Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 52: Her inner self

VIOLET – POV

The ropes cut into my wrists.

Rough, coarse strands bound so tight I could barely feel my hands anymore. My ankles were tied too, though loosely enough to let me walk if I was forced to. Which, judging by the bruises blooming down my ribs and the copper taste in my mouth, wouldn’t be out of the question.

The rogues didn’t care about comfort.

I was inside what looked like an abandoned hunter’s cabin deep in the forest. The walls were made of rot-softened wood, patched with rusted metal sheets and holes large enough to see the trees swaying outside. A single lantern swung from a crooked nail in the ceiling, casting flickering shadows that danced across the room like ghosts. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

I didn’t know how long I’d been out.

But the sun was lower than I remembered, and my head throbbed like someone had slammed it with a rock.

Probably because they had.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes for a second. My body ached everywhere. My shoulder burned where I must have landed hard, and there was a cut on my cheek from when I’d tried to fight them off. Wolf had fought too. Gods, I prayed he was okay. He’d been snarling, tearing into one of them right before I blacked out.

And then—

That face.

That last face I saw before the world slipped away.

A man. Tall, broad-shouldered. Clean-cut in a way that didn’t match the wildness around him. His eyes had been too calm for someone surrounded by blood and savagery.

I knew him.

He was the one I’d seen the night before I arrived at Zain’s pack. That night in the woods—before the patrol found me. He was the man who had watched me from the shadows, who had said nothing, just studied me like he knew exactly who I was.

I didn’t know how or why, but something about him had set off every alarm in my body.

And now he had me.

The door creaked open.

I tensed automatically, head snapping up as two rogues stepped inside. One was missing two fingers. The other had a jagged scar running from his jaw to his temple. Neither of them looked particularly pleased to see me conscious.

"Get up," Scarface said.

I didn’t move.

He crossed the room in three strides and yanked me to my feet by my arm. I bit my tongue to hold in the scream. "I said get up, bitch."

"I was up," I snapped. "Your dumbass just did the honors."

His hand raised like he was about to slap me, but the door creaked again—and the man from the woods walked in.

The air changed instantly.

Even the other rogues stepped back.

He was dressed in black—plain black, no insignia or ornament. But his presence felt heavier than any Alpha I’d ever met. His dark eyes locked onto mine with a cool detachment, like he was measuring me, dissecting me with every blink.

"Well, well," he said smoothly, his voice low and measured. "You are awake."

I didn’t answer. He didn’t deserve one.

"You’re probably wondering why we brought you here," he continued, circling me like a predator. "Why not just kill you in the forest. Why take the risk."

"I don’t care," I muttered.

"Oh, but you should," he said, stepping in close—too close. I flinched, but didn’t back away. "You’re worth something, little girl. Something more than even your Alpha knows."

"I’m not his," I said sharply. "And I’m not yours."

He chuckled. "Not yet."

Something in my stomach twisted.

His hand came up and he brushed a strand of hair from my face. I jerked back, but the ropes kept me steady. "Do you know who you are?" he murmured. "Really?"

"I know enough to know you’re a psychopath."

He smiled—slow and wide. "You know nothing."

The air thickened around us like fog. His scent was wrong—tainted somehow, metallic and burnt like rusted iron under fire. My wolf stirred inside me, not in fear, but in warning.

Danger.

"Why me?" I whispered, throat dry. "Why take me?"

"You’ll see soon enough," he said. "But first, I want to know something."

He crouched to my eye level, and the soft smile fell from his lips. "When the Alpha comes for you—and he will—are you going to run to him?"

I didn’t answer.

He reached into his coat and pulled out something small—something silver and glinting.

Roman’s chain.

My heart dropped.

"He dropped it in the forest," the rogue said, voice suddenly full of malice. "Such a clumsy little human. Did you love him?"

I didn’t reply.

He leaned in closer. "Did he kiss you the way Zain does?"

I spat in his face.

He laughed, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

"Oh, you’re going to be fun," he said, standing. "Put her back in the cage. No more food for tonight."

