The Prisoner
My name is Scarlett O'Brian, I spent my life in the silver fang pack.The only daughter of alpha Roman and luna Lena. Silver fang was a smaller pack, to build his wealth, power and influence. My father Roman attacked neighboring packs and then forced the rising leaders to sign treaties with us. He was building his power, wealth and gaining influence across the western hemisphere. Alpha Alan, the strongest most influential alpha of the eastern territory, did not like the power my father had gained over the years and wanted it for himself. He threatened my father with war and resigned that if a war were to happen both would lose men drastically. My father suggested a mutual agreement. A peace treaty sealed by a holy bond. Both men, seeing an opportunity to gain more power and influence across the eastern and western territories, agreed to a peace treaty, one that would give them both more power, wealth and influence. So 3 years ago my life changed. I wanted to scream, to run anywhere then be the thing that tied these two packs together. I tried to run, to fight but I was poisoned and they used my weakened state to force me to marry Alan. That's when my already difficult life turned to hell.
The chains I have strapped to my ankles rattled against the concrete floors as I walked back and forth of the tiny 8X10 cell, a small paper thin mattress in the corner. A sink and toilet I could barely reach on the far left. My ankles no longer burned from the silver. Scars formed from where the silver burned into them long ago. My wolf has been silent for two years. I know she uses all of her strength to heal the deeper wounds. I can still feel her there so that’s a blessing from the moon goddess. Due to my wolf’s weakened state the beatings come a lot less frequently now as the last beating my wolf could not heal me and I almost died. My death would give the two packs a reason to go to war or at least that is what Alan would say while he brought the silver tipped whip down across my legs and back. The Beatings now only come when my "husband" decides he has had a bad day and takes it out on me unlike when I arrived 3 years ago. They were almost every day.I looked down at the brown tattered and torn rags I am forced to wear
as a dress. My feet are dirty and bare. My hair that used to be lustrous long waist length brown curls stays tied in a long messy braid down my back in an attempt to keep the filth from it. My skin that used to glow a vibrant tan is now grey and pale. How have I been reduced to this I thought anger bubbling deep in my chest. I was already living in hell with my parents, they wanted me to train as a future Luna but I’ve never been interested in being a Luna, a prim and proper princess. When they realized being a prim and proper princess was not for me they tried to beat me into submission. Rodger, my father's beta, saw my struggles and My stubbornness and as an-outlet he started training me in secret. It was my only release. Rodger and his wife Beverly were more like a mother and father to me than Alpha and luna.
I looked down at my hands, my eyes lingering on my ring finger. A silver band forged in a wolf-bane flame seared into my skin from the day he forced it on my finger. Between the ring and the small portions of bread and water he has instructed the guards to give me he has weakened me with the poison and silver keeping me sick. I tried fighting back. I still do 3 years of this hell but I refuse to give in. I refuse to break and be weak and give him what he wants. When I find my opening to escape I will take it or he will kill me first either way I will not have to deal with the pain any more. I smiled recalling that I took him and three of his best guards down before the poison took full effect thanks to this damn ring. I remember after the last guard fell I kicked my heels off and ran still in my wedding dress still dizzy from whatever poison they had fed me the night before. They had the kitchen staff slip it into my cup at dinner. I'd taken them down not at full strength, I made it through the pack house and I'd reached the courtyard before my world started spinning more, fading in and out. I stumbled and fell unconscious. I woke up 3 years ago chained in this cell, my own personal prison, My own personal hell. I am thankful he has not even attempted to mark me or mate me. He has not forced me to "Perform my wifely duties" though he has threatened me several times over the years. I laughed a little at the thought "wife" i am not a wife or a luna I am a prisoner. I would die before I allowed him to touch me like that. Even as a prisoner of my father and husband's making I still had my integrity and self dignity.
I turned my hand over the ring on my finger slowly being scraped away from my rubbing it against the concrete daliy. It took 6 months to break through the coating and another 6 months of daily rubbing for the top two layers of the silver since I have to be careful when trying to break the ring. I never know when Alan or his men will come.I have timed the guards rotations. They walk by my cell every few hours. At night they do not come at all until early morning light breaks through the bars on the windows. "You do not look like a farrell rouge " a hushed voice said from outside my cell. I looked up from my hands to see the hazel eyes of a young man who was maybe 20-21. "I'm... not," I said softly, looking at him. I ve seen him around before but he’s never spoken to me. I walked towards the cell bars. My chains rattled then yanked as I had reached the end of my allowed space. Barely able to touch the cell bars. "What is your name?" I asked, letting my hands fall to my sides hiding the ring. "Caleb ma'am" He said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Caleb," I said, testing the name out. It's been awhile since I have heard my own voice or anyone has referred me to anything other than trash or farrell b***h. "I am Scarlett," I said with a small smile. We heard keys rattling and he moved away from my cell back to the post before the door opened. I darted back to my little mat and sat down quickly not wanting them to know I had spoken to caleb. None of the guards speak to me, they speak about me calling me a farrell rouge b***h, useless or filthy trash but they don't speak to me.
