Destined for Disaster ✔️

Chapter 4

Ryleigh had attended a Reconciliation Day once, but it was a different experience altogether now she was on the other side of the bars.

It had started at the crack of dawn, though long before that, she'd heard the masses gathering outside. She wished to have a window to be able to look through; not being able to keep an eye on things was making her more paranoid than she already was. The blend of loud voices had kept her awake all through the night, which pissed her off even though she didn't usually sleep much anyway.

Very early in the morning, before their usual time, they were fed, though after a few hours her plate was removed without her having touched it. A short while after that, the doors were opened. Sounds ricocheted all throughout the old building. Chattering, crying, howling, footsteps – at times it sounded almost like an invading army. She entertained herself a while with the idea that maybe it was, and hoped that they'd burn the prison down, preferably with her still in it. But no such luck.

The only upside to being kept in block F was that most people had already given up by then. She tried to keep track of the amount of people trickling by her cell, but she lost count early on. Or rather lost interest. Everyone that passed stared at her as though she was a fascinating attraction put on show for their entertainment. The wolves in the cells surrounding gladly performed, pacing in their cells, sticking close to the bars in case anyone would make the mistake of coming too close. Ryleigh didn't bother with such theatrics.

She was exhausted. From hunger, from being silvered, from despair. Huddled in the darkest corner of her cell, she waited for it to end. For a while, the obnoxious visitors served as a distraction. She lay with her head on her front paws and watched them move past, glimpsing at her and deciding instantly that she wasn't worth the trouble.

Throughout the month that she'd been there, she hadn't seen many people apart from fellow prisoners, guards and the occasional royal or councillor intent on figuring out if she'd been sent to murder them all. They might as well have stayed away – they'd made up their minds before they'd even seen her. She wouldn't mind living up to their expectations, if they would only give her the chance. There were days where the thought of ripping the king's throat out was the only thing that kept her sane. Well, 'sane' was probably an exaggeration. In any case, there was a certain comfort in seeing other faces. At least for the first hour. It got tedious very quickly, and she was too tired to bear it and too on edge to sleep.

She wasn't exactly sure what time it was – another consequence of not having any windows – but it must have been near the end of the day when it happened. Safe to say that wasn't how she imagined meeting her mate would go. Like any wolf, she had fantasised about it a little, but really, she'd set the bar pretty low. She was no romantic; she didn't need a full moon and background music and the world to stop for one divine moment as fate unfolded in the most cliché, dramatized explosion of emotion. Still, did she have to meet him while locked up in prison and tortured half to death? So much for first impressions.

His scent hit her first. He smelled like pine and the forest after rain – two of her favourite smells. It made her wonder if he smelled like that because she loved those smells or if she loved those smells because he smelled like that. Either way, his smell hit her and it hit her hard.

Her heart raced in her chest and her wolf, normally calm and collected, was spiralling and making her head throb. A shiver ran down the length of her spine and she shook her head, hoping that the rushing of blood in her ears would stop. She sat up, her paws trembling – though she told herself that it was a result of starvation, and surely not because her mate was approaching. Not wanting to give anything away, she stayed in her corner, waiting for him to come to her. After what felt like three lifetimes, he did.