*Chapter 10: The First Night and the Failed Run*
881 Words
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Night at the base was worse than day.
During the day there was noise. Orders. Movement. Distractions.
At night, there was just the tent. The one bed. And Colonel Lucien Devereaux.
He came in late. Uniform off, sleeves rolled up. Smelled like whiskey and authority.
Amara was sitting on the edge of the bed, back rigid, hands gripping Eleanor’s locket under her dress. She hadn’t touched the food they brought. Hadn’t spoken to the servant girl who tried to help her undress.
Lucien stopped. Looked at her. Looked at the untouched plate.
“You’ll eat,” he said. Not a question. An order.
Amara laughed. Bitter. Hollow. “I’ll do what I want.”
His jaw ticked. “This is not Bellewood Manor, Amara. This is my base. My rules. You will eat. You will rest. You will behave like a wife.”
“I am NOT your wife,” she snapped, standing. “You dragged me here. You called me that in front of your toy soldiers. That doesn’t make it true!”
“Careful,” he said, voice dropping low. Dangerous. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
“Then don’t!” She stepped closer. Chin up. Fire in her eyes. “Hit me, Colonel. Go on. You want me tamed? You want me obedient? Then hit me! Do it! Because I’d rather have your hand on my face than your name on my lips!”
She was daring him. Begging him. Anything to make him show his true face. Anything to prove to herself she wasn’t crazy for hating him.
His hand raised. Fast. Her eyes didn’t flinch. She stared right into his fist, chest heaving, daring him to make her father’s choice.
For a heartbeat, the whole tent held its breath.
Then Lucien’s hand dropped. He turned. Walked out. Tent flap slamming behind him.
Amara’s breath came out in a shuddering gasp. Victory? No. It was worse. He wouldn’t even give her that.
“Coward!” she shouted after him, ripping the tent flap open. “Is that all you are? You’ll drag a girl from her home, call her yours, but you won’t even look me in the eye when you do it?!”
He was striding across the yard, back to her. She followed, anger blaring in her, raining insults down on him like stones.
“You’re nothing! You’re a bully with a uniform! You command men because you’re too weak to command respect! You want a wife? Buy a doll! I’m Eleanor Bellewood’s daughter and I will never be your puppet!”
He didn’t turn around. Not once. Just kept walking until he disappeared into the command cabin.
Amara stood alone in the dark, chest burning, fists clenched. He didn’t hit her. But he didn’t hear her either. And somehow that was worse.
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Dawn came fast. Too fast.
She’d barely slept. The bed felt like a trap. So before the base woke up, before the orders started, she ran.
No bag. No plan. Just bare feet and desperation. She tiptoed between cabins, heart hammering, using the shadows like she used to use the trees at Bellewood. The outer fence was close. She could see it. Freedom smelled like dust and pine again.
She was three feet from the gap in the fence line when hands grabbed her.
Iron. From behind.
“Got her,” a voice grunted.
Amara screamed and twisted, kicking, clawing. “Let me go! Let me—”
It was a hard soldier. The soldier with cold eyes. He didn’t say another word. Just hauled her up like she weighed nothing and dragged her back.
Not to Lucien’s cabin. To the center of the yard. Where everyone could see.
By the time Lucien arrived, she was pinned by both arms, hair wild, dress torn from the struggle. The whole base was watching now. Silent. Commanded silence.
Lucien stopped in front of her. Didn’t touch her. Just studied her. That slow, predatory smile back on his face.
“Tried to run, Mrs. Devereaux?” he said softly. Only she could hear the edge in it. “First night, and you already disobeyed a direct order to stay in quarters.”
Amara spat at his boots. “I don’t take orders from you.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. But he didn’t raise his hand. Not here. Not with them watching.
He stepped closer. Voice for her ears only. “You want to test me, Amara? Keep testing me. But remember this: every time you run, I’ll bring you back. Every time you fight, I’ll cage you tighter. And one day, you’ll be too tired to fight. That’s when you’ll behave.”
He turned to the soldier. “Lock her in. No meals until she learns to obey. And double the guards.”
Ethan nodded. Dragged her toward a smaller cabin at the edge of camp. A cabin with no windows. Just wooden walls and a single cot.
As the door closed behind her, Amara sank to her knees. Not crying. Not yet.
But outside, she could hear it. The sound of boots. Two guards now, not one. Posted right outside the cabin.
She was in a cage inside a cage inside a cage.
And Lucien was waiting for her to break.
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- Writer
