SERA'S POV
I sat there, my body feeling like it was made of lead. The silver chains had finally stopped tightening against my neck, and the ones on my ankles had stopped burning through my skin. I learned the hard way that fighting back was a death sentence. Every time I tried to break free, the metal bit deeper, making my slow end feel inevitable.
However the cell was still a tomb of silence. The only sounds were the ragged, heavy rasp of my breath and the lonely *clink-clink* of the chains whenever I tried to shift from one side of the cold floor to the other.
"Crawl out".
A voice sliced through the quiet, dripping with a disgusting, saucy attitude. I heard the heavy turn of the lock as the cell door groaned open.
"I said *crawl*!"
A loud burst of mockery followed. One of the guards doubled over, his laughter filling the room as he pointed a finger at me. He was hitting his own chest, gasping for air because my misery was just that funny to him.
I guess to them, I was just a joke. A broken thing. With the tiny bit of strength I had left, I dropped my head, trying to pull my focus away from their cruel faces.
Suddenly, a hand snatched the chain around my neck and yanked. Hard.
I hit the floor face-first. My head bounced twice against the stone before finally coming to a stop. I wanted to scream—I wanted to rip their throats out—but the fire in my soul had faded to a dull ache.
The other guard knelt down and jammed a heavy key into the locks at my ankles. With a sharp *click*, the pressure vanished. I was technically free, but I couldn't move an inch. My body just lay there, a heap of bruised skin and shattered pride, waiting for the next blow to fall.
They gripped my arms and dragged me out, my body scraping against the rough stone. They dumped me by the door for a second so they could lock the cell back up, the sound of the key turning like a final nail in a coffin. One of them lit a small candle, and the flickering flame cut through the shadows.
In that weak light, I managed to lift my head and look back inside.
My heart nearly stopped. The corners of the cell were littered with bones—old, bleached, and broken. Different types of heavy chains were bolted to the walls, each one a silent witness to the powerful wolves who had taken their last breaths in this hole.
As the guards turned back to me, I raised a shaking hand, a silent plea for them to wait as I tried to find my feet. They didn't care. They just snapped a fresh pair of cuffs around my wrists, chaining my hands together with a cold, metallic bite.
The walk through the long hallway was a blur of pain. My legs only moved because of pure, stubborn willpower. The silver in those chains had sucked my energy dry, and the lack of food and water made my head spin. When we finally reached the heavy doors of Liam's chamber, they let go.
I hit the floor with a loud *thud*, my knees buckling instantly.
"Lord," the guards said in unison, bowing so low their foreheads nearly brushed the rug. "Here she is. Do you wish for us to stay and…"
Liam didn't say a word. He just lifted a single palm. It was enough. They quickly unlocked the chains on my hands and scrambled out, bowing their way through the door.
I knelt there, my body trembling so hard I thought I might break. The silence in the room was heavy, a suffocating weight that pressed against my lungs. *What now?* I wondered. *Is this where he finally kills me?*
My knees gave out. I couldn't hold myself up for another second. I collapsed forward, my palms hitting the rug. It was so soft, so plush and comfy, a cruel contrast to the stone I'd been living on. From the doorway, it probably looked like I was just sitting, but I was really just trying not to faint.
"What is your name?"
His voice cut through the silence like a jagged blade, low and commanding. I shivered, the sound of it vibrating right through my exhausted bones. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I just stared at the intricate patterns of the rug, wondering if this was the last voice I'd ever hear.
"Young pup." He tilted his head, that taunting smirk playing on his lips again. "I wish to know your name."
That did it. The fire in my bones sparked. What the hell was he smiling at? I forced my head up, my eyes locking onto his. It was a silent war, a clash of wills. For a second, I thought I held my ground, but the weight of his power was like a physical pull, dragging me under. Then, his smile grew. His eyes actually warmed, filled with a strange kind of awe that made my skin crawl.
He started walking toward me. He didn't rush; he took his time, his gaze anchored to mine. I tried to scramble away, dragging my heavy limbs across the soft rug, but he closed the distance easily. He reached out, his hand landing on my shoulder like a brand.
His fingers traced a slow, shivering line down my back. Then came the command, cold and sharp. "Take off your clothes."
My heart stopped. My eyes widened, and the tiny bit of control I had left just snapped. I twisted around, glaring at him with pure rage, but his expression wasn't cold anymore—it was... emotional?
He reached for the collar of my shirt, intent on tearing it open. I slapped his hands away, a snarl ripping from my throat. He dropped into a low crouch, staring at me as a single, lethal claw slid from his fingertip. He lunged. I dodged just in time, but the sharp edge of his claw sliced through the fabric of my shirt, exposing the skin of my back.
That was the final straw.
I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking under the weight of my battered body. He stayed low, staring at the spot where I'd dodged him. I swung my fist at his head with everything I had left, but he didn't even look up. He caught my wrist mid-air, his grip like a steel trap.
I kicked. I thrashed. He just stood there, holding my hand and dodging my clumsy attacks like I was a child. I tried to pull free, but it was useless. I snapped, throwing wild punches with my left hand and lashing out with my feet. He moved like smoke, effortless and mocking, while still keeping his iron grip on my right wrist.
"You monster!" I roared.
My body felt like it was moving through tall grass, slow and heavy, while he danced around every punch without breaking a sweat. I looked around desperately for a weapon, my eyes landing on a large, heavy vase. I dragged the fight toward it, my lungs burning.
With one last, desperate surge of strength, I grabbed the vase. I tried to lift it, intending to smash it over his head, but my hands were too slick with sweat. It slipped.
The vase hit the floor and shattered. A thick, grey cloud of ash exploded into the air, filling the room. The moment I breathed it in, my world tilted. My knees hit the rug.
He stood over me, watching as my vision began to blur into a messy smudge of colors. The room went silent, save for the ringing in my ears.
"Fox-killer ash?!!" The words left his lips before he could catch them.
I tried to react but at that instant I lost consciousness immediately.