The loud clang of metal striking against iron jolted Matilda awake.
She winced at the harsh sound, her body screaming in protest.
The cold, damp floor of the dungeon pressed against her skin, her limbs protesting against the heavy iron chains that bound her.
For a moment, she was lost, her mind clouded with confusion. Where was she?
Then the memories flooded back... the frantic chase, Uncle Jasper's death, her near-fatal, desperate escape, and finally, her capture.
She was no longer free.
Her ragged clothing barely covered her small frame, offering little protection from the chill. But that was the least of her worries.
She was a rogue now, an orphaned werewolf, held captive by a pack whose name she didn't even know.
A rough hand suddenly grabbed her arm, yanking her forward. Pain flared through her bruised body, and she gasped.
"Wake up, rogue," a gruff voice commanded.
Matilda blinked, her swollen eyes struggling to focus. Two figures loomed before her; Joel and Calvin. She recognized them as the ones who had ordered her capture.
Calvin crouched down before her, his piercing gaze scrutinizing every inch of her battered face. "You gonna talk now, or do we have to make you?"
Matilda remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Joel clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Stubborn, huh? I've broken wolves twice your size in half the time."
Matilda flinched as he grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "Who are you? What were you doing on our land?"
She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. "I... I have nowhere else to go," she whispered, her voice hoarse from thirst and pain.
Calvin exchanged a glance with Joel. "And the old man? The one you were running with?"
She swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat. "Dead."
A moment of silence. Then Joel scoffed. "Convenient."
Matilda clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palm. "It's the truth."
Joel sighed, standing to his full height. "I don't buy it. Maybe a few more days in here will loosen your tongue."
With that, they left, slamming the dungeon door behind them.
Days passed on, each one blending into the next.
The pain never left her.
Hunger gnawed at her insides, but the half-slice of bread they threw at her daily did little to sustain her strength.
The interrogations continued. Every day, they asked the same questions. Every day, she gave them the same answers.
She was alone. She had no home.
Her uncle was dead. And every day, the punishments got worse.
By the end of the week, Matilda barely recognized herself.
Her body was littered with scars, her once-bright brown eyes now dull with exhaustion.
Her hair was a tangled mess, and every attempt to move sent waves of pain through her battered limbs.
She wasn't the only one suffering.
From the shadows, she could hear the soft growls and whimpers of other prisoners, their voices weak, and their spirits broken.
Some were innocent. Some were criminals.
But in this dungeon, it didn't matter.
They all shared the same fate.
The iron door screeched open again. The same routine. The same faces.
Matilda's head lolled forward as Joel's heavy boots thudded against the stone floor as he approached her. He crouched down before her, tilting her chin up with two fingers. She hissed at the contact, her bruised skin screaming in protest.
"You look worse than yesterday," he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Matilda said nothing.
Calvin stood behind him, arms crossed. His eyes held no amusement. "We'll ask again," he said. "Who are you really? Why were you on our land?"
Silence.
Joel sighed, straightening. "I hate stubborn ones."
A sharp slap cracked across Matilda's cheek, jerking her head to the side. The taste of blood filled her mouth, warm and metallic.
She coughed, her breaths shallow. "I… told you… the truth."
Joel clicked his tongue. "Wrong answer."
The next hit sent her sprawling onto the cold stone floor.
She barely felt it anymore.
Nor did she know when they left.
On the fourth day. They didn't wait for her to be fully conscious before the next round began.
"Your uncle," Calvin's voice rang through the dimly lit dungeon. "You said he was killed. By whom?"
Matilda's cracked lips barely moved. "Rogues."
Joel hummed, pacing slowly. "And yet you're alone. No other family, no pack? How convenient."
"I'm… not lying."
A kick to her ribs sent her rolling onto her side. Matilda bit back a cry, pressing her forehead against the cold ground.
"You're testing my patience," Joel muttered.
Calvin's voice was calmer, but no less dangerous. "If you want to live, you should start talking."
Matilda inhaled shakily. "I have… nothing to say."
Joel scoffed. "Then enjoy your stay in this place."
On the fifth day, she was too weak to sit up when they came.
Joel crouched next to her, shaking his head. "You're still breathing. Impressive."
Matilda's swollen eye barely opened.
Calvin knelt beside her, his voice almost thoughtful. "You're young. Probably don't even have your wolf yet."
She didn't answer.
A long pause. Then Calvin exhaled. "Leave her."
Joel raised a brow. "You sure?"
"She's no use to us dead," Calvin muttered, standing. "Let's see how long she lasts."
They left without another word.
Matilda didn't move.
She simply lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Was this it? Was this where she was going to die?
She closed her eyes and waited.
The next day, the only sound in the dungeon was her own shallow breathing.
No one came.
No food. No questions. No beatings.
Just silence.
Matilda barely had the strength to lift her head. Her body was on fire, every wound pulsing with pain.
Her mind drifted to Uncle Jasper's voice.
"Run, Matilda. Never look back."
She had run. But where had it led her?
Her fingers twitched. Her stomach ached. Her lips were cracked, and dry.
She could hear the other prisoners murmuring in the distance, but their voices blurred together, lost in the fog of her exhaustion.
She was fading.
She knew it.
And maybe… maybe that was okay.
The following day, she heard footsteps.
Matilda barely reacted when the door to her dungeon cells creaked open again.
Joel. Calvin.
This time, their expressions were different.
Less cruel. More… assessing.
Calvin crouched before her, tilting his head. "Still alive."
Joel sighed. "Tough little thing, aren't you?"
Matilda didn't respond.
Calvin studied her for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Joel followed, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Matilda exhaled weakly, the sound barely escaping her lips.