Page 5

Chapter

Five

A ZALEA

We step into a courtyard bathed in an eerie silence, its atmosphere heavy.

My heart nearly stopped in my chest as my eyes landed on Ester, her slender figure bound and helpless, hands chained above her head to the cold stone wall.

Her torn clothes revealed the aftermath of merciless lashes that had once marred her delicate flesh, but now only faint scars remained as she healed quickly, leaving her panting for breath.

Kyson growls, and anger courses through the bond.

Peter, his face etched with guilt and regret, stands before us, his trembling hands releasing the whip he had wielded moments ago.

He looks at Kyson with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy.

Clarice, standing off to the side, nervously nibbles on her fingernails, tears streaming down her face, leaving trails of despair in their wake.

But it is Trey’s expressionless face that shocked me the most. A sneer twists his lips as he looks at Peter, and his own sister, showing no trace of care or compassion. The callousness in his gaze is truly shocking.

“Again! You have twenty more lashes to deliver, Peter,” Trey snarls, his voice dripping with sadistic anger.

He stalks towards Peter and snatches the whip from the ground, thrusting it at him.

Peter flinches away, fear etched deep into his eyes.

Bile rises in my throat as I tighten my grip on Kyson’s hand. He turns his head to meet my gaze.

“It’s only twenty lashes,” I whisper to him, hoping he would let her go and Ester glances over her shoulder at me. Her face is flushed red, and she panting before looking at Kyson.

“Hurry up, Peter. Finish it,” Kyson snaps, his tone laced with impatience and a cruel edge.

“Prick,” I hiss under my breath, my frustration and disgust seeping through. Kyson growls in response, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“Watch your tone,” he warns, his voice a low rumble.

“Watch yours,” I retort, ripping my arm from his grip. I make my way over to Clarice, who explains that Ester is surprisingly enduring the punishment rather well. Kyson overhears our conversation, his displeasure evident in the sharpness of his growl.

He walks over to Liam, engaging in a conversation before Liam walks away, his expression etched with concern.

I am taken aback by how quickly Ester’s wounds seemed to heal.

As soon as the whip is removed, her skin closes, leaving behind angry red marks.

Witnessing someone else being whipped sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl.

The sound of the whip cracking through the air, tearing flesh apart, brought back painful memories that I desperately tried to suppress.

All I want is to run away from this nightmare.

I can’t stand the sound of the crack through the air, the sound of ripping flesh. Flashbacks creep into my mind as I try and block them out.

Yet, as Peter finishes delivering the lashes, Ester’s back remains red and inflamed, but no longer bleeding.

This seems to bother Kyson. He craves bloodshed and violence; the stains on the stone ground are not enough to satiate his hunger for revenge.

Lost in my thoughts, I stared at the rose bushes, blocking out the horrifying scene unfolding before me until Ester’s piercing shriek pierced through the air.

My attention snaps back to reality as Liam enters with a bucket, its pungent scent of Wolfsbane assaulting my senses.

Clarice whimpers beside me, her fear palpable. I straighten up, my body tensing.

“Kyson!” I hiss urgently. He growls in response, his face contorted with anger.

This is excessive, even for him. Horror washes over me as I watched him dip the whip into the bucket, my heart lodged in my throat.

Tears well up in my eyes as he pulls it out, the cracking sound filling the air, splattering droplets everywhere.

Ester’s agonized scream reverberates through my core.

That single scream transports me back to a dark place, a place I never thought I would be trapped in again. The flashbacks assault my mind, threatening to drown me. I despise Kyson at that moment, despise the monster he is becoming before my eyes.

Peter’s blood-curdling scream echoes through the courtyard, sending shivers down my spine and causing my ears to ring.

I twist to look around, my stomach lurching as its contents spill out onto the ground, sending a searing pain into my tender knife would.

Kyson, however, pays no attention to my sickness, consumed by his own rage

Unfazed by Ester’s screams or Peter’s desperate pleas, Kyson’s rage blinds him to his surroundings.

Even as Ester hangs limply in her chains after countless lashes, he doesn’t stop.

I find myself trapped in the darkest recesses of my mind, a place I thought I had escaped forever.

But this time, it is Kyson’s actions that hold me captive there until Clarice’s piercing cry echoes through the chaos.

Her hands grip me tighter and Peter’s reverberating screams make goosebumps rise. My ears ring loudly, ripping me out of my own head.

Peter lays crumpled on the ground, and Kyson stands over him, whip still in hand. Ester, a bloody mess, struggles to lift her head, her voice barely a whisper.

“Leave him,” she breathes, her words filled with desperation.

But she can’t move, her strength drained from her battered body.

I stare at the horrifying scene before me, Peter clutching his bleeding face, Kyson seething with rage.

And then, Trey clenching his jaw and looking away, a silent admission of his disagreement with Kyson’s actions.

