CHAPTER 3

Isabella’s POV

When I regained consciousness, I felt as though the air had been sucked from my lungs. The dungeon walls seemed to close in around me, suffocating and oppressive. The other girls huddled together, their tear-streaked faces mirroring my own terror.

The woman who had introduced herself as Octavia lingered near the door, her piercing blue eyes sweeping over us like a predator surveying its prey.

“Where am I?” I whispered, my voice shaking.  One of the other girls glanced at me, her expression grim.

“Hell’s pit,” she muttered.

The words sent a shiver down my spine. I had heard rumors of this place before—rumors of an underworld where humanity ceased to exist. A place where men fought to the death and women became little more than property.

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of what was happening. How I had ended up here? And then it hit me.

Draco.

My uncle’s cold smile flashed in my mind, the syringe in his hand, his cruel words ringing in my ears.

“You’re mine, Isabella. You’ll always be mine.” I clenched my fists, her nails digging into my palms as the realization sank in. He had sold me. To the devil’s underworld. I thought I could escape the hell I lived in, only to be thrown into Hell’s pit.

Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to cry. I had already shed too many tears for a man who cared nothing for me. Instead, anger bubbled to the surface, mixing with despair. How could he do this to me? How could anyone?

The sound of the iron door screeching open snapped me out of my thoughts. Octavia entered, her heels clicking against the stone floor. Behind her were two burly guards, their cold expressions making it clear they were not to be trifled with.

“On your feet,” Octavia commanded, her voice sharp.

I and the other girls hesitated, fear rooting us in place, but the guards took a menacing step forward, and we were forced to comply. I stood slowly, my legs trembling beneath me.

Octavia led us out of the dungeon and into a dimly lit corridor. The air was damp and heavy, the walls lined with torches that cast flickering shadows. We were herded into a large, open room that resembled an auction house. A long table stood at the front, and behind it sat several figures shrouded in darkness.

“Assessment begins now,” Octavia announced, her tone clipped.

I watched as one by one, they were brought forward. Each of them asked a series of questions—name, age, and pack affiliation. When the answers were deemed satisfactory, they were escorted to the side, where a guard handed them a black band to wear around our wrists.

When it was my turn, I stepped forward hesitantly, my heart pounding.

“Name?” Octavia asked, barely glancing up from her clipboard.

“Isabella Rossi,” I replied, my voice shaking.

“Age?”

“Eighteen.”

“Pack?”  The question hit me like a slap.

“I don’t have one,” I whispered. Octavia’s gaze snapped, her icy blue eyes narrowing.

“Where’s your wolf?”  I froze, unsure of how to answer.

“I... I don’t have one,” I admitted, shame washing over me.

The room fell silent, the weight of my words settling over everyone present.

“A wolfless omega,” Octavia said, her voice laced with disdain. “How pathetic.” She scribbled something on her clipboard before addressing me directly. “Do you know what we do with girls like you here?”

I shook my head, fear gripping me.

“Breeders,” Octavia said coldly. “That’s all you’re good for. Your body belongs to Hell’s pit now. You’ll carry the offspring of whoever we choose, whenever we choose. Consider yourself lucky to even have a purpose here.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Breeder. The term echoed in my mind, a cruel reminder of just how little my life meant in this place. I couldn’t accept my fate, a breeder for the men I know nothing of.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “No, I won’t—”

“You don’t have a choice,” Octavia interrupted, her tone final. “Your fate is sealed.”  Octavia turned away, signaling for the next girl, but my world had already crumbled. I stumbled to the side, my knees threatening to give out.

As the rest of the assessments continued, my mind spiraled. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t live like this. I would be better off dead than to allow myself be thrown to the wolves who will have my body as they please.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything I could use. My gaze landed on a scalpel left carelessly on a nearby table.

Without thinking, I grabbed it and fled down the corridor, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I found a small alcove and collapsed onto the floor, clutching the scalpel in my trembling hands.

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the sharp blade. If my life was no longer my own, then I would take it back—on my own terms.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to my parents I had lost, to the life I would never have. I raised the scalpel to my wrist, but before I could press it to my skin, a hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” a deep voice growled.

I looked up to see a tall, muscular man with dark eyes and a tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirt collar.

His grip was firm but not painful, and his expression was unreadable.

“Who are you?” I asked weakly.

“Carlos,” he said simply. “And you’re making a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” I snapped, fresh tears spilling over. “I don’t want to live like this.”  Carlos sighed, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“You think this will solve anything? Octavia will make sure your suffering doesn’t end, even in death.”  His words sent a chill down my spine. Before I could respond, he grabbed the scalpel from my hand and tossed it aside.

“Get up,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.  He hauled me to my feet and led me back to the main hall. Octavia was waiting, her icy gaze locking onto me the moment I entered.

“So, you thought you could escape your fate?” Octavia sneered. “How foolish.”

Without warning, she snapped her fingers, and two guards grabbed me by the arms, dragging me forward.

“No, please!” I cried, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.

The guards forced me to my knees, and Octavia picked up a leather whip.

“This is your first lesson,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Your body and soul belong to Hell’s pit now. You don’t get to choose. You don’t even get to die none of you are allowed to.”

The first crack of the whip tore through the air, followed by a searing pain across my back. I bit down on my lips to keep me from screaming, but the tears came freely.

By the time Octavia was done, my body was broken, and my spirit felt shattered. I was dragged back to the dungeon and thrown inside, my wounds stinging as I hit the cold stone floor.

Lying there in the darkness, my heart filled with despair.

Hell’s pit had taken everything from me—my freedom, my dignity, and now even my will to fight.