Fated to Fall

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Shadows Among Wolves

The council chamber emptied, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud threatening to burst.

Virella’s footsteps echoed coldly down the stone corridors of the fortress. Every step was calculated, every breath controlled. She didn’t belong here. She never would. Her goal was clear: escape. Freedom at any cost.

Behind closed doors, murmurs rose—a bitter symphony of fear and doubt.

“She’s a weapon no one controls,” Mara hissed to her conspirators. “If the Sovereign’s grip weakens, so does the pack.”

A council elder’s voice was grim. “Then we must make sure she breaks before she destroys us all.”

Virella tightened her fists. She would break no one’s will but her own.

Private Chambers: Iron and Fire

The door slammed open with no warning. Draven entered like a storm unleashed—no softness, no questions, only raw authority. His silver eyes burned with unyielding command.

“You are mine,” he said flatly, his voice steel and shadow. “Your will bends to mine. There is no room for defiance.”

Virella met his gaze, fierce and unyielding. “I’m no one’s possession.”

His lips curled in a cold smile—more predator than man. “Your body is mine. Your child will be mine. Your freedom is a lie.”

She gritted her teeth, anger flaring. “Then hate me. Hate everything I am.”

Draven’s eyes narrowed, his tone merciless. “Hate will not free you. Only obedience will.”

He turned, already dismissing her words as weakness. “Prepare yourself. You will bear me a son. That is law. That is fate.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, fury burning fierce. If hate was what it took to survive—then so be it.

In the Shadows: The Web Tightens

In secret chambers, Mara and the faction wove their dark schemes. Virella’s spirit was a threat to be extinguished—or controlled.

“She will either break or burn this pack to ash,” Mara whispered, eyes gleaming. “We must decide which, before the Sovereign’s wrath consumes us all.”

The night air was thick with the scent of rain as Virella pressed her back against the cold stone wall, her breath shallow but steady. The fortress loomed behind her, but the gates—so close, so tantalizing—were just beyond reach. She’d learned enough of its defenses by now, the way the guards shifted in their patrols, the gaps in the fortress's iron-clad routine.

Tonight was her chance. Tonight, she would be free.

Virella’s heart pounded as she crept down the narrow hall, her mind focused on the darkened exit at the rear of the fortress. She had every intention of escaping, disappearing into the wilderness where no one could control her. Draven’s word was law, but she had no intention of living by it. She wasn’t going to be his breeding tool. She wasn’t going to be anyone’s possession.

But as she neared the gate, the distinct sound of footsteps echoed from behind.

Her pulse quickened.

Virella’s eyes darted toward a small passage that led to the dungeons, but before she could move, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rynar’s voice was low, unyielding—his shadow fell across the stone like an iron bar.

Virella froze, but she didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Not yet.

“Nowhere,” she said, her voice steady, yet her heart raced. She couldn’t show fear. “Just needed some air.”

Rynar moved in closer, blocking her path. His eyes were cold, calculating. “You’re not fooling anyone. You were leaving, weren’t you?”

There was no point in denying it. Virella turned to face him, fire in her gaze. “I won’t stay here. I won’t let anyone control me.”

Rynar's expression hardened, but there was something almost respectful in his gaze. “Draven won’t like this.”

“I don’t care what Draven likes,” she spat.

Before she could react, Rynar seized her by the wrist, his grip tight, unforgiving. “I don’t think you understand the consequences of disobeying him. If you want to fight him, you’ll have to get through me first.”

Virella’s body tensed as Rynar hauled her back toward the center of the fortress, each step a heavy reminder of her captivity. As they approached the Sovereign’s chambers, the sounds of her escape attempt still fresh in the air, Rynar’s voice remained impassive.

“I’ll report this to Draven. You’ll regret this.”

The doors to Draven’s chambers opened with a resounding thud as Rynar dragged Virella inside. Draven stood by the window, his back to her, exuding the cold dominance that always followed him. His presence was like a storm, and Virella’s chest tightened as he turned toward them.

His silver eyes locked on her—no mercy, no softness.

“What have you done?” Draven’s voice was a low growl, tinged with an edge that made her spine stiffen.

“I tried to leave,” Virella answered, her voice defiant, though her pulse thundered. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

Draven’s eyes darkened. “You think I don’t know that? Do you think your will will break mine?”

Virella lifted her chin, staring at him with unyielding eyes. “I won’t be part of your plans. You can’t make me a tool.”

Draven didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he surveyed her with a look that weighed more than a thousand words. Then, without a flicker of hesitation, he turned toward Rynar.

“Increase her guard,” Draven ordered, his voice sharp and commanding. “She won’t be allowed to roam without surveillance.”

Rynar nodded, stepping back to carry out the command, but not before his gaze lingered on Virella—understanding mixed with the faintest trace of sympathy.

Draven then focused on Virella, his gaze as cold as ever. “I gave you a chance to comply. Now, you will stay here—under my control.”

Virella’s heart sank, but she refused to show it. She would never bow to him.

But Draven wasn’t done.

As Rynar left to organize the new guards, Draven’s eyes softened—just slightly. His gaze was still firm, but there was an unusual tension in the air.

“You will need to prepare for the child,” he said, his voice cold but with an underlying practicality. “I can’t have you unfit when the time comes.”

Virella narrowed her eyes. “And what will you do? Lock me in a cage until I’m ready to serve you?”

Draven ignored her sarcasm and nodded to the door. “I’ll send someone to help. She’ll train you, ensure you’re fit and prepared. You’ll learn to accept your role.”

Virella’s eyes flashed. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Draven’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile—just a fleeting acknowledgment of her defiance. “You will learn. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before she could retort, a woman entered the room. She was a healer—one Virella had seen around but never spoken to. Her dark eyes were soft but calculated, and her expression revealed nothing as she met Virella’s gaze.

“This is Arwen,” Draven said flatly. “She will be your guide. She’ll teach you how to prepare for the birth.”

Virella didn’t want to look at Arwen, but she forced herself to. The woman seemed like a shadow in Draven’s service—quiet, obedient, but not without her own secrets.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Draven said before walking out of the room, his presence lingering like a storm cloud in his wake.

The door closed with a soft click, and for the first time since arriving at the fortress, Virella was left with someone who wasn’t a guard or an enemy. Arwen stepped forward, offering a slight bow.

“I understand the difficulty of your situation,” Arwen said gently, her voice calm but firm. “But for the sake of your future child—and your future—you must learn to adapt. The Sovereign will have his way, regardless of resistance.”

Virella glared at her, but there was something in Arwen’s gaze—something that felt almost like sympathy. Despite the power dynamic between them, Arwen didn’t seem to be an enemy. Still, Virella wasn’t ready to trust anyone.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, though her tone softened slightly. “I’m not part of his plans.”

Arwen gave a small, knowing smile. “But you are. You can either accept it and survive… or fight and fall.”

The words were a sharp reminder of the situation she couldn’t escape from.