Marked
1333 Words
Rhea
I wake up to the sound of the cell door creaking open again. The noise pulls me from a restless sleep. I sit up quickly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in through the small, barred window. This cell is disorienting. Days blur together here, but it's still an upgrade from the one my mother and I were kept in before. The thought of her alone fills me with a heavy sadness. I wonder how she’s been coping without me.
The guard whose name I’ve come to know as Ivan, enters. He carries a bowl of something that smells delicious, like cinnamon and nutmeg. Ever since I was detained in this cell, I’ve been treated better than I’d expected. I get three meals a day, and no one's hurt me. It’s a strange kindness in a place like this.
“Good day?” I ask Ivan, trying to catch his eye.
Usually, he gives me at least a nod or a shake of his head. But today, I get nothing. His face is stern, and there's a stiffness to his movements that’s not usually there. Something is not right.
“Everything good?” I ask again, hoping for a response this time.
He doesn’t answer, and just sets the bowl down on the small wooden table by the bed. The silence is unnerving.
“What’s wrong?” I press harder, “Did I do something wrong?” my voice is a bit louder now.
Finally, he looks at me, and his eyes are filled with something I can't quite read, but looks a lot like pity.
“I heard some news,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to decide how much to tell me.
“What news?” My heart pounds erratically in my chest. I can feel the panic rising now.
“Your mother,” he starts, then stops, as if the words are stuck in his throat. “She’s very ill.
The very core of my world tilts on its axis. My mother. Sick. The tiny room suddenly feels too small, the walls appearing to be closing in. I can barely breathe. The simple process of taking in air and breathing it out suddenly arduous.
“How did you hear this?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“News of your father’s betrayal has travelled across, and I have some friends, who are stationed in that prison. They made me aware of the situation,” he answers.
“I have to get out of here,” I mutter more to myself. Then turning to Ivan I say, “Please, you have to let me go to her,” I beg, my voice trembling. “I need to see her. She might need me.”
He shakes his head, looking tortured. “You know I can’t,” he says. “The Alpha would have my head for that.
Tears stream down my face as I get down on my knees, ignoring the pain that sears through my knees as it makes contact with the hard concrete floor. I fold my hands in front of me. “Please, Ivan. She might die before I ever get a chance to leave this place. Please, just let me see her.”
He says nothing, as he just stands there, looking at me. His face a mask of conflict. Then, without a word, he turns and walks out, but just as he’s almost out of the door, I see something fall from his fingers. The keys. They land close to my cell, within reaching distance. I can hardly believe my luck. My heart races as I grab the keys, my hands shaking as I fumble with them, trying to find the right one. Finally, the lock clicks open. I push the door and it swings silently on its hinges. I take a deep breath, stepping out into the corridor. The place is dimly lit, but soon my eyes adjust to the darkness. I move quietly, sticking to the shadows. My mind racing as I try to think of the way out of this place. I have to find a way out without being seen. As I near the exit, I hear voices. The guards. I freeze, my blood roaring in my ears. Then I spot a small door to my left and slip through it. To my relief, it leads outside, into the cover of the trees. I keep low, moving from bush to bush. My eyes darting around, looking for any sign of the soldiers.
I spot a large tree and decide to climb it. I know I can’t possibly get far before they come looking for me. But I can take refuge here till dark and then make my escape. The branches of the tree are thick and provide good cover. I hoist myself up, my muscles straining as I find a sturdy branch and settle in, trying to catch my breath.
Below, I see the soldiers searching, their eyes scanning the ground. They’re getting closer. I hold my breath, pressing myself against the trunk of the tree.
“Where do you think she went?” One asks.
“She can’t have gone far. I suggest we split up so that we can cover more ground,” another suggests.
Soon they divide up and pass from under me. I let out a small breath I don’t even realize I’ve been holding in. Just as I think I’m safe, one of them looks up. Our eyes meet, and I see his widening with recognition. My heart f*****g stops.
There she is!” he shouts, pointing.
Before I can react, the rest make their way over, and soon, they’re all surrounding the tree. I scramble to climb higher, but it’s no use. They grab me, pulling me down. I don’t fight as they lead me to the palace. All the fight I had in me has dissipated. Leaving me hollow and weak. They drag me back to the palace, and into the courtroom, where I find Daciano waiting for me. When his gaze flicks to me, I suck in a breath as I take in his eyes. They’re ice cold and unflinching, with undiluted rage swirling in them. He stands up and walks towards me. His every step measured. I can see the anger that radiates from his every step he takes that brings him closer to me.
“You thought you could escape from me?” he snarls. His voice is low and dangerous when he’s mere inches away from me.
I say nothing, my eyes trained on the floor, unable to meet his unnerving gaze.
“You have no idea who I am, or what you’ve been brought here to do.” He continues, his voice like shards of ice. “But most of all, you don’t seem to understand that I own you now.”
Then in front of everyone, he holds me back, turning me around so I’m facing everyone present. All the guard on patrol, the maids scurrying about, the council members. Everyone has their eyes fixed on me with bated breaths, anticipating what the Lycan’s next move is going to be. He could so easily snap my slender neck with his huge hands, ending my life. I realize sadly, that death might not be the worst thing right now. With nothing to live for anymore, it’d be a respite from the harsh realities of my unfortunate life. At least that’s what I think. But Daciano has other ideas in mind. He grabs me, his grip like iron, as he holds me against himself, my back flush against his front. He lowers his head to my neck, and i can feel his canines lengthen against my skin. My heart quickens. “What-“
The question dies on my lips as his canines tear into my skin, as he buries them deep into my neck, marking me.
- Writer
