27. Ava

Shock zipsthrough me like a relentless current that refuses to ebb. Confused and more than a little ticked off, I glare at the closed door, feeling the sting on my cheek like a badge of dishonor. It burns all right, and then there's the fear—this wild, unwelcome guest that decides to throw a party in my veins, bubbling up from my toes and making its way up until I'm practically gagging on it.

"No screams," Elijah whispers, his voice a chilling caress that I definitely didn't sign up for. He pinches my chin, yanking my attention back to him with a harsh grip. "It won't be too hard to break you in."

Yeah, nope. I'm so out of here.

I jerk back, managing to slip my chin out of his viselike hold. "You know what? I'm done. Officially checking out." There's zero reason for me to stick around and endure abuse. Playing nice for my dad is one thing, but this is something else entirely.

Elijah's laugh echoes around the room, each chuckle laced with enough venom to make my heart stutter. My stomach feels like it's hosting a butterfly knife fight—all sharp edges and fluttering wings.

"You think you're done?" he questions.

He grabs me, his fingers clamping around my neck with a shake that jostles my head. He pulls me up, and I strain against the discomfort, battling the urge to give in to lessen the pain. Instead, I summon all my will, glaring daggers at him and secretly hoping for Ethan to come bursting in and give Elijah a taste of his own medicine.

The thought almost makes me crack a smile. Almost.

"I am done," I tell him, loading my words with as much spite as I can muster.

His response is a slow, eerie smile as he leans down, invading my personal space but stopping just short of touching me. "Ava," he sneers, and I feel the insult in my name, "getting you here was the only hurdle, and you just waltzed right in."

That's when it hits me—I've been played by my own dad. I trusted him, gave him the benefit of the doubt, and thought he had my back… What a cruel joke.

It was all a big, fat lie.

"There it is," Elijah says contemplatively as he tightens his grip and practically hauls me out of my seat. "That realization dawning on you—it's priceless."

I do the only thing I can think of—I spit right in his smug face. When he doesn't immediately react, panic flares up, bright and hot. Not many people tolerate that kind of disrespect.

Okay, maybe just the one type—sociopaths.

He calmly wipes my spit off his face, and then, without warning, he forces his fingers into my mouth. The pain is sharp and unexpected, and tears spring into my eyes.

"If you're going to act like a brat," he hisses, "then I'll treat you like one, Ava." His voice drips with a malice that sends shivers down my spine. "Think about what you just did. This is your one and only chance to reconsider your actions."

His fingers press down, making speech an impossibility, his grip on my neck unyielding. All I can manage is a glare that I hope conveys a clear message.

I can't wait to watch Ethan rip you to shreds, I seethe silently.

Too much rebellion courses through me, but for now, I shove it down. Survival first, smart mouth later.

"Have you thought about your actions, Ava?" he mocks, emphasizing my name as if he's admonishing a misbehaving child. It's clear he thinks he's schooling me, but inside, where it counts, I'm taking notes and biding my time. This isn't the end. Elijah may think he's in control, but I won't give up.

He hums beneath his breath, an unsettling melody given the gravity of his actions. "I don't think you've fully grasped the situation," he says, releasing his grip so suddenly that I stagger backward into the chair, every bruise a reminder of their existence. "What kind of punishment do you deem appropriate, Ava?"

Punishment?

Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, a sneer forms on my lips. Leveraging my good leg, I rise, facing him with all the defiance I can muster. Elijah might tower over me, but he lacks the formidable presence of my wolves, both in height and build. "I'm not a child, Elijah. Your right to touch, let alone punish me, is nonexistent."

"You seem to misunderstand your position, Ava," he counters, his tone dripping with condescension, as if addressing someone detached from reality. "You were bought and paid for the moment you stepped into this trap." He leans in, and his scent—a mix of spice and danger—fills my senses, momentarily paralyzing me. "Once we're in the dining room, your father will officiate our union. You belong to me."

In an instant, he draws me closer, forcing a kiss that I neither invite nor return. Shock courses through me, but survival instinct prevails, and I knee him squarely in the groin. His cry of pain is a fleeting victory as I shove him away, watching him fall. The coffee table overturns in the process, spilling my drink over him—an accidental yet fitting retribution.

