Captured and Claimed By the Four Princes.

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Aurora’s POV

The dungeon smelled like rot and damp stone.

Cold water dripped steadily from somewhere unseen, ticking like a clock counting down the hours I had left.

Shackles pinned my wrists to the wall above me, rough iron that bit into my skin no matter how many times I pulled against them. My ankles were bound too, though the chains were long enough for me to pace a few steps before jerking me back.

I’d already tried everything.

From picking at the locks with a bent piece of wire I’d hidden in my boots to twisting until my wrists bled to yanking so hard my shoulders were definitely cursing me.

Nothing worked.

Whoever forged these cuffs knew how to keep thieves like me in place.

I slumped against the wall and stared down at the pendant resting on my chest. Its glow was faint, barely there, like an ember refusing to die. I told myself it was just the torchlight flickering across the metal, nothing more.

But every so often, warmth pulsed from it, soft as a heartbeat.

I hated it.

I hated how it seemed to breathe with me, how it hummed like a whisper I couldn’t quite hear. I hated how... Alive it felt, if that even made any sense.

And I hated most of all that I couldn’t take it off.

I’d tried.

Gods, I’d tried.

My fingers clawed at the chain until they cramped, but the clasp wouldn’t budge. It clung to me like it belonged here.

'I was here to stay,' it seemed to say.

I shut my eyes and forced myself to breathe. I wouldn’t break. I wouldn’t beg. If they wanted me to grovel, they’d be so f*****g disappointed.

Still, beneath all my stubbornness, fear curled tight in my gut.

Dawn wasn’t far anymore.

The scrape of boots across stone snapped me alert.

My head jerked up, chains rattling.

Out of the shadows stepped Ressler.

His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his broad frame blocking half the torchlight from the corridor. For a moment he just stood there, staring at me, his expression hard.

“Come to gloat?” I asked, my voice hoarse but steady.

He didn’t answer. He just…looked. His jaw clenched as though he was restraining himself.

I swallowed. “If you came here to watch me squirm, you’ll be disappointed. I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

Still nothing.

His gaze lingered on the pendant, then flicked back to me. The muscle in his cheek ticked, and before I could think of another barb to throw at him, he turned sharply and stalked out.

There were no words, no threats... Nothing at all.

I slid against the wall and sat there breathing hard, my heart pounding like I’d just survived a fight.

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating. I tried to shake it off, but my chest was tight.

It wasn’t long before I felt another presence slip in.

It was Daemon.

Of course.

He moved like smoke, his pale face catching the glow of the torchlight as though it were painted for him. His red eyes burned as he leaned casually against the bars, watching me.

I hated the way he watched me.

“Come to play your little game?” I asked, my voice sharp.

His lips curved faintly as he tilted his head. “I'm just curious. You’re afraid, yet you won’t show it. It's... admirable.”

“Yeah, well keep your admiration to yourself.”

He tilted his head. “You feel it too, don’t you? The pull. That warmth. That…bond.”

My stomach twisted, they had talked about this bond of a thing before. But I didn't know what it meant. “All I feel is a death sentence breathing down my neck. If you came here looking for confessions, you’ll leave disappointed.”

His smile widened slightly, but he said nothing more. He simply turned, his cloak brushing the stones, and left the way he came.

I sagged against the wall, shivering despite the fire torch burning steady.

What was happening?

I closed my eyes, but the sound of the chains scraping against stone woke me again.

Oh come on.

This time it was Aregon, silent as the grave, that I didn't notice at first, his silver eyes fixed on me. He stood just inside the doorway, his arms folded. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared.

“Going to stand there all night?” I snapped, more rattled than I wanted him to know.

No reply. Not even the twitch of an eyebrow.

I tried again. “You could at least tell me what the hell this pendant is. What it’s doing. Why you all—”

But he just turned and melted back into the shadows, silent as he’d come.

My throat ached.

I wanted to scream at them, wanted to shake the answers out of them. Instead I was left alone again, with nothing but my heartbeat and the faint warmth radiating from the cursed relic on my chest.

By the time Jessiel came and at this point, I expected him.

All I saw were his eyes in the darkness. He stayed in the farthest corner of the cell, like even stepping too close was beneath him. His cloak blended into the shadows, his sharp features almost skeletal in the half-light.

I shivered. “Well? Don’t all speak at once.”

Nothing.

My throat tightened. “Please,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “You don’t have to kill me. I don’t even know what this thing is. I didn’t—”

But his eyes didn’t soften. He didn’t move. After a long, unbearable silence, he vanished back into the dark.

I sagged forward, chains clanking. My whole body trembled.

I pressed my forehead against my bound wrists, swallowing hard.

The strangest thing was the way my chest ached but not just with fear. Every time they entered, it was as though the air shifted, tugging something deep inside me. The rage at which Ressler stared at me. Daemon's curiosity as he leaned close. That unnerving calm of Aregon and Jessiel’s cold indifference.

It was like their emotions weren’t just theirs anymore.

Like they were bleeding into me, wrapping around my own until I couldn’t tell where mine ended and theirs began.

“No,” I muttered under my breath.

But the pendant pulsed warm against my chest.

The hours ran by after that.

I must have dozed, because the next thing I heard was the clang of the dungeon door and the heavy steps of armored boots.

The guards.

It was dawn.

My body tensed as they unlocked the cell. The chains rattled as they unbound my ankles, then yanked me roughly to my feet. My wrists stayed shackled, cold iron biting into skin rubbed raw from struggling.

I straightened my spine, lifting my chin even as fear clawed through me. I wouldn’t let them drag me like some broken criminal.

If I was going to die, I’d walk to it.

Head held high.