Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 65

The little girl is back again. 

This time, she’s curled beneath a massive wooden bedframe, her knees hugged tightly to her chest, just as her mother told her to. Her wide eyes brim with fear, darting toward every shadow. But how long has she been there? 

The room is cloaked in darkness now no sliver of light from the doorway, no warmth from a lantern or candle. Just silence. The kind that makes your chest tighten. 

Her small hands press against her belly as it growls with hunger. She shivers and whispers, “Mum?” But there’s no reply. 

She waits a little longer. Her stomach growls louder this time, and she flinches at the sound. Hunger begins to outweigh fear. 

Slowly, she crawls out from beneath the bed, dust clinging to her clothes. Her bare feet pat softly across the cold floor as she pushes open the door and tiptoes into a hallway that takes my breath away. 

It’s grand–overwhelming, even. Marble stretches from floor to ceiling, polished to such a gleam it reflects her tiny form as she walks. Thick red banners bearing a crest hang from the high ceiling, swaying gently with a breeze she cannot feel. Gold lines the corners, catching the faintest hint of light. It looks like a place meant for royalty… but it feels abandoned. Lonely. 

She wraps her arms around her rumbling stomach. “Mum…” she murmurs again, eyes flicking around lost. “Tom?” she adds, as if calling out to a friend. 

No response. 

Then–yelling. 

Her head snaps toward the large, ornate doors at the far end of the hall. One of them is slightly ajar. Curiosity overtakes fear. She pads toward it, her tiny fingers pressing against the heavy wood as she peeks inside. 

It’s a massive chamber thick with tension. Dozens of people–warriors, elders, nobles–stand in a semi–circle around three imposing thrones at the far end. 

The center throne towers above the rest, almost menacing in size. Someone sits upon it, but his face is hidden in shadow, blurred–like her mind refuses to remember him. 

A voice echoes through the hall, deep and commanding. It sends a chill down her spine. 

“Your Highness, you must make the decision now. For the good of the pack.” 

Then, another voice–strong, yet aching. It cracks something inside me. 

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