Nathan's POV
I couldn't sleep all night. My mind was consumed by the cruel twist of fate that had turned my life upside down. Just a few hours ago, I was the son of Alpha Steven, privileged, respected, with servants at my beck and call. Now, I was nothing but a slave. A sex slave. A prisoner who could be killed at any moment.
I thought of my father. His brutal death played over and over in my head like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. The pain of losing him was heartbreaking, but so was the bitter truth—I knew he had done terrible things, and perhaps this was karma finally catching up with him. But why me? Why was I the one paying for sins I never committed? I was just a child when he carried out his evil deeds. What did I ever do to deserve this fate?
No. I couldn't accept this.
I had to talk to Derrick. He had to release me. This was insane.
"Guards!" I yelled, grabbing the iron bars of my cell and shaking them violently. "Take me to Alpha Derrick! I want to see him!"
A guard stomped over, irritation written all over his face. "Will you shut up? What's all the noise about?"
"I want to see Alpha Derrick. Take me to him!" I demanded, my voice echoing off the cold stone walls.
"You must be out of your damn mind," he scoffed.
"If you don't take me to him, I'll keep shouting until you do!" I roared, rattling the bars again, my anger boiling over.
The guard gritted his teeth. "You're making a scene!"
"I don't care! I want to see that monster!" I shouted, my voice raw with anger.
The guard cursed under his breath and stalked away, but I didn't stop. I kept yelling, kept screaming, kept slamming my fists against the iron gate until, finally, the same guard returned, a scowl on his face. He unlocked the cell with an irritated sigh.
"Move," he barked.
I stepped out, my legs weak, but I managed to take a step. Two guards flanked me as they led me through the dimly lit corridors toward Derrick's chambers. My heart pounded, not with fear, but with rage. The moment the doors swung open, I stepped inside and found him seated on a couch, a glass of wine in his hand, looking every bit the powerful alpha he was.
"Leave us," he said to the guards without sparing them a glance. They obeyed immediately, shutting the door behind them.
Our eyes met, and I glared at him with nothing but pure hatred. It was hard to believe that this man—the one I once called my brother, the one I once admired—was now my tormentor.
"What is it?" he asked lazily, swirling the wine in his glass. "Why did you demand to see me?"
"Why am I here?" I ground out, stepping closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "I'm innocent. I did nothing to deserve this!"
Derrick arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Are you losing your mind?"
"Yes, I am losing my damn mind!" I snapped. "You're a beast, Derrick! A monster! I mourned you! I cried for you! I wished you were still alive! But now? Now, I regret it. You should have stayed dead!"
His expression darkened. "Watch your mouth, Nathan."
"And if I don't? What will you do? Kill me like you killed my father? Rip my heart out like you did his?" My voice trembled with anger, with anguish. "Go ahead! I'm not afraid of you!"
His jaw tightened, his grip on the glass firm.
"My father should have killed you when he had the chance," I sneered, letting the lie slip from my lips, watching for his reaction.
His eyes flickered with anger, pain, something deeper. I knew I had struck a nerve, but I continued.
"He should have made sure you never took another breath," I spat. "He should have ripped you apart, piece by piece, until nothing was left—"
Derrick was on me in seconds. His hand shot out, gripping my arms so tightly I swore I felt my bones creak. His face was inches from mine, his eyes burning with rage.
"What did you just say?" His voice was dangerously low, the kind that sent chills down a man's spine.
"You heard me," I hissed, my defiance unwavering despite the fear clawing at my gut. "My father should have killed you."
His grip tightened, his body trembling with rage. I could see it in his eyes—he wanted to rip me apart.
"You ungrateful little bastard," he snarled.
"Ungrateful?" I laughed bitterly. "You took everything from me! My father, my freedom, my dignity—" My voice cracked, but I refused to break in front of him. "You are no better than him, Derrick. No. You are worse."
His breath was ragged, his body coiled with anger. With a frustrated growl, he shoved me away, running a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping it as though trying to contain his rage. Then, with a sudden burst of violence, he kicked a side table, sending it crashing into the wall.
"I have been too lenient with you," he seethed, his voice like ice. "Maybe it's time to remind you of the beast you keep calling me."
His next words sent a chill down my spine.
"Guards!"
The doors burst open, and two men stormed in.
"Take him to the water dungeon. Leave him there until morning. If he survives, fine. If he doesn't, throw his body into the forest for the vultures."
The guards seized me roughly. I barely had time to react before they were dragging me toward the door. My body screamed in protest, but I refused to look at Derrick again.
I was dragged to a part of the mansion I had never seen before. It looked like a yard, but something felt different. The air was damp, and the ground was lined with metal cages, each one sunken into the floor.
My heart pounded as the guards pulled me toward one of them. They let go of me and unlocked the gate with a loud clank.
I stepped closer and froze.
Water. The cage was filled with water.
Fear gripped me as I stared at it. The water was dark, and I couldn't tell how deep it was. My breathing became shaky as fear gripped me.
"Will you step in yourself, or should we throw you in?" one of the guards asked, smirking.