I swallow as he breathes heavily. Nearby, the gardener looks pale as a ghost as he looks at Peter and Ester. He reaches forward, gripping Peter’s arms.

“Please, no more! She can’t take it anymore! Let me take her place.” Peter pleads.

“No!” Clarice shrieks.

Kyson snarls, his upper lip pulling back over his teeth, and a sinister glint reflects in his black obsidian eyes. He tilts his head to the side.

“I’ll allow it.”

“He is just a boy!” Tanner the gardener interjects, his voice filled with righteous indignation. Whoever he is, he cares deeply for Peter.

“He can’t even heal!” Kyson shrugs dismissively, his attention fixed on Ester.

The whip cracks through the air once again, and her agonizing scream tears at my heart when Peter breaks free from the gardener’s grasp and throws himself in front of his mother.

I see Kyson raise the whip, and without hesitation, I dash forward, throwing myself in front of my brother once more.

Peter won’t be able to heal. I can’t stand by and allow Kyson to kill them. The punishment Kyson had sentenced Ester to had already become a death sentence when he introduced Wolfsbane into the equation. Enough was enough.

The sharp tendrils of fiery pain rip through my back, tearing through my dress and shoulder. I grit my teeth, feeling my back arch in response, but I hold onto Peter tightly, determined to shield him from harm. My own scream reverberates through the courtyard, mingling with Ester’s agonized cries.

Pain courses through every fiber of my being as I lock eyes with Kyson, his face contorts with fury and shock. He reaches out towards me, his hands trembling, but then shakes his head.

“Move!” he commands, his voice strained with conflicting emotions.

“She has suffered enough!” I seethe through clenched teeth, my voice filled with an indomitable resolve.

“When I say she has,” Kyson growled, his voice a low rumble. But I refuse to move, standing my ground against the man I love yet hate in this moment.

I gesture towards the gardener, who hurriedly approaches and takes hold of Peter, dragging him away from the unfolding nightmare. As I undo the front of my dress, preparing to take Ester’s place, Kyson’s voice, laced with desperation, cuts through the tense air.

“No!” he snarls, his eyes filled with anguish and fear.

“You would have allowed Peter to take her place, but I won’t allow that.

Therefore, he takes his mother’s place, and I take his.

So which is it, Kyson?” I demand, my voice steady and resolute.

With each button that pops open, my dress falls to the ground, leaving me standing in nothing but my undergarments.

The onlookers avert their gazes, a silent acknowledgement of the vulnerability and strength that lay before them.

Ester groans, her flesh sizzling from the Wolfsbane’s touch.

My own back stings, sending waves of searing pain up and down my spine.

I long for water to douse the flames that consume me.

“Azalea!” Kyson snarls, his voice filled with rage and desperation. He comes up behind me, his long fingers wrapping tightly around my arm as he spun me to face him.

“What is it, Kyson? Can’t bear to see your mark on my flesh while reveling in hers? No! I won’t allow it!” I declare, my voice filled with defiance and determination.

“Then I kill her,” he sneers, his words dripping with malice.

“You said lashes! You’re already killing her. Look at her!” I scream furiously, my words laced with a mix of anger and despair. He seems taken aback, finally looking at Ester’s ravaged back, the blood pooling at her feet.

“Enough,” I repeat firmly. “Or I take her place.” My voice resonates with unwavering resolve. He locked eyes with me, his narrowed gaze filled with fury. The tension between us grows palpable as we stand there, neither willing to bow down to the other’s will.

“Know your place, My King. Landeena’s word is final,” I assert, my voice dripping with authority.

“Not over me it’s not, My Queen,” he snarls back, his voice laced with defiance. “You may be Landeena, but I am your mate. The Alpha hierarchy still holds weight.”

“Do you want to test that theory?” I challenge, my voice steady and unwavering.

It’s a test, and deep down, I know he will back down when faced with the power of my title.

He seems surprised, his eyebrows raising in realization.

And just like that, my assumption is confirmed.

In the hierarchy of the Alpha and Landeena, the Alpha is always the most assertive, the most dominant in the mate bond.

But against a Landeena, a Landeena power is unparalleled.

This newfound understanding surged through me, filling me with strength as Kyson took a step back, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and submission.

“Just remember,” he growls, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and defiance, “you may have power now, but that doesn’t mean you know how to use it.”

“Yet, Kyson. Not yet,” I reply firmly, my voice filled with determination. “But I think you and I both know you’re dreading the day when I do.” His growl echoes through the courtyard as he turns away from me, storming off in frustration.

I release Peter from my grip, turning to face Ester once more. Her body hangs limply from the chains, her breathing shallow and weak.

“Release her! “ He snaps before turning his gaze back to me. “Cover up!” he snaps, turning on his heel and storming off.