Morning came late.
The pack slept beneath a sky that looked bruised, grey clouds swollen with heat, the air heavy with the stench of smoke and rain that refused to fall.
The silence was almost holy. Almost.
Then came the scream.
Elira jolted upright, gasping as boiling water splashed across her chest and arms. Steam hissed in the air, her skin blistering instantly.
She didn't even have time to speak before a voice followed—cold, precise, unhurried.
"Rise, Elira."
Liora stood in the doorway of her hut, a silver basin still steaming in her hands. Her eyes were calm. Her expression empty. Only her power rippled faintly around her, the air shimmering with restrained violence.
Elira's breath came in ragged sobs. "My—my Alpha, please…"
"Today," Liora said quietly, setting the basin aside, "is your punishment day."
