Feral Bonds

Chapter 4: The Witch's Daughter

Time blurred in the damp, suffocating confines of the cell, every passing moment bleeding into the next like a slow, agonizing trickle. Akecheta lay curled on the cold stone floor, his body battered and bruised, every breath a reminder of his torment. The ache in his ribs was sharp, but the hollow loneliness gnawed at him most. The memory of the pack's cruel laughter still echoed in his mind, mingling with the oppressive silence. Yet, somewhere deep within him, a fragile ember of hope flickered—small but stubborn, refusing to die. It pulsed with the desperate need for connection, for understanding, even as despair clawed at the edges of his soul.

The sound of approaching footsteps abruptly shattered the heavy silence—light and chaotic, different from the usual stomp of the pack. Akecheta's heart quickened. Lifting his head from the ground, he strained to hear, his senses alert despite the pain pressing against his consciousness like a suffocating weight.

The rusted hinges of the heavy metal door groaned open, and in stumbled a young girl. She couldn't have been more than ten, her wide, frightened eyes scanning the darkness as she panted from exertion. Her tangled hair fell wildly around her olive face, slick with sweat, and her clothes were torn in several places, evidence of her recent capture. When her eyes finally met Akecheta's, her expression shifted from fear to surprise, as though she had stumbled upon something unexpected.

"A wolf?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, fragile as it hung in the air.

Akecheta pushed himself up slightly, the effort costing him. His voice came out raspy and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in days. "Who are you?" he croaked, his body instinctively moving into a defensive posture despite the pain wracking his bones. "Why are you here?"

The girl hesitated, then took a cautious step closer. "My name is Sira," she said quietly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm the daughter of a witch. They... they brought me here."

Akecheta's eyes sharpened with concern. "Brought you here? Why?"

Sira's lips quivered as she explained, her small frame trembling. "They captured me to use me against my mother. They think if they hurt me, they can control her."

Akecheta's heart clenched at her words. "They're using you as leverage?" He spat the words, disgust twisting his expression. "That's monstrous."

Sira nodded, biting her lip. "I overheard them. They said they'd kill me if she doesn't do what they want. I don't want to die here."

Something profound and protective stirred in Akecheta, more potent than the pain in his body. This girl—so small, so vulnerable—was being used as a pawn in their vicious games. His anger simmered, but more than that, he felt a surge of determination. "I won't let them hurt you," he said softly, a quiet but firm promise in his voice. "You deserve to be safe."

"But you're hurt," Sira protested, her gaze dropping to the bruises and cuts littering his body. "You need rest."

"I'll be fine," Akecheta insisted, though his body screamed otherwise. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling him down, but for her sake, he had to stay strong for her sake. "You deserve to be safe."

Before either of them could say more, the door creaked open again, and a familiar dread filled the room as the pack's oppressive presence returned. Akecheta's stomach twisted as Toren and Kaldan stepped inside, flanked by two other packmates. Their predatory grins sent chills down his spine.

Toren's eyes narrowed with cruel amusement as he spotted the girl. "Well, well," he drawled, taking in Sira's disheveled state. "The witch's brat. Looks like you've found yourself quite the little companion, Akecheta."

Akecheta shifted to shield Sira from their gaze, his voice hoarse but resolute. "Leave her alone," he rasped. "She has nothing to do with this. She's just a child."

Toren's smirk widened, and he stepped closer. "Oh, but she has everything to do with this," he said coldly. "Her mother will do anything to get her back. And all we have to do is remind the witch what happens when you cross the pack."

Akecheta's heart sank, dread curling deep inside him. "It's not right," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the thudding in his chest.

Toren's smile faltered, and his expression hardened. "You don't get to decide what's right, boy. You're just a broken little pup, and you know it." His gaze flicked to Sira, his tone mocking. "But her? She's important. She's the key to breaking her witch of a mother. She'll come crawling to us soon enough."

Sira's eyes filled with panic, but she stepped forward, trembling yet defiant. "Please," she begged, her voice cracking, "don't hurt him. He's one of you. He doesn't deserve this."

The pack's laughter echoed in the cell, chilling the air. "One of us?" Toren sneered, his gaze sweeping over Akecheta with disdain. "This weakling? You think this... thing is a wolf?"

Before Akecheta could react, Toren lunged at him, kicking him in the ribs with brutal force. The air rushed out of Akecheta's lungs, pain exploding through his side as he crumpled to the ground. He gasped, curling into himself, struggling to shield his battered body from further blows.

"Leave him alone!" Sira screamed, rushing toward the bars that separated her from Akecheta. But Kaldan grabbed her, slamming her against the wall with a grip that left her struggling for breath. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears, but her voice remained fierce. "He's not weak!" she cried. "He's stronger than you think!"

Kaldan laughed darkly, tightening his grip. "Akecheta's nothing but an omega. A worthless mutt destined for servitude and pain."

Akecheta lay on the floor, his body throbbing with pain, the taste of blood in his mouth. Despair weighed heavily on him like a dark cloud suffocating his will. He was powerless to protect Sira, powerless even to defend himself.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear Sira's cries, distant and desperate, but the sound of them ignited something in him—a flicker of defiance, of determination. He couldn't give up. Not yet.

The pack's footsteps retreated, leaving the cell in silence once more. Akecheta remained on the floor, struggling to breathe, tears of frustration mingling with the blood staining his skin. Sira's soft sobs filled the air, her small frame trembling as she huddled close to the bars, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Akecheta rasped, his voice thick with guilt. "I can't protect you."

But Sira shook her head fiercely, her eyes shining with a fierce, unwavering belief. "You don't have to apologize," she said. "You're not weak, Akecheta. You've survived this long. We have to hold on until my mother comes."

As he lay there, pain coursing through his body, Akecheta clung to her words. He might be an omega, but he wasn't entirely defeated. He would endure this, for her sake. And somehow, he would find a way to fight back.

In the oppressive darkness of that cell, with Sira's unwavering belief kindling a tiny spark of hope, Akecheta made a vow to himself. He wouldn't let the pack break them. No matter how much pain he had to endure, he would find a way to protect her. Even if it meant sacrificing everything.