The Lost Queen

Chapter Seven

Daya's P.O.V

Peace.

I hadn't felt this much peace in what seemed like forever. My body, usually a vessel of pain and torment, was still and calm. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but it felt like my entire being was rebooting. My muscles were weightless, my thoughts muted, and for once, I felt safe in the silence.

Several times, I tried to wake, but my eyelids felt like they were sealed shut, resisting my efforts. Although I couldn't see, I could hear.

Kaden.

He was always there. His voice would crack with emotion as he whispered to me, his hand holding mine like a lifeline. Sometimes, he'd plead for me to wake up. Other times, he'd murmur apologies, his words trembling with guilt. Each time he touched me, an electric shiver rippled through my body, a reminder that I was still alive.

But even in this fragile peace, my mind betrayed me. Unwanted memories surfaced, haunting me. They played like a cruel film, dragging me back into the shadows I'd tried so hard to escape.

One memory, the worst of them all, came flooding back with sharp clarity:

It was Alpha Ryan's 18th birthday—the day he was supposed to find his mate.

For most werewolves, the discovery of a mate at 17 or 18 was a joyous occasion, a rite of passage. But for me, it marked a descent into something far darker.

The day had been a blur of preparations. I spent hours setting up tables in the backyard, just as Alpha Ryan had instructed. No chairs—everyone was expected to be up dancing. I'd been tasked with personally inviting all the school's wolves, a duty that often ended with harsh words or outright humiliation. Of course, humans weren't allowed.

By 7:00 PM, the party was in full swing. The music thumped loudly, and the backyard pulsed with energy. I wasn't allowed to attend the celebration, but I was still required to serve the guests. Drunken wolves demanded snacks and drinks, and I weaved through the sweaty, grinding bodies, fulfilling their every whim.

Finally, Alpha Ryan dismissed me. I was allowed to return to the basement, my "room."

When I opened the door, he was already there, waiting. He was waiting for me, leaning against the wall, his icy blue eyes burning with a storm I could feel in my chest. The sharp tang of alcohol hit me before anything else, and I knew. I knew this wasn't going to end well. The air between us crackled with something dark, something volatile.

The sight of him sent a chill down my spine. His eyes burned with anger, and I knew what that meant: I was about to become his punching bag again.

"Yes, Alpha?" I whispered, bowing my head in submission. A pit opened in my stomach, an instinctual fear bubbling to the surface.

"You know, out of all the people at that party, I didn't find my mate," he sneered, swirling a beer bottle in his hand. 

His fingers twisted the neck of a half-empty beer bottle, his knuckles whitening with the tension in his grip. Without warning, he threw it at me. The bottle flew through the air with a sharp whistle, and I barely had time to react before it crashed against the wall behind me, shards of glass exploding outward. 

Instinctively, I ducked, the bottle shattering against the wall behind me. But before I could fully comprehend what was happening, Ryan was on me, pinning me to the ground. He was faster than I could anticipate, his weight pinning me to the cold, unforgiving floor. The sharp pain in my back made me gasp, but it was nothing compared to the terror that clawed at my chest. I thrashed beneath him, trying to break free, but it was useless. His grip was unrelenting, like a predator who had finally caught its prey.