Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 16: The Dungeon

Prince Orion's mouth tightens into a thin line. His nostrils flare, just slightly. He doesn't look at me.

Lucy's eyes widen. "You want to see Dad? Don't, Lee, he'll try to make us leave! Jonah went to see him and he's been so quiet ever since. I don't like it, you shouldn't go!"

"Lucy, I need to see him."

I can't tell her why. The ugliest part of me says it's because I want to see him hurt like he hurt me. To see him broken and bruised, beat down into the dust. The most terrified part of me says it's because I need proof.

"I'm not - do - do you want me to go with you," Lucy volunteers angrily, begrudging me for proposing it.

I shake my head at her and try my best at a smile. "I'll be okay."

When I turn my head, I find the Prince looking directly at me, his eyes burning with intensity. I flush and lower my eyes. I didn't ask him for permission first.

"Alpha - "

"I'm coming with you," the Prince states. It sounds more like a command.

A prejudice against doctors was instilled in us by Dad at a fairly young age. Even though I must have been ten before he forbade us from visiting one, I still feel slightly queasy when she walks in, her white lab coat spotless. Lucy leaves as the doctor arrives, looking at her with a glaze of distrust in her eyes.

The doctor helps settle me into a wheelchair, which I think is probably excessive. She doesn't say anything, but her movements are so forced that I can tell she isn't used to patients on wheels.

I'm a slow healer. I should be walking by now, even if I broke my leg yesterday. If I was a normal wolf - so many things would be different. The shame sends a raging blush across my cheeks.

A muffled growl resounds in the Prince's chest when the doctor brushes my elbow and I swallow. The Prince pushes my chair, so close that I can feel his heat. It makes me tense my shoulders. I'd never seen the med wing before, but I can't bring myself to pull my eyes from the ground. As we walk down the medical hallway, a few curious wolves gaze openly at us, but a glare from the Prince sends them rushing away. Soon, we're at the doors of an industrial elevator that I've never seen before.

The doctor leaves us alone, making it feel way more intimate than I signed up for. My breath seems too loud. However, my breathing entirely stills when the doors open.

The first thing we see is guards. They step aside immediately when they recognize who it is. I'm grateful that they're here, really, because it means that I'm not entirely alone with the Prince.

As they move, I drink in the long corridor. It has several hallways branching off of it, leading to more and more cells. I guess, when Lucy said the word "dungeon," I was expecting, like, rats scuttling across dirty floors and coal-black bars that allow any passerby to look in and see filthy prisoners in their scrappy clothes.

This definitely isn't that.

The walls are a steel. The doors are made of a matching steel, so seamless that, for a moment, I don't realize they are there. Guards are stationed at every corner.

I have to remind myself that this isn't a prison. We would have to be insane to keep murderers here, in the same place as our royalty. This, really, only acts as a temporary holding cell for active investigations in our area.

I glance at the walls and my jaw drops. In the shiny material, I can see my warped reflection and it doesn't look good.

The first problem is that half of my face is the reddish purple of a bleeding bruise. My hair is wild and wiry and I pat at it self-consciously. My left leg is a blurry mass of white bandages, so dense that it looks like there is a leg at all. I've felt worse than this, but I've never been abused so . . . visibly.