CHAPTER 6 - Get Away before Falling for Him

Lyra's POV *Careful reading this chapter. SA trigger* After hours of questioning which I refused to answer, several guards dragged me, kicking and screaming, through a maze of semi-lit corridors until we reached a narrow staircase. Uncertainty settled over me as we descended, each step echoing with the hollow sound of the guards’ booted feet. When we arrived at a row of musty cells beneath the ground, my screams, along with my flaying arms and kicking feet, ratcheted up a notch. "Shout all you want," a guard sneered, his voice laced with disdain, as he secured cold iron shackles around my wrists. "You're the only one down here. The Alpha deals with those who dare to step out of line himself. And rogues know better than to set foot on his lands." With a dismissive glance, the guard stood, and with the others, they left me alone on the frigid stone floor, bound and helpless. Soon after, the quietness seeped inside my mind. Isolation set in, stirring up memories of rejection and betrayal. The indifference of my father, the deceit of Blake, the cruelty of Viola... and now, the capture of Ryan. Once again, I had been cast aside. Undoubtedly left to rot in this forsaken place. It would be easy to cave. Easy to let my despair overwhelm me. But I didn’t give it a chance. I was Lyra Evergreen, and I’d faced much worse and come out stronger. Pushing from the ground, I brushed off the muck and grime that clung to my clothes and studied my surroundings. This cell was way better than the one they'd locked Ryan in. It even had a toilet and a sink with a bit of soap and a rag. The air was dry, although bitterly cold, and the floor beneath my feet was solid concrete instead of dirt. I stretched my arms upward, my fingertips a few lengths away from the ceiling. In Wolfsong’s cells a grown wolf would barely have room to turn around, let alone stand. Yes, this was an improvement alright. I squashed the urge to roll my eyes. No one would see me anyway. Instead, links clanked behind me as I made my way to the sink. I turned the tap on and splashed frigid water onto my face. The cloth, old and worn, scraped harshly against my skin, removing the layers of dirt and grime. It wasn't enough to take away what I'd done. The dark blotches of blood on my clothes stained them into a grotesque realism painting. Ryan's blood. My heart twisted with guilt knowing that I was the cause of hurting him. I hadn't meant to, really. I just wanted to escape, to leave him as he had left me. To get away before I fell for him. At least his pulse had beat strong beneath my fingers. What had gotten me was how he had looked so pale and lifeless, that cocky swagger of his reduced to a helpless state. For just a moment, I saw the boy he used to be before everything changed. My desperate shouts for help had echoed through the dark forest, each one fueled by a unrefined fear coursing through my veins. As the pounding of my heart picked up the pace, I heard the snarls and growls of wolves approaching. Ryan’s guards had quickly assessed the situation and lifted him up. I followed behind them, urging them to hurry… Worry for Ryan kept me up, pacing my cell for hours. Eventually a guard came with a tin cup of water and a small plate of food. I ignored the delicious aroma wafting in my cell as I begged his stone face for information on Ryan. He gave me nothing. I slumped to the floor, tears pricked my eyes while the meat and boiled potato remained untouched. 'If he… dies,' the very thought had a fist squeezing my heart, 'what will become of me?' Thoughts swirled as I whipped myself into a state of survival mode. Countless times before, I had been underestimated, and each time, I proved them all wrong. I resolved to find a way out of this prison, and to make everyone see that I was not just some weak, helpless girl. Even if I hadn't shifted yet, I was a creature of strength and purpose. No one would break me. Clenching my fists, I dug my nails into my palms, seeking solace in the grounding pain. It fueled my determination, reminding me that this setback would not defeat me. I would rise above it, just as I always had. My resolve hardened as I vowed to show them all that I was not someone to be trifled with. "I am Lyra Evergreen," I whispered fiercely into the darkness, allowing words to build me up instead of breaking me down. "And I will not be held captive. Not by these bars, not by my past, not by anyone." The fire within me burned brighter the more I talked. "I will fight, I will endure, and I will emerge victorious. Because that's who I am. That's what I do." Applause echoed through the stairwell, drawing my attention toward the staircase. A large figure emerged from the shadows. I recognized him as one of the guards who had assisted me the night before, his hand ‘accidentally’ grazing my boobs multiple times as he carried me down the stairs. “You gave yourself quite the motivational speech there. It almost moved me.” I watched in horror as he swayed on his feet. It took him a couple of tries to pull a key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. After entering my cell, he slammed the bars behind him, the loud click signifying a sense of finality. “W-what do you want?” I had fought enough battles to feign fear to throw my opponent off. He liked his thin lips and eyed me up and down. “Oh, I think you know what I am after. Put up a struggle, will ya? I like it when you girls struggle.” The guard lunged, meaty hands outstretched to grab me. I jerked back, the wind of his missed attempt stinging my cheek. No time to think - react. My foot slammed into his gut, doubling him over with a strangled gasp. Adrenaline coursed through me, a fiery mix of desperation and anger. I wasn't some plaything to be broken! He staggered, but a feral gleam came into his bloodshot eyes. I pressed the attack, fist meeting flesh with a satisfying thwack. He roared, flailing at me, but I ducked, spun, elbow connecting to his jaw with a crack that sent tremors up my arm. Metal chains rattled against the concrete floor, a frantic soundtrack to our brutal ballet. He shoved me, and my back scraped the rough wall. Cursing, I dodged his follow-up, moving like I was fueled by wildfire. Sweat dripped into my eyes as we grappled. The fetid stench of him, the grunts echoing in the cell – it was too much, too close. Fear gnawed at my resolve, but I shoved it down. Each of his insults, each leer, made me hit harder. My fist connected with his ribs, the sickening crunch almost drowned out by his scream. For a moment, the fight went out of him. But his kind didn't give up and crawl away. No, he had one last stand in him yet. We jabbed and parried with our hands, both heaving breaths, bruises darkening on our skin. He came at me with a desperate, ragged cry. I was almost too tired, too slow… but a surge of defiance sparked within me. A quick sidestep, and his momentum carried him past. His head hit the wall, and he crumpled, a boneless heap on the dirty floor. Each breath was ragged, my muscles screaming. Yet, a twisted kind of triumph bubbled up in my throat. The guard whimpered, and my shadowed heart felt nothing but disgust. I drew back a foot to plant it in his ass when a shout rang out, "Lyra, what did you do? "