The Sinner's Return: Claimed By The Vengeful Alpha

Kira Hayes POV:

Because he believed I tried to murder his first love, Isabelle, my fated mate, Dorian, personally threw me into a silver-lined dungeon to rot for five whole years.

That day still haunts me like a suffocating nightmare.

In the dream, his large, hot hand traced the curve of my bare shoulder. The intoxicating scent of cedar and freezing rain wrapped around me. Mate. My inner wolf whimpered in pure submission. I leaned into his touch, my heart pounding as the room temperature seemed to rise. His lips brushed mine, a tender, breathless promise that made me believe I was finally loved.

But the illusion shattered with a deafening crash.

The bedroom door was kicked open. Pack elders and warriors flooded in, their eyes filled with fury and disgust.

Instead of shielding me, Dorian pulled away, leaving me shivering and barely covered by a thin sheet. I was exposed, stripped of my dignity, and humiliated before the entire pack.

The accusations rained down on me like poisonous arrows. "Look at her! The vicious, spoiled brat!" "She couldn't stand the Alpha favoring a sweet Omega, so she resorted to murder!" "She killed our most valiant warrior and left poor Isabelle in a coma! She deserves to die!"

The people who used to flatter me now spat at my feet. The people who used to fear me now condemned me.

I looked up at Dorian, shaking, desperately hoping he would pull me into his arms and tell them it was all a misunderstanding. But his ice-blue eyes held no warmth, only a pure, incinerating hatred.

He grabbed me roughly and personally locked the searing silver shackles onto my wrists. The metal burned my flesh, but it was his voice that destroyed my soul.

"Traitor," he growled, the Alpha command forcing me to my knees. "You will rot in The Pit for what you did."

"No!" I jolted upright, my eyes snapping open to the heavy, moldy ceiling of the underground prison.

I gasped for air, cold sweat soaking my ragged clothes. The searing pain on my wrists dragged me back to the present. I looked down at the ugly, puckered scars. The silver shackles had been a permanent fixture for five years, keeping my wolf suppressed and broken.

"Hey! Traitor!"

A harsh voice snapped me out of my daze. Two female rogue prisoners, my cellmates, loomed over me.

"Still dreaming about the Alpha?" one of them sneered, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. "He threw you in here for his precious first love, exposed you like a cheap whore, and you still dare to love him?"

I gritted my teeth. Despite the silver burning my skin, despite the endless isolation, the mate-bond inside me was a stubborn, pathetic curse that defied all logic.

"Yes," I whispered, blood tasting metallic on my tongue. "I still love him."

What followed was a brutal rain of kicks and punches. I curled into a ball on the cold, damp floor, taking the blows silently. I refused to beg. I refused to cry out.

Only when I was on the brink of passing out, my vision going black, did the sharp whistle of a guard finally stop them.

Day after day. Year after year. This was my atonement.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping right in front of my iron door.

I instinctively shrank back, pressing myself against the damp wall like a cornered animal. Was it time for another round of "questioning"?

The heavy door scraped open. Officer Hicks stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"Kira Hayes," his flat voice broke the silence.

I held my breath, waiting for my death sentence. That would be a relief.

"Your sentence has been terminated early," he said. "You're free to go. Gather your things."