Denderick’s POV
The stench of rot and blood hit me before my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the dungeon. I had prepared myself for the worst, but nothing could have steeled me for the horror that lay before me.
The flickering light from the braziers illuminated rows of women- no, skeletons- chained to the walls, their bodies barely alive. Their hollow eyes, sunken and lifeless, stared blankly ahead. Some whimpered, their breaths shallow and ragged, while others sat motionless, as if death had already claimed them in spirit, if not yet in flesh.
My heart lurched in pain as I saw them. This…. this was all Logan’s doing. His depravity and wickedness knew no bounds.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I moved deeper into the room, my boots echoing across the stone floor. A table stood in the very middle of the room. Torture instruments lined the walls above the women’s heads. The walls themselves were ominously dark with years and years of decay and…. something else. Something I very well knew to be blood.
These women… they were not prisoners. They were victims, tortured, brutalized, stripped of their humanity.
Even my men exchanged looks of disbelief, but none dared to speak. There were no words for this.
Then, amidst the sea of broken bodies, I saw her. Aria.
She lay naked and crumpled on the cold ground, her back covered in whip marks, her body bruised and bloody. Her dark brown hair was even darker and matted with dirt and blood. Her face… By the Moon, her face was pale, drained of life, yet she was unmistakable.
My heart dropped into my stomach, and I was at her side in an instant.
“Aria!” I knelt beside her, gently lifting her limp body into my arms. She was so light, too light as if she might disappear any second. The sight of her battered and broken form sent a surge of rage coursing through my veins. My hands trembled with the urge to destroy something-no, to destroy him. Logan. The monster who did this.
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice, weak but alive, and they met mine with a mixture of relief and pain.
“Denderick…” she rasped, and her hand came up to touch my face.
“I’m here,” I murmured, my throat tightening with emotion. “I’m here, Aria. I’m going to get you out of here. You’re safe now.”
Her lips trembled as she tried to speak again, but her words seemed to be swallowed by the sheer exhaustion overtaking her body. I held her tighter, my chest aching at the sight of her suffering.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. This…. this will never happen again, I promise.”
Aria winced as she shifted in my arms, her face contorting in pain. I cursed myself silently for letting her endure even a second of this. For not finding her before Logan did.
“Tell me what happened,” I urged. “Please, my love. Tell me everything.”
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears as she began. “I… I left your pack because I… I couldn’t stand the thought of you and Giselle. I left after our last argument…”
“I know, Aria,” I murmured.
“Logan, he-he found me, Denderick. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him.”
Her voice cracked, and I could hear the agony in every word. She told me about the moment she left, how she’d been trying to keep Logan away, how he’d captured her, tortured her. And worse-how he had used her son, her child, as leverage.
My stomach twisted into knots as I listened. The more she spoke, the darker my vision became. How could anyone-how could Logan-do this? My grip on her tightened, not in anger at her, but at myself, at Logan, at the world for allowing this nightmare to happen.
“And Edward…” Her voice seemed to break at the mention of our son’s name. She shuddered, her breath hitching as she tried to continue.
“They killed him, Denderick. Erinne and Logan killed my son. And Erinne… she showed me… she showed me a lock of his hair!”
She stopped, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her tears fell freely now, soaking into my shirt as she clung to me. I could barely breathe. The thought of Logan murdering an innocent child, our child, was too much to bear. My blood boiled, but for Aria, I needed to stay calm. At least for this moment.
“I’ll kill him,” I growled. “I swear to you, Aria. He will pay for every single thing he’s done. To you. To your son. To all of these women. I’ll make sure of it.”
Aria’s fingers gripped the fabric of my shirt, her body tense as if bracing for another blow. But it wasn’t pain that she responded to. It was my vow. My promise of vengeance. I knew she needed to know that someone was still fighting for her, that someone would destroy the man who had taken everything from her.
“No more,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against hers. “No more pain. No more loss. I’ll make this right. I swear it.”
She closed her eyes, her tears still falling, but there was a small flicker of something in her expression. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the quiet understanding that this nightmare was far from over. But for now, I held her, and that was enough.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air.
I tensed, lifting my head as the noise grew louder. My men did the same, hands on their weapons, ready for whatever was coming. And then I heard it-the unmistakable clink of armor, the pounding of boots against stone.
Logan’s men had discovered our breaking and entry.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Aria as I gently laid her back down, standing to face the door. My hand immediately went to the hilt of my sword as I moved to stand in front of my men.
The door to the dungeon burst open, and Logan’s guards flooded in. There were too many of them, but I didn’t care. Not anymore. All I could see was Logan’s smug face, his cruel laughter echoing in my mind, and the image of Aria’s broken body lying at my feet. They were all guilty by association. All of them.
I drew my sword, the cold metal glinting in the dim light. My men followed, their weapons raised, their eyes locked on mine, waiting for the command.
I glared at the guards, then snarled.
“Kill them all.”