His Enemy's Bride, His fated Luna

CHAPTER 2

Ariana

I opened my eyes to a dim light. I sighed. What happened? Where was I?

It was at this time that the stench of the place hit me. It smelt partly like rotten tomatoes and partly like rotten carcasses. My eyes soon adjusted to the poor lighting of the place and I began to see a bit more clearly.

I looked towards the far wall and saw bones. A skeleton and from the looks of it, it was not too long ago that that individual was alive last.

I looked up, beside me and at the floor. The structures of this place were strikingly familiar. I finally realized where I was.

A dungeon.

A filthy, godforsaken dungeon. Was this what I was reduced to? A mere prisoner. I winced, trying to remember the events that brought me here. I sighed as I recollected.

I shifted instinctively, trying to get up to stretch my body but a metallic clink froze me in place. I looked down, my heart rate still uneven from what I just went through. Thick iron shackles encircled my wrists, chaining me to the wall above my head.

I was trapped in a kneeling position, the rough stone scraping my knees. What was this? They couldn’t even treat me with dignity by at least leaving me in a comfortable position? At least I now knew why my body hurt so much.

Panic rose in me as I searched the ceilings, windows and door for a way out only to find nothing, but I shoved it down with clenched teeth.

I couldn’t allow myself to lose my mind. If I did, I would never get out.

I jerked against the chains, testing their strength. They didn’t budge. The shackles bit into my wrists, scraping skin raw, but I kept pulling, twisting, thrashing with everything I had. The chains rattled loudly, echoing through the cavernous stone cell, but the metal held firm.

After what felt like forever, breathless and furious, I slumped against the wall, my body burning with effort.

That was when I heard it.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Approaching.

The heavy door groaned open, spilling in more torchlight, blinding me momentarily.

Three men entered.

Two wore black cloaks and silver masks that obscured everything but their eyes — cold, calculating eyes that regarded me like a caged animal. But the third man… the one who walked between them, the one whose voice haunted the fading edges of my memory, wore no mask at all.

And gods, he was…

Terrifying.

He stood tall, broad-shouldered, and deadly, the very embodiment of danger wrapped in lean, powerful muscle. His messy black hair framed a face marked by jagged scars — not ones that marred his looks, but rather enhanced them, making him look like someone who had fought many wars. His eyes were black, cold and bottomless.

He smiled, slow and mocking, as he took in the sight of me chained to the wall.

“I’m glad that you’re finally awake,” he said, his voice low and mocking. “For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to wake up again.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you glad that I’m awake? Did I fall asleep out of my own volition?” I snapped, my voice hoarse but steady. “Let me go now, and I’ll tell my mate to be gentle when he’s breaking your bones.”

The man chuckled — a sound that was more dangerous than amused — and stepped closer.

“It’s cute you believe that he’s going to come to get you,” he murmured, his mouth curling into a devilish smile that made my skin crawl. He leaned in. “You fail to realise that this isn’t a fairytale. No one’s coming to save you. You’re my prisoner now and no one is going to be able to change that.”

“You don’t know who my mate is, do you?” I asked.

“Alpha Lucian, son of Alpha Draven. The warrior Alpha of mooncrest,” the masked figure smiled with a single cheek making my eyes widen subtly but not noticeably in shock. “I know him very well and that’s how I know that taking you from him is just what it takes to make him lose his mind.”

I barked a short, humorless laugh trying to mask my surprise. “Enjoy this moment while it lasts — because I’m really going to enjoy watching you beg for your life when my Alpha comes for me.”

He tilted his head, studying me with a kind of detached amusement. Then, without another word, he turned and began walking toward the door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said over his shoulder, the amusement never leaving his voice.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me once again in the heavy silence of the dungeon.

I exhaled shakily, sagging against the wall. My wrists throbbed where the shackles dug into them, but I refused to show pain, to show fear. If I was going to die here, I would make sure not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Minutes later, the door creaked open again.

Two guards entered, carrying a tray of food — a crust of bread, a chunk of dried meat, and a small tin cup of water. Gourmet dining at its finest.

One guard moved to unlock my shackles, keeping a wary distance.

The moment my wrists were free, I rubbed them tenderly, feeling the heat and bruising already blooming under my skin. I caught the guards’ eyes — the only part of their faces not hidden behind their masks.

And I smiled.

Their brows furrowed in confusion.

Good.

With a surge of energy, I sprang to my feet.

The first guard reacted too late. I drove my knee straight into his gut, and as he doubled over, gasping, I grabbed the tray from his hands and smashed it into the second guard’s head. Metal clanged against skull, and he staggered back with a grunt.

I didn’t stop.

I stomped on the first guard’s foot, then elbowed him sharply in the throat. He crumpled to the ground, coughing and choking. I pivoted to the second, aiming a punch at his masked face, but he blocked it clumsily. Still, he was off-balance. I hooked my leg behind his and shoved him backward, sending him sprawling into the wall.

Both guards lay groaning at my feet within moments.

Breathing heavily, my knuckles smarting, I sprinted toward the door, heart pounding wildly.

Freedom.