Bound To the Cruel Alpha

Chapter Sixteen

Seraya

The ceiling above her head was a dull gray slab of stone, uneven and cracked in places, as if time itself had been gnawing at it for centuries. Seraya had been staring at it for hours now. The stone was all she could focus on, all she had to anchor herself with. If she let her thoughts drift too far she would start to hear the celebration above her again, and it made her blood boil.

Music carried faintly through the layers of rock, muffled drums and pipes. Every so often the sound would swell, joined by a chorus of voices, hundreds of throats raised together. Sometimes in a cheer. Other times, in a song. Their laughter rolling like waves. It must have been past midnight by now, yet they still feasted and sang. She had not closed her eyes once.

The dungeon smelled of dampness and rust. Somewhere close by, water was leaking from the ceiling. It made a steady dripping sound that tapped against her skull, sharp as a hammer. Sometimes the drip fell into a puddle and gave a hollow plop. Other times it splashed into the thin trail that ran along the edge of the floor and trickled away into the dark.

It was not quiet down here, not the way she wanted. Snoring rose and fell from other cells, heavy and ugly. Men who had surrendered to sleep without shame. Earlier a fight had broken out in one of the cells. She heard the sound of fists, snarls, and flesh hitting stone. Then the sickening c***k of bone. She had shut her eyes tight, but the cries had carried on until a guard stomped over and silenced them with the ring of his blade against iron bars.

Seraya was grateful her cell was empty. No hands reaching for her, no eyes watching her every move. Just the chains biting into her wrists and ankles, but they were rubbing her skin raw.

Her stomach twisted again. She was very hungry. Starving, even. The hunger gnawed at her, dull and steady, worse because she had smelled food earlier when the guards passed by. Lunch and dinner. Trays clattering. Stew and bread. But when they had stopped at her door they had done something different. They had smirked at her through the bars, muttered to each other, and then poured her portion onto the ground just inside her cell.

“Rogues eat dirt, right?” one of them had laughed.

The stew had spread into the cracks in the floor. The bread had soaked it up and turned to mush. The meat had fallen against the wall and gathered dust. She had not touched it. She had not looked at them. She had simply lain back on her bed of stone, her head tilted to the side, eyes burning but dry.

The only thing she had left was her dignity. And she was not about to surrender that.

The silver chains were heavy and unyielding. They bit into her skin in a way that normal iron never could. Her wrists felt swollen, her ankles throbbed. Every small movement sent a low hum of pain through her blood. She shifted carefully, her back against the cold wall, and closed her eyes.

Then came voices.

At first faint, almost lost in the constant drip of water and the snores. But they grew louder, clearer. A small commotion. The light of a torch flickered down the corridor, brushing across damp stone.

Seraya muttered to herself. “Oh, not again.”

The steps drew closer. She opened her eyes.

Two guards appeared at the edge of her vision, one holding the torch, the other walking beside someone else. A woman. Her voice was soft but carried an edge of command.

“Milady, you do not have to… We told you earlier... It is not proper...”

The woman’s reply was muffled. Seraya could not make it out, but her tone was firm.

The group stopped in front of her cell. The torchlight revealed the woman clearly now. She was young, striking, her hair pinned back neatly though strands had slipped loose. Her gown was dark but elegant, the kind a noblewoman would wear even if she were sneaking into a dungeon. In her hands she held a tray covered with a cloth.

The woman’s eyes fell on the floor just inside the bars. The mess of stew and bread still lay there, crusted and stale.

“Why is her food on the ground?” Her voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut.

The guard with the torch shifted uneasily. “Milady, I… we…”

“Answer me,” she snapped.

The guard licked his lips. “She is a rogue. We thought—”

“Open it,” the lady cut him off.

The man froze. “Milady, the alpha’s orders—”

“Did I stutter?” Her tone made the air go still.

The guard hesitated only a moment longer before fumbling for the keys at his belt. The clank of iron filled the corridor. He unlocked the door and pushed it open with a groan.

The lady stepped inside without fear. She carried the tray carefully, her eyes steady on Seraya.

“Hi,” she said softly. “I am Kaelen.”

Seraya straightened against the wall, her chains rattling. She knew that face. She had seen her speak in the council chamber. Draven’s sister. The noblewoman who had defended her earlier.

“I know who you are,” Seraya said, her voice rough from hours of silence.

Kaelen gave a small nod. “Right.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the guard. “Take off her chains.”

The guard stiffened. “Milady, I—”

“Now,” she said. Her tone left no room for argument.

The man scowled but obeyed. He knelt and unlocked the shackles at Seraya’s wrists, then her ankles. The moment the silver fell away, relief washed through her like a tide. The burn faded, the ache dulled. She flexed her hands slowly, wincing at the raw skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Kaelen did not reply. She simply set the tray down on the bed beside her and lifted the cloth. Steam rose into the cold air. A bowl of stew, thick with meat and potatoes. A hunk of bread. A cup of water.

Seraya did not hesitate. She picked up the spoon and began to eat. The warmth hit her stomach like fire. She tried not to rush, but hunger pushed her on. She ate in silence, not looking at anyone.

The guards stood at the door, shifting uncomfortably. Kaelen remained where she was, hands clasped in front of her, watching quietly. The silence between them grew heavier with each passing moment.

Seraya did not break it. She would not.

When at last the bowl was empty, she set the spoon down with trembling fingers. Her stomach was still hollow, but at least the ache had eased. She leaned back against the wall again, breathing slow.

Kaelen cleared her throat softly. “I will bring you fresh clothes tomorrow.”

Seraya glanced at her. She only nodded.

Kaelen lingered a moment longer, as if wanting to say more, then turned and walked toward the door.

“You do not have to chain her again tonight,” she told the guard.

The man gave no answer. He only stood stiffly, jaw clenched.

Kaelen left, her torchlight fading with her.

The guards closed the cell. When Seraya was sure Kaelen was gone, one of them entered again with the shackles. She did not fight him. She did not argue. She let him fasten the silver around her wrists once more. The cold bite returned, cruel as ever.

She lowered herself onto the bed again and lay flat on her back, staring at the stone ceiling. Her stomach was warm now, her body less weak. But her chest still felt hollow.

She closed her eyes.

And for the second time that day, tears slipped down her cheeks.