I lingered in the girls' locker room longer than I needed to, waiting for the arena to clear out. If the guys were still lingering outside, I would just have to deal with the awkwardness. But as I reached for the door, it swung open abruptly, the impact knocking me off balance. I barely registered the flash of a fist in my peripheral vision before everything went black.

Plink. Drip. Plink. Drip.

An incessant, hollow dripping sound pulled me from the darkness. My head throbbed with searing pain, every pulse like a hammer against my skull. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids felt weighed down, as if some unseen force kept them shut. After a moment, I managed to blink, catching blurred glimpses of my surroundings.

Plink. Drip. Plink. Drip.

The metallic, rhythmic sound pierced through the haze. Slowly, the locker room came into focus: the faint outline of tiled walls, the shower fixtures gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light, and the metallic basin where the dripping water echoed. I tried to move my head toward the sound, but even the slightest shift sent a fiery stab through my body. My ribs protested painfully, likely broken.

I forced myself to take a shallow breath. The scent of my own blood was overwhelming, thick and suffocating. Panic clawed at my mind as I realized just how much blood there was.

Then I heard her voice, cutting through my dazed fog like a blade.

“Took you long enough, you weak little bitch. You weren’t even hit that hard,” Stacey sneered. Her voice slithered around me, dripping with disdain. I flinched, a reaction I immediately regretted as every bruise and broken bone flared in agony.

I tried to assess my injuries. My shoulders were on fire, my wrists throbbed, and I couldn’t feel my fingers. I realized I was hanging from something, suspended just enough that my toes barely touched the ground. My knees hurt, my torso screamed in protest, and I could feel warm blood trickling from somewhere on my face.

My mouth was dry, my tongue felt like sandpaper. I tried to form words, but all that came out was a rasped gasp.

“Don’t even try to talk, Selene. I’m just here to give you a little reminder.” Stacey’s voice dripped with venom. “Stay away from Ryan and Aaron. They’re mine, and I’m tired of you getting in the way.”

A sharp, vicious kick to my stomach stole the air from my lungs. I gasped, fighting to hold on to consciousness as my vision blurred. Another kick landed on my ribs, and I heard the unmistakable crack of bone.

“Stop distracting them,” she seethed, landing another brutal kick. “Stop trying to force yourself on them.”

With each hateful word, her kicks and punches landed in a horrifying rhythm. Blood pooled in my mouth, my vision dimming again. Somewhere in the haze, I heard other voices—her cronies, Marnie and Jeanie, each joining in, each enjoying my suffering.

A slap stung my cheek, followed by a sneering laugh. “They. Are. Mine.”

Then came the sound of scissors snipping. I tried to flinch away, but I was too weak, too broken. The cold edge of the blade grazed my scalp, strands of hair falling around me, taunting me as they floated to the ground. Stacey laughed, the sound sending chills through my battered body.

“There,” she said, admiring her handiwork. “Even when you heal, you’ll look as hideous as you feel.”

My breaths came in shallow, painful gasps. Every inch of me burned, a searing agony that burrowed deep into my bones. In my desperation, I reached out through the link I shared with my pack, my mental cries barely more than whispers. I didn’t know if they’d hear me or if the wolfsbane running through my veins would sever my connection entirely, but I prayed, hoping that someone would sense my pain, feel my agony.

Please… someone help me. Please…

In the dim recesses of my mind, I thought of Ethan, Leo, and the twins, their faces flashing before me. I saw Kylie, her warm, encouraging smile, and Devin’s easy laugh. If they could feel me somehow, if they could sense the despair, maybe they’d come. Maybe they’d find me.

My strength waned, the darkness creeping in around the edges of my vision.

“Let’s make sure she stays out cold until the ball is over,” Stacey commanded, her voice cold and indifferent. “We wouldn’t want her ruining the night.”

Then they began again, landing kicks and punches that rained down like hailstones. I lost track of time. My thoughts scattered, my mind fading in and out of consciousness. I could barely focus, drifting in a fog of pain and regret.

I hope this isn’t the end.

Images of my friends filled my mind, fragments of happier moments: training with Devin, sparring with Leo, laughing with Aaron, sneaking around with Ethan. I thought of Ryan’s reassuring presence and Kylie's unwavering support. I could picture Brandon and the younger pups, their eager faces as they trained. I tried to hold on to those memories, letting them wash over me, but they began to fade, slipping away.

Suddenly, a noise shattered the silence. A loud, echoing bang! reverberated through the locker room, the sound reverberating off the walls. Rough, urgent hands gripped my shoulders, lifting me from the ground. I tried to focus, but everything was a blur.

“Selene! Selene, stay with me,” a deep, familiar voice commanded. I struggled to place it, the fog in my mind too thick.

A gentle hand brushed my hair, lifting my head carefully. “Come on, Selene,” he whispered, his voice breaking with barely restrained rage and fear. “I need you to stay with me. Just open your eyes.”

I tried to obey, but my eyelids felt impossibly heavy. I managed a faint moan, and I felt the slightest relief ripple through the air around me.

“She’s still alive,” he growled, his voice raw. “We need to move now.”

I was lifted, the cold air biting against my skin as the warmth of his arms surrounded me. I could barely make sense of anything, only feeling the steady beat of his heart, the whispered words of comfort he murmured into my hair.

“Selene, stay with me,” he repeated, his voice softer, almost pleading.

My head lolled against his shoulder, and I mustered every last ounce of energy to whisper, “Let me die.”

“No,” he growled, the word sharp and furious. “You’re not leaving us. Not like this. Not ever.”

I wanted to fight him, to tell him I was tired, that the pain was too much. But his grip tightened, his arms wrapping around me as if he could physically hold me to this world.

The darkness finally claimed me, but this time, there was a promise anchoring me to life—a fierce, determined promise from the one who had found me in my darkest hour.