The Long Lost Tribrid

22. Attack on the Island?

Hope's Pov:

It's been five months since I've been this cell. Five months of torture. Five months of pure despair.

"Aghhh!" I screamed, my voice raw and hoarse, as another wave of searing pain washed over me. The acrid scent of wolfsbane filled my nostrils as more of the toxic herb was thrown onto my already blistering skin. The pain was excruciating, like a thousand needles piercing every inch of my body simultaneously.

"Where is she?!" Alaric bellowed, his face contorted with rage. He was notorious for being one of the most ruthless and unforgiving individuals in this city, a reputation he seemed determined to uphold. His eyes, cold and merciless, bore into mine as he demanded information about my sister. But I remained steadfast, my lips sealed. There was no way I was giving up Emily's location. They were oblivious to the fact that she had successfully reached Forbidden Island, and I intended to keep it that way, no matter the cost.

With a snarl of frustration, Alaric reached into his jacket and pulled out a wicked-looking knife. The blade glinted menacingly in the dim light, and I couldn't help but flinch. My eyes, filled with pain and fear, darted over to Reece. The sight of her broke my heart. She was huddled in the corner, her small frame wracked with sobs as she screamed and pleaded with Alaric to stop his brutal torture. Her cries echoed off the walls, a haunting soundtrack to my suffering.

"Look away, Reece, look away," I managed to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper. To my relief, she obeyed, covering her ears with trembling hands. But I knew it wouldn't be enough to block out the sounds of what was to come. My heart ached for her. The poor girl had been forced to turn against her will, thrust into the world of werewolves without any choice in the matter. She didn't deserve to witness this horror.

"I'm not telling you," I grunted defiantly, gathering what little strength I had left to spit a mouthful of blood at Alaric's feet. The metallic taste lingered on my tongue, a stark reminder of the beating I'd already endured.

Alaric's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you," was all he said, his voice eerily calm. Before I could brace myself, he plunged the knife deep into my stomach. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Agh," I groaned, biting down hard on my lip to stifle my cries. I was determined to spare Reece from hearing the full extent of my agony. The taste of blood filled my mouth once more as my teeth broke the skin of my lip.

With a cruel twist, Alaric ripped the knife out of my stomach. I could feel warm blood gushing from the wound, soaking my tattered shirt. But he wasn't done. With agonizing slowness, he dragged the blade down my thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. My body, already weakened by the wolfsbane and repeated torture, struggled to heal. The werewolf regeneration that I usually relied on was sluggish, barely able to keep up with the onslaught of new injuries.

"Where the fuck is she, Hope?!" Alaric screamed, his patience clearly at its end. His hand connected with my face in a vicious slap, the force of it snapping my head to the side. Stars danced in my vision as pain exploded across my cheek.

Despite the agony coursing through my body, I summoned every ounce of defiance left in me. "I'm not telling you, not over my dead body, you bastard," I yelled back, my voice hoarse but unwavering. I met his gaze with a steely determination, silently daring him to do his worst.

In the back of my mind, I knew why they were so desperate for information. Their sinister plan revolved around stealing both Emily's power and mine, intending to combine them into a formidable force. With such power at their disposal, they aimed to launch devastating attacks on other islands, expanding their reign of terror. The thought of the destruction they could cause only strengthened my resolve to endure whatever torment Alaric had in store for me. I would protect Emily and thwart their plans, no matter the personal cost.

I saw Alaric pull out a larger knife, its serrated edge glinting menacingly in the dim light of the cell. Just as I braced myself for another excruciating cut, he surprised me by slicing through the thick rope binding my hands. The sudden release of pressure caught me off guard, and I collapsed unceremoniously to the cold, hard ground. Instinctively, I tried to grasp my raw, chafed wrists, seeking some form of comfort or protection. However, Alaric was far from finished with his torment. With a cruel smirk twisting his features, he kicked my hands away forcefully. The unexpected blow sent me sprawling even harder, and I felt a sickening snap in my wrist as it bent at an unnatural angle. Pain exploded through my arm, momentarily eclipsing all other sensations. With one final, vicious kick to my ribs, Alaric turned on his heel and strode out of the cell. The sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut reverberated through the room, a haunting finality to this latest session of torture.

I whimpered softly, curling into a tight ball in a futile attempt to alleviate the waves of pain coursing through my battered body. Every breath sent sharp stabs of agony through my chest, and my broken wrist throbbed relentlessly. The metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth, a grim reminder of the ordeal I had just endured.

"Hope," Reece's voice, thick with concern and unshed tears, broke through the haze of pain. I heard her scrambling across the cell floor, her movements urgent yet careful.

She reached me, her small hands hovering uncertainly over my injuries before gently settling on my back. With utmost care, she began to rub soothing circles, her touch a stark contrast to the brutality I had just experienced. Reece attempted to comfort me, her fingers ghosting over the worst of my wounds as if she could heal them through sheer force of will. But we both knew what I truly needed was blood - the life-giving essence that could mend my broken body far quicker than any human remedy. As she continued her ministrations, I couldn't help but marvel at the bond we had formed over the two hellish months of our imprisonment. Despite the dire circumstances, or perhaps because of them, we had found solace in each other's presence.

"Hope," another voice called out, this time deeper and more familiar. It was Nick, his tone laced with worry and a hint of determination.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I turned my head towards the source of his voice, my vision blurry with unshed tears.

"Reece," Nick instructed, his voice taking on a gentle yet authoritative tone, "help Hope over here. We need to tend to her injuries."

I felt Reece shift beside me, her movements careful yet purposeful. Despite her young age, she displayed a surprising amount of strength - a testament to the resilience she had developed during our captivity. I had been secretly giving her my food rations, knowing that her growing body needed the sustenance more than I did. Now, as she gently lifted my arm over her shoulder, I was grateful for that decision. With painstaking care, she helped me crawl across the cold floor towards Nick's voice. As we neared the cell bars separating us from Nick, he motioned for my injured wrist. Reece, understanding his intent, carefully transferred my arm to Nick's waiting hands.

"Hope," Nick's voice was soft but firm, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of compassion and resolve, "this is going to hurt, but I have to pop your wrist back into place before I can heal you. It's necessary for proper healing."

I nodded weakly, steeling myself for the impending pain. Leaning heavily against the cell bars, I extended my arm through to Nick's side. Reece, ever attentive, lay across me, her small hands moving to stroke my head in a tender attempt to distract me from what was to come.

"3-" Nick began, but I cut him off abruptly. "Don't count," I managed to rasp out, my voice hoarse from screaming. The anticipation would only make it worse.

Bringing my other hand up, I covered my mouth, preparing for the inevitable. Without further warning, Nick reset my wrist with a swift, practiced motion. Despite my best efforts, a muffled cry of pain escaped me, tears streaming down my face unbidden. The agony was intense but mercifully brief.

"There, there, all done," Nick's voice was soothing as he gently massaged the area around my newly reset wrist. "The worst part is over now."