Run, Ava.

With my injuries, running isn't an option. Hobbling toward the door as swiftly as I can manage, I clutch my phone through my purse like a beacon of hope. My breaths are quick and shallow—a silent echo of the panic coursing through me.

My escape is cut short, though, as Elijah grips my hair, pulling me back to the ground with a force that reignites every ache. He looms over me, a snarl distorting his features. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Screw you," I spit out, the words laced with defiance as he gears up for another strike. With a desperate kick from my cast, I manage to unbalance him, then roll away as he stumbles, the sound of glasses clattering from the bar cart punctuating his fall.

"You bitch," he seethes, bouncing back with a speed that sends a fresh wave of terror through me. I'm struggling to move, to breathe, when he's on me again, his weight pinning me down as he strikes my face. The taste of blood fills my mouth, my head hits the hardwood, and I'm acutely aware of every bruise throbbing beneath my skin.

"I love watching you bleed," he whispers with an unsettling softness to his voice. He traces the blood on my lip with a grotesque fascination, then he hits me again. My vision swims, my head lolls, and a creeping numbness begins to edge in.

This was a mistake—a grave, unfathomable mistake.

Tears prickle at the edges of my vision, but I fight them back, scouring my surroundings for anything that might serve as a weapon. Despite the dire situation, a spark of determination remains. I'm not ready to give up. Not now, not ever.

Elijah leans back, making himself comfortable on my legs like he's settling into his favorite chair. The scream that rips from me isn't just because of him—it's the sting of a stitch popping. I try to wriggle away, but it's no use against his weight.

Don't give up,I remind myself.

"Again," he says, his voice oozing sick excitement as he lifts and drops himself back onto my thighs. The pain sparks another involuntary cry from me. "Does that hurt, Ava?" he taunts, but I can't bring myself to look at him, my mind racing for some way out.

Something stirs inside me—a primal force, long dormant, begins to simmer to life, clawing against the mental barriers I've erected. My skin itches and burns—a sensation so foreign, it's as if it's disconnected from the physical abuse.

"Look at me, you bitch," he demands, pinching my chin and dragging my face up. Every part of me loathes him, itching for a chance to make him regret every second of this.

He digs his fingers into my mouth and tilts my head up, a cruel smile playing across his lips. Then, with an act of utter violation, he spits into my mouth. "I'm going to douse the fire in your veins, Ava," he whispers. "Christopher!" His shout for my father sends a jolt of panic through me, my heart skipping a beat.

Turning back to me, he drops the bomb. "We're getting married right now, and then I'm going to fuck the spirit right out of you." My blood turns to ice. I can't control the shudder that ripples through me, nor the itch that starts to spread like wildfire inside my body.

I want to shake my head, to deny his words, to do anything but lie here, but I'm frozen in place, trapped.

"You like that, don't you?" He gets up and sits down again, each time forcing a cry out of me. "Cry for me, Ava. Show me your tears."

I hate that my eyes betray me, spilling tears I wish I could keep locked up.

The door swings open, and my father stands there. I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, my last shred of hope disintegrating as he steps closer, crouching beside me. "Ava, this will go over easier if you'd just behave," he says, his voice a dagger to my heart. My pain is nothing more than a tool for their twisted ambitions.

I've never hated him more. Everything he is, everything I thought he was, it all crumbles right here on the floor with me, but then, something inside me clicks. Calmness sweeps over me, pushing out the chaos.

"Say the words, Christopher," Elijah urges, clearly getting impatient.

"Told you she'd be a wily one." Mr. Castellonlaughs nearby. His amusement at my expense wraps around me, choking me.

"You're married," my dad says, like he's announcing the time of day. "Ava, I expected so much more from you. Even your mother gave in," he states in his cold, detached voice.

The mention of her sparks something fierce and wild inside me. My skin doesn't just burn, it tears open, and I scream. No, it's not just a scream—it's a declaration, a breaking of chains. My body feels like it's undergoing its own earthquake, my bones cracking and realigning.

"What the fuck?" Elijah shrieks.

He's cut off by his dad's panicked shout. "You said she never shifted!"

