Chapter 2

Chloe's POV

"Who the fuck is that?" Marcus thunders and I bet that whoever it is, shivers from the intensity of the voice.

"It is I, Mila," a small voice says from the other side of the door. A minute of silence passes by before a slave girl appears—more like pokes her head inside the room, visibly shaking.

“The beta, sir Mark asked for you. He says it is very urgent ” She announces breathlessly, her voice wavering and her eyes darting to me once. I see the pity in her eyes for me. We aren't exactly close but we aren't enemies either. A tiny tear escapes her eyes as she regards me but she quickly wipes it off before any of the monsters could see it.

Lucky you!

Personally, I think that the sight of me looking all battered and bloody, and the sight of the pack heads standing in front of me with all the blood too is enough to make her lose consciousness for a while or cry her eyes out for me. Any creature with a conscience will bawl their eyes out just at the mere sight of me.

“Get out,” Marcus shouts at the slave girl, Mila, and with a high-pitched scream, she runoff.

Smart choice.

“We are going to come back for you and then afterward, we will have a lot of fun together, breaking your bones and your somehow seemingly strengthened resolve,” Marcus says and turns to Micah and Diana, signaling them to come with him. Diana grabs a fistful of my hair and gives it a rough tug before she finally walks out.

“Two more kicks for old time’s sake?” She asks Marcus, looking at him. An onlooker will think that they are talking about something emotional or something like that, but I know what is going to come.

Marcus nods and I shut my eyes. “For old time’s sake,” Marcus says with a psychopath-like grin.

I shrink my body in readiness for the harsh impact but the hits do not come. I count to ten times and again yet nothing.

I open my eyes, one at a time, and make the mistake of opening my eyes. The duo reach for me immediately I do so, punching my arms so hard that I could have sworn that I have dislocated my shoulder. And then they give me two more kicks for good measure.

Stupid mind games.

“You should feel honoured that we spend a lot of time with you, brat.” Diana laughs a pretty one which disgusted me because the only thing that is pretty about her is her peanut-sized brains.

“These Omegas can be so ungrateful most times, Zeta. After giving you a place to stay after the rampage that cost your Bloodline, you dare pull a hard one on us? The hands that feed you?....Really?.” Micah asks before they all finally match out.

I stay, lying down on the floor with my arms still handcuffed at my back. It is the most uncomfortable position, but at least the cold floor feels a bit better as my wounds press against it, absorbing the coolness. It stings and hurts a bit but that's the summary of my life. Nothing new.

I wonder if Lilly is alive or if true to their words, they had killed her. My instinct says she is still alive and so does winter star, my wolf. Another perk of being a white wolf is the accuracy of our instinct and wolf instinct.

Even with my instinct, I only hope my best friend since I was in the diaper is alive. the leaders of the dark wood park are notorious, it will not exactly come as a shock if they kill her without me knowing. Especially since she's in silver cuffs.

Normally, she should be able to heal faster than usual, but then, with the silver on her, her quick healing will be weakened to a dangerously low level, or even stop until a few days after the silver is removed. Even worse, with her open-cut injuries, it might kill her.

Moments later, I have no idea how much time has passed—maybe minutes, or even hours, but two guards come in with binds and knives.

“We have been asked to take you to your new room.” One of them tells me, and I know that I'm about to be tortured by Marcus and his heartless group of friends once again.

“Please.” I rasp out, still on the floor. The air reeks of dried blood and sweat.

The guards pay no attention to me as they forcefully tug my cuffs and drag me away, after binding my wrist with the rope they came with.

They drag me through a series of empty cells to an empty room, devoid of anything but a small metal cage in a corner, wide open.

They had a dog?

Soon after, Marcus, Rogers, Damon, Micah, and Diana stroll in and shut the door behind them.

Micah weaves a whip with seven tails at the end, and in Diana's hand, is the knife the guards had held earlier.

“Here doggy. Come and play.” Diana whistles as her eyes shine with mischief and she moves the knife around in the air. Micah, on the other hand, walks toward me with the whip in his hands, and a skanky smirk plastered on his face. My legs are throbbing, but it seems that the adrenaline has fuelled my body just fine. I run around the cell room, looking for an escape route but there is no opening. Diana jogs after me, chasing me with a wide smile on my face, but even with my wounds, I don't give up. I'm so occupied with running away from Diana, that I did not notice that the rest of the squadron is in the room with us. Then suddenly, Micah grabs me by my arm and with the knife, tears a straight line into my already battered skin.

With a scream, I run out of his grip and limp over to the place where no one is at. Then I see the open cage and run into it. Their laughter fills the air and somehow increases the pain shooting through my body.

“We expected you to do that.” Diana chuckles and locks the cage. Marcus suddenly stands up from his chair and walks toward me. Damon brings out a small bottle from his pocket, uncorks it, and hands it to Marcus. Marcus in turn collects it and skips over to my cage. I try to move back but the space is limited. The metal clings to my open wound and I scream from the impact. Attempting to get myself farther from the metal, has my head slamming against the front mast of the cage.

Fucking mind games. Again.

“She fell straight into our trap.” someone shouts, my pain is too severe to pay attention to the talker.

Marcus, with an ugly smile, empties the bottle content on my back wound and I literally go mad. The pain shoots directly into my brain. Every fucking flesh, cell, and tissue in my body begin to sting like I was bitten by multiple bees and thereafter, coiled in a platter of hot spice.

Marcus walks closer to me, replacing the first bottle with another. "So white wolf, I'm about to prepare my favorite meal and I want you to cook with me, okay?"

I'm still crying and whimpering and tending my wounds. I don't have the time to look it up.

"So we are going to prepare pancakes…." He trails off. "In a bowl mix Dry Ingredients— the flour, baking powder, and baking soda together…" he pours a dry white substance on my skin and I scream my lungs out.

He makes a tsk sound and continues.

"Next, add Wet Ingredients— egg, buttermilk, and sour cream." He looks down at me and with a smirk, he pours liquor on my skin.

Another guttural grunt escapes my mouth, at the feel of the hot alcohol on my skin.

He laughs…

"Next you mix and wait…Mix together. Don't overmix. Don't worry about the small clumps, they take care of themselves." He pauses and signals to Diana who brings a couple of stuff in bottles and sachets. Marcus empties them together and flashes me another sickening smile.

"Now, we wait for ten minutes…"

Waiting for ten minutes feels like waiting for eternity. All I hear is faint background noises like the sound that fills my senses is the fizzling sound of the alcohol and cocaine Marcus had dropped on my body. I just curl into a ball as the sensation of the element in my flesh drains me into a stupor. I'm on a low but at the same time high as fuck. My body stings like a thousand fire ants are attacking me at once and as though I'm the lobster in hot oil, getting greased and ready to be served for dinner.

Just what did I do to deserve this?

I thought, as my eyelid begins to close, my body unable to bear more of Marcus's torturous steps.