CHAPTER 2
940 Words
X Chapter Two X
Wren’s world returned to her broken in a million pieces the sound first, then pain, then the slow, sickening awareness that she couldn’t move.
“I hope you didn’t dose her too much, she's been sleeping for far too long.”
The voice sliced through the fog in her head, sharp enough to make her wince internally.
“I gave her half of what you instructed, ma’am. Though…” the second voice hesitated, “…she looked too small for that kind of dose.”
Wren’s lashes fluttered. Two blurry figures hovered above her before slowly sharpening into shape Mrs Ronoarh and her loyal servant, Willom. Their silhouettes were framed by the dim yellow light of an expensive chandelier that buzzed faintly overhead.
Her body lay helpless on a cushioned mattress that smelled of lavender and something rotten underneath fear, maybe. She tried to move a finger. Nothing. A toe. Nothing. Her limbs felt dipped in ice. She struggled harder, panic rising, a scream climbing her throat.
“Don’t push it.” Mrs Ronoarh’s cold voice cut through the room. The air was too cold for a place so beautifully decorated, with velvet curtains and gold‑rimmed furniture that sparkled cruelly under the chandelier.
“You should brace yourself for the future,” she said, heels clicking as she circled the room.
Click. Wren’s heartbeat.
Click._Wren’s terror.
Both sounds tangled together until she couldn’t tell which belonged to her.
“Who are you? And what do you want from me?” Wren whispered, her voice trembling.
“Why… why can’t I move?”
Mrs Ronoarh stopped walking. Slowly turned. Lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with pride and something darker. “How could you ask who I am? Everyone in this city—if not this entire country—knows me.” She smirked.
Wren blinked, confused and terrified all at once.
“I… I don’t know you,” she managed.
“I am Vina Ronoarh, wife of Andrew Ronoarh,” the woman declared, as if she were announcing royalty. The name hit Wren like a slap. Andrew Ronoarh. The richest family in all of Junesia. She had seen the name printed on newspapers in her grandmother’s living room.
“You know my husband—good,” Vina added. “But… why would a reputable family kidnap me?” Wren asked, voice cracking as her mind spun. Nothing made sense.
“Kidnap you?” Vina let out a soft laugh, the kind that made Wren’s stomach knot. “No, silly. I didn’t kidnap you.” Her smile widened, cruel and final. “I bought you.”
Wren’s heart dropped so fast she felt physically sick. “Grandmother… sold me? She sold me off to you?” Wren gasped.
“Yes. I gave your dear grandmother eighty million euros, and she promised never to look back.” This time, Wren didn’t feel her heart break—she felt it shatter.
“Grandmother sold me… that too for some money?” Her voice dissolved into a sob she couldn’t control. Tears rolled down her cheeks without permission, warm against her numb skin.
Vina turned slightly, watching the child cry with a strange softness. “Wren, dear, don’t cry.” Then the softness vanished. “You’ll be dying a just cause. When I sacrifice you, you’ll save thousands of lives, the lives of my people.”
The words didn’t register. Wren didn’t care about sacrifices or lives or causes. All she could think about was the betrayal the grandmother who raised her, the closest family she had. The sting was sharper than a swarm of hornets.
“So prepare yourself,” Vina said, heading for the door. “This evening… will be your very last.” She swept out of the room, her perfume lingering like poison in the air.
Willom gave Wren one long, unreadable look almost guilty, almost afraid before he, too, followed his mistress and shut the heavy door behind him.
Wren was alone. Alone with her tears. Alone with the crushing truth that the person she loved most had sold her like an object. She sobbed into the pillow, helpless, frozen, and heartbroken each tear carving the betrayal deeper into her chest. Tonight, her life would end. But right now? Right now, her heart had already been taken from her, and it definitely pained the most.
As the exhaustion dragged her deeper into the mattress, Wren’s vision blurred with fresh tears. Everything looked smeared and distant, like she was fading out of her own body. But even through the fog, her ears caught something... a sound she couldn’t ignore.
A boom.
Then another.
A slow, heavy drumming, deep enough to shake the air itself.
It repeated rhythmically, echoing through the mansion’s long corridors until the walls seemed to breathe with it.
The drums grew louder. Closer.
And beneath them… voices.
Footsteps.
A crowd a large audience approaching, chanting something she couldn’t understand. The sound swelled so violently that Wren felt it in her ribs, like the house itself was trembling.
“What… what is that?” she whispered, still numb from the drug, unable to lift even a hand.
Then she heard it a howl. Low at first, then rising into a sharp, chilling cry that clawed at her spine.
Her breath hitched.
“That…” she whispered, eyes widening. “Is that a…?”
Another howl answered from the distance, deeper and angrier this time.
“A werewolf?”
The word left her mouth in a confused gasp, her panic cutting through the fog as she stared toward the door terrified of whatever was coming.
- Writer
