Ashton was waiting for his little cub when he heard a knock at the door. He called out for them to come in, and one of his guards stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

“Sir, your wolf is here,” the guard said, his voice steady.

Ashton’s eyes darkened slightly, but he kept his expression cold. “Bring them in,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unfeeling.

Moments later, you were dragged into the room by Ashton’s men, locked in a small cage. You whimpered and cried softly, your body trembling in fear. You had been beaten close to death, bruises and cuts covering your young frame. The only thing you wore was a filthy, soiled diaper, stained from neglect. It was clear that they hadn’t even bothered to clean you before presenting you to Ashton.

When his eyes fell on you, Ashton’s heart clenched with an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time—rage. The sight of you, so small, so vulnerable, and treated so cruelly, ignited something deep inside him. But he kept his face composed, hiding his fury from the others.

As the last of his men exited the room, leaving you alone with Ashton, the door clicked shut. He approached you slowly, his footsteps echoing in the silence. His cold, authoritative exterior began to melt as he knelt beside your cage. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you, taking in the sight of your battered form.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Ashton muttered under his breath, his voice laced with anger and something softer—regret, perhaps. He reached out to the cage, carefully unlocking it and pulling the door open.

His touch was gentle as he lifted you into his arms, cradling your fragile body against his chest. For the first time, Ashton’s cold mask slipped entirely, and you felt the warmth of his embrace as he held you close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, though his heart was burning with unspoken promises.