Chapter FIFTY

Lusia Four days had passed since that night in the bath, and in those four days, I had ceased to exist. Or at least, the version of me that once held onto fleeting hopes and the warmth of stolen moments. King Dane had ensured it. From the moment I opened my eyes each morning, my body was forced through relentless training. The soreness in my muscles never had a chance to fade before I was being pushed again—faster, harder, longer. My body ached constantly, but I never complained. I had learned quickly that complaints meant nothing to him. He gave no mercy, no soft words, no acknowledgment of my pain. But it wasn’t just the training. Everywhere he went, I was expected to follow. He never left me behind, never let me out of his sight. Even when he traveled beyond the pack’s borders, I was brought along—only to be confined within a room, waiting in silence until he was finished with his business. There were no stolen glances, no shared moments of quiet understanding. Just his orders. And