfast, followed by Leighton and a nervous-looking Iselda. Remembering her promise to her friend, she put the jug down on the table and kept a watchful eye on the repugnant human. Iselda’s face already looked blotchy, as if she had been crying. Fidella noticed the tight grip he had around her wrist as Iselda tried to pull away from the pain. Leighton tugged her wrist and Iselda jerked forward, landing on her knee with a loud smack on the floor, catching the attention of all in the room as they watched Iselda brush away an escaped tear with her free hand. Forcefully, grabbing Iselda’s hair, Leighton pulled her head back until they were nose to nose. Fidella recalled what Iselda had said about his stench in the scraps of information she had managed to get from her since the first incident. Leighton placed his left foot on the bench nearest to her shoulder so that his crotch was aligned with her chest as he trapped her with his body.

“I was going to wait until we were alone, but since you’re so desperate to disappoint me that you can’t even stand, make your choice now. Stop the crying or feel the crop?” Leighton leered gleefully.

Fidella knew her eyes must be black at this point, so she closed them as she tried to wrestle control from Isla. It all became clear how the bruises and welts had been caused. The crop. There wasn’t a choice at all really, everyone knew that the crop was inevitable. It was expected to be disciplined by Leighton in such a way.

“He has our friend, our pack member, we promised her our protection, and we should kill him now!” Isla snarled.

“We can’t kill him, Isla, but if you calm down we can help her,” Fidella pacified her wolf as she felt her step backwards in her mind.

Assertively, approaching Iselda, she managed to pull her from Leighton’s grip, not acknowledging him at all, she pulled Iselda three tables away, and wrapped her arms around her friend as she sobbed helplessly. Whilst gently holding her friend, Fidella’s palm made gentle strokes over Iselda’s back and she could feel the ridges of swollen, pink skin under her finger tips. Conri and Ewan had both manoeuvred themselves between Leighton and the girls, worried about the consequences, but unable to let either of them come to harm. Leighton had already left to complain to the Dominus.

“What happened to you, Iselda?” Isla growled, having completely taken control when she saw the painful stripe, overcoming the influences of the silver bangle with pure wrath.

“Leighton did it, he said I was a disappointment last time, too brave, and that I looked him in the eye, but I swear I didn’t,” Cried Iselda.

Given the palpable rage that was projecting from Fidella, in hindsight it wasn’t the best time to interject, however it was clear to all that she had lost control of her wolf. Ewan was worried that her rage would lead her to give up her secret. Advancing towards her with trepidation, Ewan made his voice as soft as possible.

“Fidella, I need to take the girl back to the Heatons. They will have the final say,” With each word Ewan inched closer to her.

“I am Isla, Fidella’s wolf and Iselda will stay with me.” Isla emphasised Iselda’s name, she was a woman, a person, and she would make them all see that.

“I’ll take care of Iselda, I’ll keep her safe, but you must give her to me before the Heatons come looking for her,” Ewan tried to use logic, but Isla was acting on pure intuition, and his mollifications made her more furious than before.

“Wolves like me, do not take commands from the likes of you, little wolf. Stay where you are. When was the last time any of you helped her? How many of you have ever asked if she was OK?” Isla roared to all the gladiators, while staring at Ewan, who had only recently promised she would receive no suffering from their hands. A wave of shame paralysed all who stood watching the exchange.

Ewan’s limbs felt heavy and uncooperative as he fought against her command to stay still, and laboriously he shuffled closer to Isla. The roar that followed was loud and deep, all the other wolves bared their necks looking at the floor apart from Conri. Ewan stopped moving, but unfortunately, the gate banged open and the Dominus stood there defended by guards, smirking at Fidella.

“Well, it seems you tricked us, she-wolf. You must be at least eighteen with a roar like that. Come to me she-wolf,” Ordered Dominus Heaton.

Isla stared into his eyes, sneering at his command, as he had sneered at Fidella all those weeks ago on the balcony.

“Isla, you need to give back control. We can’t help Iselda if he sends us to the mines or kills us with silver,” Fidella interrupted Isla’s powerful defiance.

Isla’s pride made it difficult for her to relinquish control, but Fidella was right, humans could punish all the wolves here for her insubordination and she didn’t want that.

“It’s OK, Isla. Let Fidella come back. I will look after her, I will look after them all,” Conri mind linked her, and watched as her black eyes returned to cornflower blue.

Fidella felt relief when Isla stepped back, but also because Conri had made a promise that was for the benefit of all, his first step towards being an Alpha. She walked towards the Dominus with her head towards the ground awaiting her punishment.

“You lied to your Dominus. Because of this, you will become a pleasure slave. We will see your truth as you are stripped bare. I know exactly how to punish you,” The Dominus stepped closer, brushing his finger tips on her temple and tucking a stray section of hair behind her ear. Slowly stroking the back of her ear before sandwiching her lobe between his thumb and index finger. Tightening his hold, he pulled down, so her head tilted to the left. Bringing his lips to her right ear, he whispered,

“My gladiators can have you, use you, and with any luck they will ruin you and kill your rebellious nature,” he laughed insidiously.

Thinking she was shaking in fear of his decision, his laughter increased. Little did he know it was the revulsion of being so close to him that made her tremble with anger.

“See how easy it is to break a wolf,” he boasted to Leighton.

Even Leighton couldn’t help but recognise the foolishness in the statement. A wolf that could fight back like this she-wolf, despite wearing a silver bangle, was not so easily subdued.

“Conri, what is wrong with you? You’ve not stopped growling,” Enquired the Dominus.

“Nothing master, just eager to start the training,” Conri replied.

Fidella had never felt such disappointment. The idea of someone touching or hurting Iselda against her will had almost had her sent to the mines. Her soulmate had just heard how all these wolves would have the chance to enjoy her body and he managed to pass it off as being irritated by late training. Did she mean so little to him, that he didn’t react to the thought of her being used in such a way?