Dad grabs my head, shaking me violently. "Get yourself under control. You will not shame me," he orders like I'm just acting out.

"We're going to have to kill her spirit," Mr. Castellon comments as if he's discussing the weather. "Elijah, get the chains."

Like hell they will.

With a startling pop, everything inside me transforms. My vision sharpens to an uncanny clarity, my pain vanishes as if swept away by a strong gust, and an involuntary snarl escapes my lips—a snarl, really? The three of them, including my father and Elijah, recoil, their movements hesitant as they back away.

"Get the gun," my father commands, his voice steady, yet his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty as they lock with mine.

Elijah panics. "You promised me since she never shifted, she wouldn't!" His voice has that whiny edge of betrayal, like I'm the one ruining his plans on purpose.

"This is her first shift," my dad muses, almost to himself. "The doctors assured me she didn't inherit her mother's genetics."

"Looks like they lied," Miss Piggy chimes in, her voice dripping with surprise and disdain. "Disgusting beast."

"Perhaps," my father replies, his gaze analytical and dissecting.

The cock of a gun hammers the final nail in my decision to flee. My body feels alien, oversized and clumsy, yet I'm propelled by an urgency that drowns out their shouts behind me. I dart through the mansion, which is a labyrinth now more than ever, desperate to remember the way I was brought in.

I skid around a corner, finding Bast by the entrance, looking calm as he leans against the front door. No fear emanates from him, just a quiet resolve as he swings the door open. Whether for me or not, I seize the opportunity, bolting out the door toward the forest, just as a shot pierces the air.

Pain explodes across my back, a sharp, biting sensation, but it doesn't slow me. On four paws—paws?—I surge forward, the realization of my transformation tumbling through my mind in a chaotic whirl.

Don't think about it, just run, Ava. Run.

The forest looms ahead, offering a dark, welcoming embrace. I hurl myself into its depths, dodging trees and underbrush. Shots and shouts fade into a distant buzz. Freedom is the only thing that matters now, the only thing that drives me.

A lone howl splits the silence, sending shivers down my spine. Friend or foe? At this point, anything is better than what I'm fleeing from. Drawn by the call, I race toward it, the howl echoing around me like a siren's song, promising refuge or perhaps a new danger.

Then, I sense him. It's a subtle brush against my consciousness, a whisper of awareness that caresses my fur with promises of safety, compassion, and support. The wild panic that's fueled my flight ebbs, replaced by a curious calm as I skid to a halt in a moonlit clearing.

The moon herself seems to lean closer, her light bathing the clearing in a silver glow, as if she is eager to watch my story unfold. Panting, I struggle to catch my breath, the sensations so vividly new yet not unpleasant.

A large, black wolf approaches, his presence commanding yet gentle. His whine is soft, like a ghostly caress against my heightened senses, and his eyes—so human and familiar—lock onto mine with an intensity that stirs something deep within me.

In the light of the moon, he shifts. Ethan stands before me, naked and unashamed, his posture one of deference. I hadn't realized I was growling until that moment, the sound dying in my throat as he speaks my name, a whisper carried on the night breeze.

"Ava," he says, his voice a soothing balm to the chaos within me. "Baby, I need you to shift back."

I resist, fear of capture twining with the newfound freedom of my form. A whimper escapes me, the sound foreign yet deeply mine.

"It's all right. I won't let anyone hurt you again," Ethan assures me, his gaze reaching into the very core of my being. "Never again. You're safe with me, with us."

His words, laden with unspoken promises, wrap around me, giving me a cocoon of safety and belonging.

Perhaps it's my imagination, or maybe it's the stories I weave around his words that finally coax my spirit to calm. Maybe I'm not meant to fully understand.

In the next moment, I take a deep breath, the air cool and refreshing in my human lungs.

"There you are," Ethan murmurs, catching me as I stumble into his arms, our nakedness a frivolous concern compared to the bond forming between us. "I have you. I promise."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," I repeat, my voice breaking with each apology, my sobs providing a release of the fear and pain.

It's only later, in the quiet aftermath, that I realize the full extent of my transformation…not just the physical healing, but the emotional and spiritual renewal it's begun.