The crack of the whip split the air, followed by a small, pain-filled cry that tore from my throat. I’d stepped in front of Freddie, shielding my little brother from the blow meant for him. One of the pack warriors, whip in hand, glanced past me to Freddie, then fixed his cold eyes on me.

"He's six years old. He didn't mean to…" I was cut off by another loud crack, and a stinging sensation exploded on my cheek. My hand flew up, and I saw a line of blood coating my fingers. My face was bleeding.

"Do you wish to make this a public punishment?" he sneered. My back, already a roadmap of scars, screamed in protest at the thought of more. Two months ago, the last one had taken weeks to heal. I didn't want another.

"He meant no disrespect, he was just playing, please. He's a child, would you really stoop so low as to..." Another crack, and his whip bit into my arm. I winced, then my eyes shot open as the Lycan's fist connected with my jaw.

I stumbled backward, spitting blood, my head bowing in submission. Anything to save Freddie. I felt his small hands clutch my top, fear clouding his irises.

"To the courtyard!" My head snapped up, eyes wide.

"Run home and lock the doors! Stay with mom!" I whispered to Freddie before two wolves seized my arms, dragging me away. I twisted my head slightly, catching sight of Freddie's fleeing form heading toward our house in the human district. A faint smile touched my lips, knowing he was safe. Then fear clouded me as I was hauled toward the courtyard, to the stupid stage where my wrists were fastened to a post, a leather strap forced into my mouth to bite on.