It was a woman – yes, I remember that much. With each cut she would spray wolfsbane-infused water on it, making me cry out in agony.
To delay the investigations, she had submerged my hands in a smoking liquid laced with silver particles. The intense burning sensation caused me to faint. But she wasn't satisfied. She had someone splash me with ice-cold mountain spring water to wake me up and continue to torture me in different ways, but I still stared at her intently, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me broken.
She had ordered someone to strike my chest with a silver-tipped hammer and had laughed with satisfaction – a sound that would haunt me even in death. Only when she saw I was no longer moving or breathing that she stop. She then placed me on a rolling operating table made of cold iron, further suppressing any lingering werewolf healing abilities.
I had been in so much pain… so much that my body finally gave up the ghost.
Back to the Pack Lab, Ryland suddenly frowned as he picked up my hand to examine it closely. His eyes flickered with something close to recognition as he lifted my lifeless hand. My heart skipped a beat. Did he recognize it? Did he know it was me?