Chapter 97
Georgia didn’t utter a single plea. She knew Weston too well, His mind was made up. No amount of tears or begging would ever sate his thirst for vengeance. He wanted to watch her crawl.
Slowly, she sank onto her knees, glass crunching beneath her weight with a quiet, cruel crackle. Pain flared as shards bit deep into her skin, piercing through her jeans and scraping raw against bone. A tremor rippled down her arms, but she set her palms on the cold floor anyway and began to crawl forward.
Each movement drove splinters deeper, sending white–hot jolts of agony up her legs. Her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. The taste of blood gathered on her tongue as she bit down hard to stop herself from whimpering.
Charlotte lunged forward, her eyes wide with horror. “Stop, Georgia! Please, stop-”
But before she could reach her, a heavy hand gripped her shoulder and shoved her back. The Gamma of Wynne Pack loomed over her, his voice calm and menacing. “Charlotte, stay put. Watch quietly. You don’t want to upset Mr. Merrick more than he already is. Unless you want to see her suffer worse.”
His tone left no room for argument. Charlotte’s body trembled with helpless fury, but she forced herself to remain still. Her nails dug crescent moons into her palms as she fought back tears.
“My boss will be furious when he finds out about this,” she snapped through clenched teeth.
The Gamma chuckled, amusement glittering in his cold eyes. Weston tilted his head slightly, his smile sharp and mocking “Your boss? Who is he, Charlotte? Tell me. Who owns Vetro Club? If he’s angry, let him come. Let him know exactly what we did here tonight.”
He knew, just as everyone else in the room knew, that the mysterious owner of Vetro Club was a werewolf too. But Weston didn’t care. Whoever it was wouldn’t risk their power or resources for a ruined she–wolf like Georgia.
In Gabbs, the Wynne Pack and Lennox’s pack held enough power to crush most opponents underfoot. Only the Dark Spike Pack rivalled them–and even then, if their packs joined forces, there was no one who would dare stand in their way.
Georgia was only five short steps from Weston’s polished leather shoes, but each inch felt like a lifetime. Sweat poured down her temples, soaking her hair and dripping onto the blood–smeared glass beneath her. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. Every crawl forward sent shooting pains from her knees up to her chest, her heart clenching tighter each time.
She forced herself to look up at Weston. The room spun slightly, but she kept her gaze locked on him. His lips curved into
a vicious sneer.
“Keep crawling,” he barked. “Don’t you want the money? Move faster.”
The room erupted with murmurs and quiet, gleeful laughter. Their eyes burned holes into her body, urging her forward with silent demands.
Charlotte tried to scream again, but a rough hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her desperate sobs. Georgia could hear their voices, sharp with sadistic excitement. Their cruel words clanged against her ears, but she refused to bend her
back.
‘Almost there,” she told herself, chest burning. Just a little more. Then I can leave with the money. Just a little more…”
Her heart twisted with a grief so sharp it left her breathless. She should have felt triumphant for eaming the hundred thousand dollars she needed. Instead, all she felt was the jagged pain of losing everything that once made her human.
Under their gleeful gazes, she lowered her head and forced herself to crawl between Weston’s legs. Humiliation burned through her body like acid.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and memory flooded her mind with blinding force.
She was back in the prison showers. The rank stench of mildew and blood. The echo of laughter bouncing off the concrete walls. They had lined up, those other she wolves, forcing her to crawl beneath their legs. Some spat on her. Others kicked her sides. And the cruelest among them–she felt bile rise in her throat as she remembered–had pissed on
her as she crawled.
If she refused, they turned the water pressure guns on her. Ice–cold water, powerful enough to tear skin, ripping into her
<Chapter 97
body until she thought her bones would splinter from the impact. It didn’t matter if it was winter or summer. torture her until she broke.
They would
Her body trembled violently as her mind tore back to the present. Her chest tightened until her vision flickered black at the edges. She didn’t know how she reached the other side, only that suddenly she was there, shaking, with blood dripping down her shins.
“Everyone look! Lennox’s voice cut through the thick silence, sharp with mockery. “Look at the legendary Georgia Cooper from Silver Stream Pack, crawling like a fucking worm for a hundred grand.”
“Take pictures!” someone shouted, voice shrill with excitement. “Take as many as you can! I can’t wait to post them everywhere!”
“No…” Georgia whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. Her head snapped up, hair falling over her bruised face. “Don’t take photos. Please. Don’t.”
“Why not?” another voice sneered. “Do you still think you’re the Alpha’s daughter or something?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock. Until that moment, she hadn’t known who Georgia really was. Alpha’s blood…? she thought in disbelief. How did she end up like this…?
Georgia’s hands shook violently as the camera lenses pointed at her, each flash like a blade slicing into her dignity. Her breath came in shallow gasps. “Please… no photos please…
“Did you hear that?” someone cackled. “She’s begging! Miss Cooper is begging!”
The room erupted with vicious laughter, the sound drowning out the desperate sobs tearing from Georgia’s throat. Her vision spun. Tears blurred her eyes. She shook her head violently, hair whipping her face.
“No photos no photos… please, just leave me alone… Her words dissolved into a low, incoherent mumble as her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch any longer.
Lennox’s shadow fell over her. He held a bottle of deep amber liquor and crouched until his smirking face
e was i
inches from
hers. “You don’t want photos? Then drink this,” he said coldly, shaking the bottle in front of her eyes. “Finish it, and we won’t take photos. Do you remember when you forced Giselle to drink an entire bottle of whiskey, Miss Cooper? Did you see this coming back then?”
Georgia stared at him, humb with shock. “I forced Giselle to drink? Her voice trembled with confusion. The words felt foreign in her mouth. She had never forced Giselle to do anything, let alone something so cruel.
Lennox’s lips curled into a snarl. “Stop pretending. You were jealous. You tricked her into drinking it all. You think no one saw, huh?”
She shook her head slowly, a sick feeling rolling through her gut. “You’re wrong….I didn’t…”
His eyes blazed with hatred. “Don’t lie to me! Giselle was so drunk she could barely stand when I found her staggering down the road. She could’ve been killed if I hadn’t been there. Are you saying I imagined it? That Giselle lied to me?”
Georgia’s stomach twisted into knots. Giselle… drunk… stumbled into Lennox’s arms? Her mind spun with confusion and dread.
“Did Giselle tell you that?” she asked softly, her voice distant and broken.
Lennox snarled, his rage barely contained. “You’re disgusting. You pretended to be her best friend while stabbing her in the back. How do you explain the bruises on her arms and thighs, huh?”
Her eyes closed slowly. Exhaustion and grief lined every feature of her face. Her body sagged, heavy with a pain deeper than flesh.
“So that’s what you all think of me,” she whispered. “That I bullied her…”
Three years. Three years locked in darkness, forced to replay every moment, every conversation, every tear–streaked memory. At first she’d clung desperately to her innocence, trying to find proof, to make sense of the nightmare.
< Chapter 97
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But as the years ground her down, clarity had come with brutal precision. She saw everything for what it was. Every ugly truth. Every lie she’d once believed. And now, the
re was nothing left but the raw ache of knowing none of it mattered.
