Once Betrayed, Twice Shy

Captured

FARAH

The noise starts as something distant and muffled, the kind of sound I might have mistaken for thunder if it weren’t for the sharp, unmistakable edge of shouting woven through it, and I sit up on the bed instantly, every nerve in my body snapping to attention as I strain to make sense of what’s happening somewhere beyond these walls.

Something is wrong—I can feel it in the way the air itself seems to have shifted, thick with a tension that has nothing to do with the usual, familiar dread I’ve grown accustomed to since arriving here.

I cross to the door and press my ear against the cold wood, but it’s locked from the outside as always, leaving me nothing but muffled fragments of sound to try to piece together: footsteps, fast and heavy, thundering down corridors that should be quiet at this hour, a shout cut short, something that might be a scream, though it’s gone before I can be certain.

I back away from the door, my heart hammering hard against my ribs, and sit on the edge of the bed with my hands twisted together in my lap, trying to steady breathing that refuses to fully cooperate.

Caspian isn’t here. I know that much—he left hours ago for some meeting with Marcus and Soren, and the palace has felt strangely hollow ever since, quieter than usual in a way I hadn’t questioned until right now, and no one is coming to check on me, no one even knows or cares whether I’m okay right now, alone in a room with no way out and no idea what’s happening beyond these four walls.

The door explodes inward before I can fully process the sound of it, splintered wood scattering across the floor as two men burst through, and I’m on my feet instantly, backing toward the far wall on instinct alone, my mind scrambling to make sense of faces I’ve never seen before in my life.

They’re not part of the pack—that much is obvious immediately, from their clothes, their bearing, the weapons strapped across their chests like something out of a war I never agreed to fight, and everything about them screams stranger in a way that terrifies me more than familiar cruelty ever could.

“Get her,” one of them barks, and the other lunges forward before I can even think to run.

I fight.

God help me, I fight with everything I have left in me, twisting and clawing and driving my elbow hard into the ribs of the one who grabs my arm first, but I’m exhausted, weakened from days of barely eating enough to keep myself standing, and it isn’t nearly enough against two men clearly trained for exactly this kind of task.

One of them gets a hand around my waist, hauling me off my feet, and I bring my knee up hard and fast, catching him squarely between the legs with every ounce of desperate strength I can summon.

He drops me instantly, doubling over with a strangled curse, fury twisting his face into something ugly enough that I know, with total certainty, exactly what he intends to do next.

“Little b***h,” he snarls, straightening, one hand already rising like he means to strike me.

“Don’t.”

The other man’s voice cuts sharp through the room, urgent in a way that stops his companion cold.

“We need her in one piece. Those were the orders.”

The first man’s jaw tightens, fury still burning in his eyes, but he lowers his hand, though the promise of violence lingers in the air between us regardless, close enough to taste.

They bind my wrists before I can attempt to fight again, rope biting hard into my skin, and a thick cloth is pulled tight over my eyes, plunging me into a suffocating darkness that makes everything else feel a hundred times more terrifying than it already was.

I’m hauled upright, dragged rather than led, my bare feet stumbling over debris and broken wood as they pull me through corridors I can no longer see, and the thought loops over and over in my mind, useless and aching, that for all his cruelty, all the chains and punishments and impossible tasks, some small, foolish part of me had started believing he might actually keep me safe from anything worse than himself.

And now, in the one moment I actually need protection, he’s nowhere to be found, and no one is coming to save me.

The cold night air hits my skin the moment we’re outside, and I’m shoved forward, stumbling, until rough hands force me down into what I can only assume is the back of a vehicle, metal cold and unforgiving beneath me.

The door slams shut, and the engine roars to life almost immediately, the vehicle lurching forward hard enough to send me sliding sideways with nothing to brace against, and the drive stretches on forever after that, every pothole and sharp turn jolting my body against the metal floor, my wrists aching where the rope digs deeper with every movement I make trying to find some position that hurts less.

I lose track of time entirely, trapped in darkness and pain and the suffocating fear of not knowing where I’m being taken or what waits for me at the end of this road.

When the vehicle finally stops, I’m hauled out roughly, my legs unsteady and screaming with soreness, every muscle in my body protesting the rough treatment of the journey, and someone grips my arm hard enough to bruise, guiding me forward across uneven ground while I stumble more than once, too exhausted and disoriented to fully catch myself.

Then, without warning, the blindfold is ripped away.

Light floods my vision, harsh and sudden, taking several long seconds to adjust enough for me to make sense of what I’m seeing—a grand room, opulent in a way that feels almost obscene given the circumstances, and standing directly in front of me, a man I’ve never seen before in my life.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in clothing that speaks of wealth and power in equal measure, his features handsome in a way that should be reassuring but somehow isn’t, not with the particular smile currently curling across his lips, twisting something that could have been warm and human into something else entirely—something ice cold, calculating, cruel enough to settle deep into my stomach like shards of glass the instant I see it.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says, his voice smooth and unhurried, carrying the particular confidence of a man who’s been waiting a very long time for exactly this moment to arrive.