"What about—"

"No," he said sharply. "No more talking to her. No more touching her. Until I say so."

Scarface nodded and yanked me by the arm again, dragging me toward a cage in the corner of the room. I tried to fight, but my strength was fading. My legs felt like jelly. My vision blurred.

They shoved me in and locked it with a loud clank.

I curled into myself, the cold metal digging into my back, and rested my head against the bars.

Zain...

If you don’t find me soon—

I don’t know what they’ll do.

But I know it won’t be good.

The cage reeked of blood and rot.

Every breath I took scraped my throat like sandpaper. I hadn’t had water in hours, and my head still spun from the blow I’d taken earlier. Time passed slowly here—there were no windows, just slivers of moonlight bleeding in through the broken planks.

And the silence...

It stretched on for what felt like days. Until it didn’t.

The door creaked again. I didn’t lift my head—I didn’t need to. The shift in energy told me everything.

They were back.

Scarface and the other one—Missing Fingers. My hands instinctively curled tighter into fists. My wrists throbbed where the rope had rubbed them raw, and my legs ached from being curled up too long in the corner of the cage.

"You awake, little wolf?" Scarface sneered, tapping the bars with the butt of his boot.

I didn’t respond.

They always hated that.

"She’s still got an attitude," Missing Fingers said, crouching to peer at me. "Maybe we should teach her how to behave."

My stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

Scarface unlocked the cage with a harsh clang, the screech of metal on metal scraping through my brain like nails. "Come on, sunshine," he said. "Your boyfriend’s taking his sweet time. Let’s see how much pretty he left in you."

I launched myself at him.

It was stupid—reckless—but I didn’t care. I managed to slam my shoulder into his gut before he backhanded me so hard I hit the wall behind me. My vision sparked white, and for a moment, I tasted blood and metal.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

"Feisty," he growled, dragging me out of the cage. I kicked, clawed—anything—but my body was too weak, and they were too strong.

The punches came fast after that.

To the ribs. The stomach. One to the side of my face that made my ears ring and my jaw go numb.

"Stop—" I tried, but my voice cracked. A boot landed against my shin, and I cried out as I crumpled to the floor.

Still, I wouldn’t scream. I wouldn’t beg.

I wouldn’t give them that.

"Alpha says don’t touch her too much," Scarface muttered between hits. "But he didn’t say we couldn’t teach her a lesson."

Missing Fingers grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, sneering down at me. "Where’s your Alpha now, huh? Where’s the mighty Zain?"

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I spat blood in his face.

He kicked me in the stomach.

Hard.

The air rushed from my lungs as I curled into myself, coughing, gasping. A red haze coated my vision, and the wooden floor under me blurred.

"Enough!" a voice barked.

They froze.

I heard boots crunching on the floorboards, measured and sure. Then the Alpha—their Alpha—was there. The leader with the calm voice and eyes like frozen stone.

I could barely lift my head to look at him.

He crouched beside me, tilting his head as if inspecting a piece of art. "Now that," he said softly, "was not what I told you to do."

"She—she attacked us first—"

He held up a hand. One finger.

Silence.

The two rogues didn’t dare breathe.

Then, just as softly, he said, "Out."

They obeyed instantly, nearly falling over themselves to get to the door. It slammed behind them with a gust of wind.

He turned back to me.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a small cloth, dabbing gently at the blood on my cheek.

I flinched.

"You’re stronger than I thought," he murmured. "Even after all that."

"I’ve had worse," I muttered hoarsely, even though I hadn’t. Not even close.

His eyes narrowed slightly, curious.

"Why are you doing this?" I rasped. "What do you want from me?"

He tilted his head again. "You still don’t know, do you?"

"Know what?"

He stood, looking down at me with that same unreadable expression. "You will," he said simply. "Soon."

And with that, he walked away—leaving me alone, broken, bleeding, and more confused than ever.

The door shut behind him.

The silence returned.

Only now, it felt heavier.

This wasn’t just a random rogue camp.

This was something else.

They knew who I was.

Or worse—

They knew something I didn’t.