Frozen in Time

Fractured Paths

I woke refreshed and ready to take the day on. The dawn light slashed through the room like a blade, streaking across the floorboards. I stretched, savoring the brief calm before the chaos, then dressed in my usual dark gear. A crust of bread and a few dried berries passed for breakfast—enough to keep me sharp. Today wasn’t about comfort. It was about blood.

I met Thorn and Tank just outside the village, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and tension. We went over the plan one final time.

“Thorn, you're taking out the front guard. Tank, you’ve got the rear. While the two of you keep them distracted, I’ll slip into the carriage and slice the noble’s throat clean open. Any questions?”

They both shook their heads. That was all I needed.

Thorn climbed into the tree canopy, bow strung and ready, her poisoned arrows glittering like teeth. Tank hugged the shadows, blades drawn, eyes cold. I slipped into a bush beneath Thorn, knives gripped tight in each fist. We waited, the silence like a held breath.

Then we heard them.

The pounding hooves of the approaching escort echoed like war drums. The front guards came into view.

Thorn didn’t hesitate. The first arrow punched into a soldier’s throat, and he gurgled as he fell. Another followed—fast, precise—dropping the second before he could yell.

That was Tank’s cue. He lunged from the trees like a beast, twin blades carving through the rear guard with brutal efficiency. Limbs flew, screams ripped the air, and the horses reared in terror.

I moved.

While blood spilled around me, I crept through the chaos and into the carriage unnoticed. Daggers drawn, I turned to the noble—only to find an empty seat.

Fuck.

The door slammed behind me, and I heard it lock.

I spun, slamming my fists against the door. “Gods damn it!”

I knew it. I f*****g knew it. My gut had screamed at me, but I ignored it like a fool. The carriage jolted forward. I was thrown hard against the back wall, my skull cracking against wood. Darkness slammed into me.

When I came to, the world was burning gold and crimson—sunset. My head throbbed. I reached up but couldn’t move. Chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles, biting into flesh. I searched my body for hidden tools. Every pocket was empty.

“It’s no use, love.”

That voice.

I looked up and saw her—Thorn. That little venomous b***h. She stood over me, my daggers in one hand, my tool kit in the other.

She crouched, dragging the tip of one blade across my arm, slicing skin as easily as silk. Her eyes were feral, gleaming with sick delight. The blade moved across my stomach, my chest, down my thighs, never breaking eye contact.

She leaned in, her breath hot against my cheek. “I never would’ve guessed you’d fall for it so easily. You really are a greedy whore.”

I bared my teeth, voice low and feral. “When I get out of these chains, I’ll watch the light drain from your eyes while I drive this blade down your f*****g throat.”

She only chuckled, slow and smug.

A voice barked from outside the carriage. “If you end her now, not only do you lose your payment, but I’ll chain you up myself and let my men take turns with you until you forget your own name.”

A man stepped into view. Clean-cut. Rich. Dangerous. He shoved Thorn aside like a disobedient mutt and crouched in front of me.

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes glittered like polished obsidian. There was something in them I couldn’t quite place. A darkness. Familiar and foreign.

I spat at his feet.

The slap came fast and hard, splitting my lip and sending a line of blood down my chin. I grinned through it—bloody, defiant. I would not break.

“Bind her to a tree,” he said, rising. “No food. Let her starve for her disobedience.”

“Tank!” Thorn barked. “Get her.”

Tank slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began the long walk to camp. I lifted my head just enough to scan the trees. I didn’t recognize this forest. That was bad.

Ten minutes later, he found a thick, gnarled tree and slammed me against it, locking the chains so tight I could barely breathe. My ribs ached, my arms throbbed, but I made no sound.

The sun vanished, taking the warmth with it. I shivered, curling inward, trying to preserve what little heat I could.

The camp burst to life—fires crackling, mugs clinking, laughter echoing. Men passed by me like vultures circling meat. Their eyes crawled over my skin. But none touched me.

Except one.

A fat, greasy bastard stumbled toward me, reeking of liquor and rot. His breath was hot and sour. He pressed himself beside me, breathing in my scent like a wolf catching blood.

His filthy hands traced my arms, down my sides, stopping at my thighs. He grinned, eyes wide with lust. “I’m gonna make you scream,” he slurred, licking his lips. “You’ll beg me for more.”

