The Bond That Burns

Burnt

Chapter Three

The cell stank of sweat, smoke, and blood even the floor was damp with old filth, the air thick enough to choke.

Isabella lay sprawled in the corner, her head bowed low, iron chains anchoring both her wrists to the wall.

Her hair hung in tangled ropes over her face, sticky with dried blood.

Sweat clung to her skin like a second layer, tracing lines down her neck.

Her breath came shallow, her lips trembling the stones beneath her felt icy, biting through the thin fabric of her torn dress.

She thought she was numb, she thought pain couldn’t reach her anymore.

And then she smelled him.

The scent slipped in faint but unmistakable, a cruel ghost of memory—his scent.

It struck her like a blade, cutting through the fog of her exhaustion and her body jerked violently, her eyes widening with frenzy.

“No! No, please!” she shrieked, her voice hoarse, shredded from too many nights of screaming. “Don’t let me—don’t let him near me! Get that bastard away from me!”

She screamed at the top of her voice as her whole frame convulsed.

She clawed at the floor until her nails cracked against stone, dragging bloody streaks across it.

She pulled so hard at the chains her wrists split open, fresh blood spilling over the iron.

“Please! No, no, no—help me!” Her voice cried out breaking into animalistic cries.

The heavy iron door clanged open and a guard stepped in, lantern light spilling over her writhing figure.

He froze for a moment, watching her thrash like a caged beast.

“Hell’s teeth…” he muttered, backing out quickly.

His boots clattered down the corridor as he shouted, “Get the dust—she’s raving again!”

Moments later, he returned with another man carrying a small clay pot.

Without hesitation, the second guard dipped his hand inside and flung a handful of bitter powder into Isabella’s face.

She coughed violently, choking as the sharp taste burned her nostrils and throat.

Her screams faltered into ragged gasps and her body shook, her frenzy dulling until she sagged forward, trembling.

Her eyes rolled back, then fluttered open again—bloodshot, unfocused, but still burning with madness.

She whispered, her words tumbling broken and strange. “Roses… roses in the fire… ha… hahahaha… chains can’t hold the sun…”

The first guard smirked. “She’s raving like a lunatic.”

His partner chuckled. “Or maybe she’s just showing her true self, nothing but a broken thing and to think we can't even have fun with her he concluded.”

Just as Isabella’s head jerked up suddenly, her lips twisting into a cracked smile.

Her teeth gleamed red in the torchlight as she giggled, the sound high and eerie, echoing off the stone walls.

The guard sneered and stepped closer, glaring down at her.

“Wipe that grin off your filthy face you disgusting rogue w***e, he spat at Isabella,

As he bent down until their eyes met and his voice dropped, full of venom.

Isabella’s smile widened as blood dripped from her split lip as she giggled harder, the sound like splintered glass.

She didn’t reply in words, only tilted her head, muttering gibberish—nonsense syllables that made the guard’s lip curl in anger.

“Think this is funny, do you?” His voice grew sharper well we’ll see just how much you laugh.”

He said and turned on his heel and marched to the furnace blazing in the corner of the room.

With deliberate slowness, he pulled out a branding iron, its tip glowing white-hot, the heat shimmering in the air.

Isabella’s manic smile faltered and her entire body stiffened as dread crashed into her chest.

“No…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, please, not again, no ,not again!”

The second guard laughed, folding his arms as if settling to watch a play.

“Do it, teach the b***h her place.”

The man strode back, the iron hissing faintly in the air.

Isabella pressed herself against the wall, chains rattling as she tried to curl away.

“No! Please! I’ll do anything—don’t touch me with that!”

He grinned, merciless. “Beg louder I want to hear it.”

Her scream split the air as the iron pressed into her stomach.

The sound of burning flesh hissed, filling the room with the sickening stench. Isabella convulsed violently, her body arching off the ground as if trying to rip itself free of its own skin.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The scream ripped through her throat until blood tinged her voice.

She dragged herself helplessly, scraping her knees raw, chains sparking against the floor.

The guards’ laughter rang in her ears as she cried.

At last, he pulled the brand away.

As smoke rose from the blistered wound seared into her stomach.

Isabella slumped, trembling, her breathing shallow, but her eyes burned with defiance even through the tears streaking down her face.

The guard tossed the iron back into the fire with a hiss. He straightened, smirking. “That’s better, let that remind you what you are.”

