Chapter 3: Three Years in Chains
732 Words
The smell of campfire smoke never left her hair.
Even years later, Ella could still hear the sound—low laughter drifting between crude tents, boots grinding in the dirt outside the cages.
“You're staring again," Sophie had whispered one night, crouched beside her. “They'll think you're inviting trouble."
“I *am* inviting trouble," Ella murmured back, eyes fixed on the guard across the fire. “If he's looking at me, he's not looking at Liam."
Sophie's fingers tightened around the strip of cloth she was using to wrap Ella's wrists. “You can't keep doing this."
“Can't?" Ella let out a dry laugh. “If I don't, he starves. Or worse."
From the shadows of the next cage, Liam's voice came—hoarse, but sharp. “Don't talk like I'm not here."
Ella didn't look at him. “Then stop acting like I'm not keeping you here."
A chain rattled as he shifted. “You think I need your help?"
“You're alive because of it," she shot back.
“Alive?" His laugh was cold. “This is living?"
---
By morning, the air was thick with the smell of wet fur and old beer. The rogues moved through camp like they owned the sky.
One stopped by Ella's post, tossing a crust of bread at Liam's feet. “That one's earned you breakfast, pup."
Liam's jaw tightened, but he bent to pick it up.
“Eat," Ella told him.
He broke it in half, shoving one piece through the bars to her. “You need it more."
“I'll get more tonight," she said, pushing it back. “Eat."
His eyes flicked away, shame burning hotter than the fire.
---
That night, Sophie leaned close as they huddled for warmth. “You can't keep giving everything."
Ella's answer was quiet but certain. “Yes, I can."
“Why?"
“Because Luna Regina asked me without asking." Her gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because I owe her more than my life."
Sophie was silent for a while. “And if he never thanks you?"
“I'm not doing it for thanks."
---
The seasons turned in cruel circles. The rogues got bored of the same games, then invented new ones. Sometimes they made Liam fight for scraps. Sometimes they made Ella watch.
One winter morning, Liam wouldn't meet her eyes at all.
“What?" she asked.
“Nothing."
“Liam."
His voice was low, bitter. “I don't want your charity."
“It's not charity," she said.
“It's pity."
“It's survival," she corrected. “For both of us."
---
On the third spring, horns blared from the north. The sound was wrong—too disciplined, too steady.
The rogues froze, scenting the air.
“What is it?" Sophie whispered.
Ella's heart thudded. “Not them."
Steel flashed in the trees. Pale banners cut through the smoke. Men moved in formations she hadn't seen since childhood—clean armor, sharp eyes, commands like clockwork.
“Who—?" Sophie started.
“Greenland," Ella breathed.
---
It happened fast.
Chains shattered under hammers. Rogues scattered, then fell. The air smelled of blood and pine instead of rot.
A soldier knelt to untie her. “You can stand?"
Ella nodded, legs trembling. “Liam—"
“We've got him," another soldier called. Two men were hauling Liam upright, his face pale but unbroken.
Sophie caught Ella's arm. “We're getting out."
Ella glanced once toward the treeline, where a man in darker armor than the rest moved with unhurried precision. Alpha Gilbert. He didn't shout; he didn't need to. Every order was obeyed the moment his eyes shifted.
When his gaze swept over her, it lingered for the briefest beat—calculating, assessing—and then moved on.
She didn't trust it. But she also didn't look away.
---
That night, by the campfires of their rescuers, Sophie leaned close. “We're alive."
“For now," Ella said.
“You don't sound happy."
Ella's eyes stayed on Gilbert across the fire, the way he moved among his soldiers. “Happiness is a luxury. I'll take survival."
Sophie studied her. “And after survival?"
Ella didn't answer. The night wind carried the scent of burning rogue dens, and somewhere beneath it, the faintest trace of something colder—decisions being made about lives without asking them first.
- Writer
