chapter 2 Ella
1108 Words
Cold. That was the first thing I felt. Not the kind of chill that pricks your skin, this one crawls deeper, seeps into your bones, and makes you forget what warmth even felt like.
Stone walls. Iron bars. A single flickering bulb that hums like an insect trapped in glass.
I try to move, but the chains bite into my wrists before I even lift my head. Silver. Of course. The metal hisses where it touches skin, tiny burns blooming like stars across my forearms. Ouch.
For a second, I forget where I am. Then it all rushes back: the forest, the rogues, the patrol, the crash of boots.
A territory I don't know.
I swallow hard, the taste of dirt and blood thick on my tongue. Storm?
I’m here, she answers softly. Don’t panic.
Too late for that. My heart feels like it’s trying to escape my chest.
I don’t think they’re rogues, I whisper.
They’re not, Storm says. Their control... the scent of authority in this place... It’s a pack. A strong one.
Her voice carries an edge I rarely hear: respect, maybe even unease.
Chains rattle somewhere down the corridor, followed by a low groan. I’m not alone.
My eyes adjust. Three cells line the opposite wall, holding shadows that used to be people. Rogues, most likely.
Their scent is sharp and wild, soaked into the stone.
A heavy door creaks open at the end of the hall. Boots echo. Two guards step inside both tall, both wearing the same black-and-gray uniform that glints faintly. Now I know where I am: ATLAS PACK. These are Atlas warriors.
One carries a tray, the other a spear tipped with silver.
I brace.
Meal, the first one grunts, shoving a bowl through the bars. The contents splash gray broth, maybe.
The second warrior’s gaze lingers longer. He studies me like a predator calculating. Sheesh, she doesn’t look like a rogue, he mutters.
Smells like one, the first replies. Patrol found her bleeding at the border. No pack mark. No ID.
He turns and spits on the floor. Spy.
Let me out, Ella. I’ll show them spy… Storm growls low in my head. I want to argue I'm not a spy, but I need to keep quiet.
Not yet, I whisper back. We need to survive this first.
The guard hears me and smirks. Talking to yourself already?
I meet his eyes, perhaps a mistake, but I hold his stare. Oh, good. At least someone intelligent to talk to.
The smirk vanishes. His hand slams against the bars. You’ll learn to keep that mouth shut when the Alpha gets here.
He leaves with a muttered curse. The heavy door slams behind them.
The silence after feels heavier than the chains.
Storm, I murmur, who’s their Alpha?
I don’t know, she replies, though I can feel her unease coil through me. But he’s strong. His scent is in the air: grief, power, rage. This whole place reeks of it.
I let my head rest against the damp, biting cold wall. I don’t know how long I sit there long enough for the bulb to buzz itself silent, for my arms to go numb.
When I can’t take it anymore, I start testing the chains. Small movements first wrists, ankles, shoulders. Pain flares bright and sharp, but the metal grinding gives me hope.
Don’t, Storm warns. If you reopen the wounds—
I’m not waiting around for whoever thinks they get to decide my fate
.
A deep breath. A sharp twist. The cuff at my left wrist loosens just enough to cut deeper. Blood slicks the metal. I grit my teeth and pull again harder. Please, please.
The pain explodes white-hot, but the cuff slips free.
One more, I pant.
The second takes longer. The silver burns so badly my hands shake, but I finally yank it loose and stagger to my feet.
The world leaned. I steady myself against the wall, swallowing bile.
Ella—
I’m fine, I lie.
I move toward the bars, testing their strength. Solid iron. No give. But the lock… it looks old. Rusted.
My fingers tremble as I reach through the bars, trying to twist the latch. It’s just out of reach.
Almost—
A shout cuts through the corridor. Boots. Too many this time.
Hide the chains. Now
I drop to the floor, sliding the cuffs back around my wrists, pretending they’re still locked. My breath comes fast and shallow as the heavy door bursts open again.
Three guards rush in. One looks furious.
What the hell happened here? He checks the lock, rattling the bars. Then his gaze falls on me.
I meet it head-on.
I was getting comfortable, I say.
He doesn’t find that funny. His hand flashes out, grabbing my jaw and forcing my face up. You think this is a joke? You’re lucky you’re still breathing.
I wrench my head away. Then maybe let me stop being lucky.
Enough he snaps. Alpha Morgan will deal with you.
The name hits like lightning.
Did he say Morgan? Storm’s voice sharpens instantly.
Yeah, I breathe. Do you know him?
Only by name. Ruthless. Lost his mate last winter. They say he hasn’t smiled since.
The guard smirks. Don’t look so scared, little rogue. Our Alpha doesn’t waste time with cowards.
I’m not scared.
He laughs low, mocking. We’ll see.
They chain my wrists again, tighter this time, and leave. Oh, God.
When the door slams shut, I let out a shaky breath. My hands throb.
Storm is quiet for a moment before saying, You shouldn’t have fought them.
I had to know what kind of monsters they are, I whisper. Now I do.
I close my eyes and listen. Somewhere above, footsteps echo down a corridor slow, heavy, deliberate.
Each one closer than the last.
That’s him, Storm’s voice trembles slightly, a growl beneath the words.
Good, I say. My throat aches, but my voice comes out steady. Let him come.
I lift my head, spine straight despite the pain.
I may be chained, but I’m not broken.
The footsteps stop right outside my cell.
The air shifts charged, powerful, commanding.
Then a hand rests on the bars.
- Writer
