Chapter Five
1107 Words
Seraya
Seraya's legs finally remembered how to move. Her hands hit the ground, knees pushing under her. She shoved herself upright, swaying slightly. Everything inside her screamed one thing.
Run.
Her legs barely worked, but she didn’t care. She turned and bolted into the trees.
She made it two steps before a hand caught her wrist. Rough. Strong. Completely unyielding.
“Let go of me!” she cried out, twisting hard, trying to tear herself free.
Draven held her fast. He didn’t yank her back to the ground. Didn’t shift. Didn’t even look angry. He simply stood there, holding her with that same calm, focused strength she was quickly learning to hate.
“You can’t run in your condition,” he said. His voice was low and strained, but not cruel. “You’re bleeding. You’re exhausted. If the hounds don’t catch you, my soldiers will.”
“Then let them!” she shouted, voice cracking as she fought harder. “It’s better they kill me than take me alive!”
She kicked at him, tried to claw her way loose. Her breath came too fast, ragged and harsh. She was panicking again. She was past reasoning now. Her body had taken over. Wild and desperate.
He caught her other wrist and stepped closer, trying to keep her still. His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold her.
“Stop it. Nobody is going to kill you.”
“Liar!” Her scream was raw, and broken at the edges. “You think I don’t know what you and your men do to rogues. I do. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. You’ll lock me in chains and show me off like a prize. You all do!”
“Seraya—”
She froze.
How did he know her name?
“Don’t say my name!” she hissed, twisting again. “You don’t get to say my name!”
Her whole body trembled. She was barely standing upright, but she still fought him. Rage and terror poured out of her like fire. She wasn’t even sure she was speaking words anymore. Just sounds. Just pain. She was snarling like a caged wolf.
Then the forest stirred again.
Boots on leaves. The c***k of branches. Shouts in the distance.
Voices. Orders. Movement.
And then—light. Flickering. Red-gold through the trees.
The Enforcers had arrived.
They stepped into the clearing one by one. Their armor was dark, reinforced with bands of metal. Red cloaks. Crossbows. Swords. Horsemen. Some carried torches. Others moved with silent precision, weapons already drawn.
They slowed when they saw what waited for them.
Their Alpha, was locked in a standoff with a rogue who looked like she had clawed her way out of death itself. Seraya’s cloak was torn. Her skin was streaked with blood and dirt, but her eyes gleamed silver in the torchlight. She shook from head to toe, still half in his arms, still wild with fury and fear.
No one spoke.
Then one of them raised his weapon slightly.
“Careful, Alpha,” the voice called. “She has magic.”
Draven didn’t look at them. His eyes stayed locked on Seraya’s.
"Just stay still, will you?" he muttered, voice tight with something that wasn't quite anger. It bordered on pleading.
Seraya stopped moving.
She didn’t know why. It wasn’t because of his words. It wasn’t fear. She didn’t want to listen—but something inside her tugged at her chest again. The same pull as before. Like a cord tied between them. Invisible, but real.
Her body stilled before her mind caught up.
And in that small, silent moment—
A dart flew through the air.
It struck her in the neck. Sharp. Icy and immediate.
“No—” she gasped, reaching for it too late.
She staggered.
Her knees buckled. Her limbs turned to stone. The sedative burned through her blood like ice.
Before she could hit the ground, hands grabbed her. Not his. These ones were rougher. Colder.
Two Enforcers hauled her up and yanked her arms behind her back. Chains snapped around her wrists. Another pair of shackles clamped onto her ankles. She tried to fight, but her strength drained too fast. Her body was already going numb. Her head spun. Her vision blurred.
She dropped to her knees, too heavy to stand. She barely felt the ground hit her.
Draven’s voice cut through the fog.
“That was unnecessary, Corren.”
The man with the crossbow stepped forward. He was younger but he had grey streaks in his hair. He wore his battle-worn leathers like a second skin. His mouth was set in a hard line.
“She was a threat,” Corren said flatly.
“I had it under control.”
Corren scoffed. “You didn’t look like you had anything under control.”
He tossed Draven his armor and crimson cloak. “You could have ended it in seconds. You could have snapped her neck easily. But you didn’t. Are you getting soft, Alpha?”
The clearing froze again.
Draven’s gaze cut toward him. Deadly quiet. "No."
"Then why didn’t you do it?"
Draven didn’t flinch. He slipped into his armor without breaking eye contact with Corren. Fastened the clasp at his shoulder by himself. Pulled the cape over his back. The wind whispered through the trees.
Then his voice dropped.
"Because she's my bloody mate."
Silence.
It fell like a weight.
There wasn't a single sound. Just wind. And breathing.
The ripple of shock moved through the clearing like thunder without the noise. Someone swore under their breath. Another Enforcer dropped their weapon. All eyes turned to Seraya.
Corren’s brow lifted slightly. “Are you sure?”
The rest of the Enforcers looked between one another in disbelief.
"Alpha," one of them murmured, "that's not possible. She's a rogue."
"Worse," another growled, barely concealing his fury, "she's a sorcereress."
"The bond doesn’t lie," Draven snapped, turning his back on them. "Now get her up. Carefully. And if any of you so much as lay a hand on her without cause, you will answer to me."
None of them moved.
Seraya blinked sluggishly, her body heavy, her heart screaming against the haze. She felt her consciousness slipping, the last thing she saw was Draven standing above her, cape billowing, eyes on fire with something between rage and resolve.
As the darkness pulled her under, the only thing louder than the murmurs of the Elite was the screaming of her own thoughts:
Mate. No, no, no.
Not him.
Anyone but him.
And then the darkness took her.
- Writer