I squeezed my legs together, trying to block his touch, but it only riled him further.

He groaned, inching his hand higher, his sausage-like fingers trembling with anticipation. I pulled against the chains with everything I had, metal grinding into raw skin, but they wouldn’t budge. His palm slid up the inside of my thigh, damp with sweat and reeking of his filth. My stomach turned, rage burning just beneath the fear.

“You’ll like it rough, won’t you?” he slurred, pressing his bulk against me. His breath was hot and sour as he leaned in to lick my neck. I clenched my jaw and turned away, but there was nowhere to go.

Just as his hand began to fumble at my waistband, a sharp whistle sliced through the camp.

“Oi, back the f**k off, pig,” Thorn’s voice rang out like a whip.

The man turned his bloated head toward her. “I’m just havin’ a taste.”

“You touch her before he gets her, and we’re all dead. Get your useless c**k away from her, or I’ll cut it off and feed it to you.”

He hesitated, eyes still locked on me, before stumbling backward with a muttered curse. He spat in my direction and limped away, still hard. I wanted to vomit.

Thorn swaggered toward me, lips curled with amusement. “You should be grateful,” she said, crouching in front of me and flicking a leaf off my boot with my own dagger. “That was almost your first of many. He’s not the worst of them.”

I said nothing. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

She leaned in close, her face inches from mine. “I can’t wait to watch him break you. You’ll be crying and begging, and I’ll be right there... smiling.”

I met her eyes, a twisted grin spreading across my face. “I hope he tries,” I whispered, voice low and shaking with fury. “Because the first chance I get, I’m carving your name into his corpse. Then I’ll come for you.”

Thorn just laughed, standing and walking off without another word.

Night fell fully, dragging the cold in like a curse. I couldn’t stop shivering. Every muscle screamed. Every breath hurt. But I was still alive. And as long as I could breathe, I could plan.

I wasn’t dead yet.

Not even close.

The cold seeped into my bones, relentless and cruel, like it had all the time in the world to break me down. The rough bark pressed against my back, sharp and unyielding, digging into bruises already forming beneath the chains. Each breath came out in visible puffs, white ghosts in the dark air, mocking me with their fleeting freedom.

I clenched my teeth, trying to hold on to some shred of control, but the cold wasn’t just a physical enemy. It clawed at my mind, twisting thoughts into darker corners. Despair gnawed at the edges of my resolve like a ravenous beast, whispering lies I fought to ignore.

I was no stranger to failure. Hell, I’d messed up on assignments before—costly mistakes that nearly ended me more than once. But this… this was something new. Something worse. Being caught, chained like a common prisoner, at the mercy of enemies who thought me nothing more than a prize to be broken.

I swallowed the bitter taste of shame, but it was tempered by the flicker of a memory—one that surged through the cold haze like a burning brand.

I was younger then, less hardened. A mission gone sideways, traps sprung too soon, ambushed by a gang that nearly ended me. Jonathan had come for me like a god from the shadows, swift and merciless. His blade had sung death to my enemies and his hand had pulled me from the edge, his voice steady in my ear: “You don’t get to die yet, Val. Not while I’m standing.”

That night had saved me. It had made me. And now, as I lay here shivering, a prisoner of my own mistakes, I clung to that memory like a lifeline. If Jonathan could believe in me when I didn’t deserve it, then I could fight. I would fight.

The campfire’s glow flickered in the distance, a cruel reminder of the warmth I no longer had. Each passing minute was a small death—the cold stealing strength, numbing fingers and toes, turning muscles to ice. The chains bit deeper, cruel little teeth digging into flesh raw from trying to pull free. I had to stay alert, had to keep moving in my mind, or the cold would steal me away into darkness.

I rolled my shoulders as best I could, trying to ease the stiffness creeping in, but the chains tugged, reminding me of their brutal hold. My breath came faster now, not just from cold, but from the creeping panic I refused to name. The solitude was suffocating. The silence between the drunken jeers felt like a void waiting to swallow me whole.

I thought of the life I’d left behind—the missions, the blood, the shadows that felt like home. But none of it mattered here, bound and exposed beneath the indifferent stars.

Still, beneath the layers of cold and fear, a fire burned. It was faint, but it was there—the fierce, stubborn heart of a girl raised by a captain who never gave up on her. I would not be broken. Not here. Not like this.