Bound by Moonlight

Becoming a slave

Chapter Two: Becoming a Slave

Kaia’s POV

“The night I lost my family, they chained me instead of killing me.”

I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but the cold was the first thing I felt when I woke.

It was the kind of cold that lived in your bones, sharp and unrelenting. My back pressed against damp stone, my arms stretched above me, wrists rubbed raw by iron cuffs.

The dungeon reeked of rot and old blood. Water dripped somewhere in the dark, steady and cruel, counting moments I could no longer measure. Every breath tasted of fear.

Chains clattered in the cell beside me, followed by a groan. I wasn’t alone. Rogues? Prisoners? I didn’t care. I was too weak to scream, too numb to fight. My throat was dry, my stomach hollow.

Time didn’t exist here. Only silence, shattered by screams that weren’t mine—or footsteps that sometimes stopped outside my cell.

When they did, I learned quickly: stay still. Don’t look up. Don’t make a sound.

The guards didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. One glance from them said enough—that I was less than nothing, a thing to break. Maybe they were right. Maybe breaking me would be easy.

But I swore they wouldn’t. Not yet. Not ever. My parents deserved better than my surrender.

---

At some point—minutes, hours, I couldn’t tell—my mind drifted. Exhaustion pulled me into memory.

I saw my mother first, in the kitchen, flour dusting her hands as she smiled at me sneaking bread before dinner. “Hungry again?” she’d tease, pulling me into a hug that smelled of rosemary and sunlight.

Then my father—outside, sweat on his brow, calling me warrior-in-training. “Strength isn’t in your arms,” he used to say, crouching to meet my eyes. “It’s in your heart. Your spirit.”

I remembered them dancing in the living room when they thought no one was watching. My mother humming while brushing my hair. My father’s laughter shaking the walls.

We were happy. We were whole.

And now… I was here. Alone. Cold. Broken.

The memory slipped like smoke through my fingers. All I had left was stone and shackles.

My throat tightened. I wanted to scream, but the sound stayed locked inside me.

---

Boots shattered the silence. Heavy. Purposeful. Closer.

Keys jingled. A lock turned. The iron door creaked open.

Alpha Garret.

Kaelen’s father. My father’s sworn brother. Once a man who had eaten at our table, laughed with my parents. Now his gaze cut through me like I was filth on the floor.

“You’re awake,” he said flatly.

I said nothing. My silence was the only weapon I had left.

He stepped closer. “You should’ve died with them.”

My stomach twisted.

He crouched, eye to eye. Calm. Too calm. “Your parents betrayed this pack. They sided with rogues. And now… someone has to pay.”

Lies. All of it.

I forced the words past my cracked lips. “They didn’t betray you.”

His expression didn’t flicker. “Then you’ll suffer for a lie.”

He stood, his shadow stretching over me. “You’ll serve this pack. As a slave. A reminder of what betrayal costs. You breathe because I allow it.”

Rage burned through my exhaustion, hot and sharp. But the chains bit deeper, and he turned away before I could speak again.

“Clean her up,” he ordered the guard. “She starts tomorrow.”

The door slammed.

And just like that, my fate was sealed. Not to die. But to break.

---

But I didn’t break.

My heart pounded, my lip split between my teeth as I bit down hard, refusing to cry. Pain steadied me. Pain reminded me I was alive.

And then… something stirred.

It started in my chest, faint and low, like a spark under ash. A warmth that didn’t belong in this place. My shackled hands tingled, the air thickened.

Not wolf.

Not pack.

Older.

A golden shimmer flared beneath my skin—brief, fragile—then vanished.

My breath caught. I stared at my hands. Bruised. Bleeding. Ordinary. But not ordinary anymore.

Something deep inside me had answered the pain.

---

The door opened again. Softer this time. No heavy boots.

I looked up.

Kaelen.

The Alpha’s son. My childhood friend. The boy who had once sworn he’d stand with me on the night of my first shift. The shift that never came.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the bars. Not cruel, but distant. Changed.

“You’re still alive,” he said.

I laughed bitterly. “Disappointed?”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Why are you here, Kaelen? To call me a freak? A traitor’s daughter?”

He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it.

“I didn’t agree with this,” he said quietly. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The words twisted the knife. “But you let it happen.”

Silence stretched, heavy with everything we never said.

Finally, he stepped closer, voice low. “Something’s not right. About your parents. About all of this.”

Hope flared—and died just as quickly. “Then help me.”

His face hardened. “I can’t. Not yet.”

Of course not.

He turned away, but hesitated at the door. For a heartbeat, his eyes softened. The boy I used to know flickered in his gaze.

“Don’t let them break you,” he whispered.

And then he was gone.

Maybe they thought the chains already had. But deep inside, something new was stirring—and it refused to die.