Chapter 524
Evaline:
I had braced myself for something ugly.
But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me when the dungeon door closed behind me with a hollow thud.
The cell was steeped in darkness, the kind that clung to the skin. Only a single candle burned on a small wooden table in the far corner, its weak flame flickering as if even it was tired of being here. Shadows crawled along the stone walls, stretching and bending, swallowing most of the room whole.
And in the middle of it all sat Marcus.
Chained to a chair.
My breath caught.
He looked… smaller. Not physically – he was still broad-shouldered, still built like a warrior – but something about him seemed shrunk inward. His posture was stiff, his head slightly bowed, his wrists bound behind the chair with thick restraints made of silver. His clothes were rumpled, stained, torn in places.
Thoroughly investigated, indeed.
The moment the door shut, he looked up.
Our gazes collided.
Confusion flickered across his face first, sharp and immediate. Then fear crept in, slow and unmistakable, tightening his features as he took me in… my clothes, my stance, the way I stood there unflinching in his hell.
For a long second, neither of us moved.
I studied him openly, my eyes adjusting to the dimness, cataloguing details without mercy.
And he watched me like a cornered animal, clearly trying to figure out who I was… and why I was here.
I took a step closer.
He flinched.
Not subtly. Not guardedly.
He recoiled… shoulders tensing, breath hitching, his body pulling back against the chair as if he expected pain to follow my movement.
I froze.
Just for a second.
Something twisted uncomfortably in my chest, sharp and unexpected.
I hadn’t meant to scare him.
Slowly, deliberately, I closed the distance between us. I reached for the only other chair in the room, its legs scraping loudly against the stone floor as I dragged it closer and placed it directly in front of him.
Then I sat.
Marcus’s eyes never left me.
I wasn’t afraid of him. Not even for a moment. River had made sure he was secured well enough that even the strongest wolf wouldn’t break free. The silver chains, the bindings… they were thorough. Professional.
Letting out a quiet breath, I leaned forward slightly and let my eyes roam over him.
He wasn’t broken beyond recognition. Not beaten bloody. But he had clearly taken hits.
A cut marred his brow, crusted and red. His cheek bore a fresh scrape, his lower lip split. Bruises bloomed along his bare arms – dark purples and sickly yellows – while scratches traced angry lines across his skin. His wrists were the worst of it… raw, bruised, bleeding in places where silver had bitten into flesh.
And I could feel it.
Whatever they were feeding him… it wasn’t normal.
Something laced into his meals suppressed his wolf, dulled its healing.
I sighed softly and raised my hand toward his face.
He flinched again, sharp and instinctive, his breath stuttering as he turned his head away.
I stopped immediately.
“Relax,” I said quietly, my voice calm. “I’m not here to hurt you p>
He hesitated.
Then… slowly… his shoulders loosened just a fraction.
It was enough.
I reached out again, gently brushing his hair aside to get a better look at the cut on his brow. It wasn’t deep. Painful, yes… but manageable. My fingers were careful, precise, as I examined him piece by piece.
His cheek was scraped but it had already started to scab. His lip was split. His arms were bruised and scratched from places. His wrists were even worse.
And then there was his left shoulder.
The way he held it unnaturally still. The subtle tremor in his muscles every time he shifted.
It was clearly dislocated.
“Idiot,” I murmured under my breath.
When I finished assessing him, I stood abruptly and walked to the door. Pulling it open, I met River’s stare head-on.
“I need a first aid kit,” I said, and watched him arch one of his eyebrows before he dropped a very expected – “No p>
I didn’t even blink. “Then I’ll heal him myself p>
That got his attention.
His eyes widened just a fraction. “Eva p>
“You either give me the kit,” I cut in coolly, “or I use my power. Your choice p>
For a heartbeat, he just stared at me. Then his gaze slid past me… over my shoulder… and landed on Marcus.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
I felt Marcus flinch behind me.
I shot River a warning look, sharp and unyielding.
He exhaled slowly, clearly displeased, before signaling to a nearby warrior. “Get the kit p>
Satisfied, I closed the door and returned to my seat.
Marcus watched me the entire time. Not with fear now. But with confusion. Like a lost child watching an adult bend the rules of the world he thought he understood.
The warrior returned within minutes. I took the kit without a word and set to work immediately.
The next stretch of time passed in quiet efficiency.
I cleaned his cuts carefully, applied herbal solution that stung but healed, wrapped his wrists to protect them from further damage. Marcus barely made a sound, his jaw clenched, eyes following every movement of my hands.
When it came time to fix his shoulder, I paused.
“I need to untie you,” I said evenly.
His eyes widened. “You are… not afraid I’ll run p>
I didn’t even look at him as I loosened the restraints. “You can try p>
Something flickered across his face… something like disbelief.
He didn’t move.
Not when his hands were free. Not when pain etched lines into his face as I reset his shoulder with a swift, practiced motion. He hissed, breath shuddering, but he stayed right where he was.
Obedient.
When I tied his hands again – this time in front of him, looser, more humane – he didn’t resist.
When I finished, I packed up the kit and stood.
I turned toward the door.
“Wait p>
His voice stopped me.
I turned back slowly, meeting his gaze. He looked… different now. Less afraid. More uncertain. Vulnerable in a way I hadn’t expected… but wanted. Needed.
I didn’t ask why he stopped me. I simply waited.
His fingers tightened around the chain binding his wrists, his knuckles whitening. “Can we… talk p>