Isabella coughed, blood spattering her chin her voice cracked, but it carried fury.

“I’ll make you pay every one of you I’ll make you choke on the screams you forced from me.”

And immediately she said that the guard turned back, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Still got fire in you, rogue?” He said and grabbed another brand from the furnace, hotter, and brighter. “Well let’s see how long it can lasts.”

He said as he advanced towards her again, lifting the hot iron toward her face.

Isabella’s body shook violently, tears spilling as she screamed. “No! Not my face! Please—please,

The brand drew closer, heat licking her cheek.

But then the door slammed open.

And a third guard rushed in, panting, his face pale with urgency. “Stop! Drop it—now!”

The branding guard paused, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “What in the hell are you doing?”

The newcomer swallowed hard, then barked, “By order of the head commander! The Alpha himself requests the slave.

The man with the brand lowered it slowly, glaring down at Isabella’s broken form. “Hmph. Looks like the Alpha’s interest is the only thing saving your worthless hide.”

The guard sneered as he snapped his fingers, and more guards stormed into the cell.

Without care, they unclamped the chains from the wall and yanked Isabella forward.

Her body was frail, trembling, but they showed no mercy.

The first pull sent her crashing face-first into the dirt.

She coughed violently, blood streaking her lips.

When she tried to rise, a guard only tightened his grip on the chain and dragged her harder, scraping her skin raw against the rough stone floor.

“Agh—!” Isabella cried out, her voice cracking with pain.

Her arms twisted unnaturally as the iron links bit into her flesh.

Her knees scraped open, leaving trails of blood, but the guards didn’t flinch.

They hauled her like a carcass, her body jerking with every tug.

She wanted to scream, but only broken gasps escaped.

Each scrape, each pull carved more torment into her, yet their faces stayed cold, untouched by her suffering.

The guards dragged Isabella across the dirt, her body scraping against the cold stone until streaks of blood marked her trail.

She coughed and gasped, too weak to fight, her wrists burning from the iron links still clamped around them.

With one final yank, they hauled her into the Alpha’s house and threw her down onto the polished floor.

She lay sprawled, breath ragged, her chest rising and falling in shallow heaves.

For a moment, she thought she might faint.

But then her blurry vision cleared—and she saw them.

Two elderly women stood by the doorway, their faces carved with disapproval, eyes narrowing at the sight of her like she was filth staining their clean walls.

Isabella tried to push herself up, groaning as her bones protested, but before she could gather strength, the women closed in.

“Up,” one snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. Together, they grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet.

Pain exploded through her ribs, and she couldn’t stop the low cry that tore from her throat.

They didn’t care. Step by step, they dragged her through the corridor, her bare feet scraping the floor, until they shoved her into a shower room.

The sound of rushing water filled her ears before the icy stream slammed into her skin. She gasped, her body jerking as the cold bit into her wounds.

The women scrubbed her roughly, as if trying to wash away more than dirt, ignoring her groans of pain.

When it was over, they threw a plain gown over her frail frame—simple, clean, but devoid of warmth. Isabella staggered, clutching the fabric with trembling fingers.

Her mind spun with questions, her heart thudding in confusion.

As the question pressed at the edge of her lips, Isabella turned slowly toward one of the women, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She was about to speak when a sharp voice cut through the silence outside.

“The Luna has arrived!” the guard’s call echoed into the room.

Instantly, the two elderly women stiffened. They dropped Isabella’s arms and stepped back, bowing their heads with reverence. Their faces, once twisted with disgust, now carried a sudden, trembling respect.

The air seemed to shift as a figure entered. A woman swept in with the kind of presence that filled the entire room. Her steps were slow, deliberate, her aura commanding without a word. Power and authority clung to her like a cloak, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Isabella’s gaze flicked up, weary and unamused. Her lips curled into the faintest smirk before she rolled her eyes.

That tiny gesture was all it took.

The Luna’s eyes flashed with fire. Without hesitation, she strode forward, her palm cutting through the air before crashing hard against Isabella’s cheek.

Crack!

The sound echoed sharply, the sting exploding across Isabella’s face. She staggered backwards, almost losing her balance, her hand shooting up to cradle her throbbing cheek. Her breaths came ragged, her jaw clenched against the pain.

For a heartbeat, silence hung in the room—heavy and dangerous.