Charles' POV:
The metallic scent of blood overwhelmed my senses.
A harsh tug yanked me up, my arms tightly bound to a rope, suspending my body downward. Every breath sent waves of pain coursing through my bones. I felt like my skeleton was splintering with each inhale.
“Crack!” A whip snapped through the air as a guard approached, followed by two more. They surrounded me in a triangle, each gripping a whip with cold, sadistic intent.
On any other day, three guards would be nothing, but now, drained of energy and undoubtedly drugged with aconite, I was powerless. My wolf was too weak to stir—I could hardly sense his presence, let alone shift. I had no choice but to brace myself as they raised their whips.
I clenched my jaw, trying to stifle the sounds of pain escaping my lips.
“Ah!”
One of the guards leaned closer, sneering, “Still kicking, huh?”
I shook blood-soaked hair out of my eyes and glared at him. “If this is your best shot, you’re just giving me a tickle!”