My Wolf 51

Posted by AdminHHAdmin, ? Views, Released on April 27, 2025

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Chapter 51: Shadows of the Dungeon

Chapter 51. Shadows of the Dungeon

(Olivia’s POV)

Ethan’s grip was like iron around my wrist, his fingers digging painfully into my skin as he dragged me across the living room of Rosewood Haven. My struggles were futile against his superior strength. I felt like a broken doll helpless and small in the face of his rage.

“Let me gol” I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt. “You have no right to handle me this way!

His pace never slowed, his amber eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to even look at me

f you truly believe I’m guilty, send me to the police I shouted, hoping to appeal to whatever sense of justice might remain in him. “Let them investigate properly!”

That finally got a reaction. Ethan stopped abruptly, turning to face me with eyes that had darkened to the color of burnt honey

“Shut up!” he snarled, his voice vibrating with barely contained fury. “You want the police involved? So you can manipulate the system again? So you can escape proper justice?”

His accusation struck me like a physical blow. What system had I ever manipulated? When had I ever escaped justice?

“You’re so fearless because you think my grandmother will protect you,” he continued, his grip tightening further. “Just like before.”

Understanding dawned, cold and bitter. He thought I was confident because his grandmother would shield me from consequences, just as he blindly sided with Victoria. The realization stung, despite my attempts to harden my heart against his betrayal.

1 bit my lip, fighting back tears of frustration. With my free hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. James would help me. He always did.

Before I could even unlock the screen, Ethan snatched the device from my hand. He powered it off with a decisive click and tossed it carelessly onto the sofa.

“Ethan, what do you want?” I demanded, struggling to keep my voice steady despite my trembling body. My eyes burned with unshed tears of anger and fear.

He didn’t answer, Instead, he pulled me toward a door I hadn’t noticed before, tucked away in a corner of the room. With a swift motion, he flung it open, revealing a yawning darkness beyond.

My heart stopped. A basement. Dark and forbidding, with stone steps disappearing into blackness.

My entire body went cold with recognition and terror. Not again. Not this.

“Ethan, no!” I pleaded, digging my heels into the floor, fighting his pull with every ounce of strength | possessed. “Don’t lock me in there, I…

My voice broke as memories flooded back–Eleanor’s cruel smile as she’d shoved me into this very basement years ago, the scratching of tiny claws in the darkness, my own screams echoing off stone walls.

Chante 51 Stacka

“I didn’t do anything wrong” I cried, my composure shattering completely “Please, I’m innocent!”

Ethan’s face remained impassive, unmoved by my terror. “You need time to reflect on your mistakes,” he said coldly. “To understand what you’ve done wrong”

With a powerful shove, he pushed me through the doorway I stumbled on the top step, barely catching myself against the wall to avoid tumbling down the stairs.

Before I could turn around, the heavy door slammed shut behind me. The sound of the bolt sliding into place was like a death knell.

“Ethan!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the unyielding wood. Please! Don’t leave me here!”

Silence was my only answer

i pressed my ear against the door, straining to hear any sound from the other side. Nothing. He had walked away, leaving me trapped in my worst nightmare.

My breathing quickened, shallow gasps that did little to fill my lungs. The darkness pressed in around me, absolute and suffocating. I fumbled along the wall, desperately searching for a light switch.

My fingers found it, and I flipped it up and down frantically. Nothing happened. The power had been cut. Hope drained from me like blood from a wound. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the top step, my knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

“Help!” I screamed, knowing it was futile. “Please, someone help me!”

The thick walls absorbed my cries, swallowing them into nothingness. No one would hear me. No one would

come.

Panic rose in my throat, threatening to choke me. I forced myself to take deeper breaths, trying to slow my racing heart. It was just darkness, I told myself. Just a power outage. Nothing to be afraid of.

But the darkness wasn’t empty. It was alive with memories–Eleanor’s laughter as she’d locked me in here the first time, the taunts of the servants as they’d released rats into the basement, knowing my terror of them, “It’s not real,” I whispered, rocking back and forth. “There’s nothing here. Just darkness.”

But my body wouldn’t believe the reassurances my mind offered. Every nerve ending screamed danger, every muscle tensed for flight. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chill of the basement air.

I strained my ears, listening for any sound that might indicate I wasn’t alone. The silence was almost complete, broken only by my own ragged breathing and the distant hum of the house above.

Then–a faint rustling. Soft, almost imperceptible. But unmistakable to my heightened senses.

I wasn’t alone.

A whimper escaped my lips as I pressed myself harder against the wall, as if I could somehow melt into the stone. The rustling came again, closer this time, followed by a light scratching sound.

Rats. Just like before.

Eleanor had known about my childhood trauma–how the orphanage had locked disobedient children in a rat–infested cellar as punishment. She’d used that knowledge against me, and now Ethan was doing the

same.

Chapter: 51. Sludde

Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin. I hugged myself tighter, trying to make myself smaller, less noticeable to whatever lurked in the darkness.

“Please,” I whispered, though I didn’t know who I was begging. There was no one to hear, no one to help.

The rustling grew louder, more persistent. I imagined tiny claws scrabbling against stone, beady eyes gleaming in the darkness, sharp teeth ready to bite

A sob tore from my throat, raw and primal. The weight of my fear was crushing, pressing down on me until I

could barely breathe

I was trapped in my own personal hell, with no escape and no rescue in sight. The darkness seemed to thicken around me, a tangible presence pressing against my skin.

The scratching sounds continued, sometimes fading only to return louder than before. My imagination filled in the gaps that my eyes couldn’t see–small furry bodies moving through the darkness, drawn to the scent of

my fear.

I buried my face against my knees, trying to block out the sounds, the memories, the terror. But there was no escape from the shadows that had haunted me since childhood, now made real again by Ethan’s cruelty.

Time lost all meaning in the darkness. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, each moment an eternity of fear. My body ached from tension, muscles cramping from being held rigid for so long.

The rustling sounds had grown more distant, but I couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t return. I remained frozen in place, afraid that any movement would attract attention.

Fresh tears welled up, spilling over to join the ones that had already dried on my cheeks. I missed my daughter with an ache that never dulled, a wound that would never heal.

In the oppressive silence and darkness, memories of her were both comfort and torment. Her smile, her laughter, the way she’d looked at Ethan with such hope in her eyes, even after years of his neglect.