Bella’s world was a haze of pain and humiliation as the guards dragged her out of the cage. Every inch of her body screamed in protest, but there was nothing she could do. The suppressive magic Esmera had cast on her made it impossible for her to shift or even summon enough strength to fight back. She was nothing more than a shell of the person she had once been.
The guards jeered as they yanked her by the chains, their hands rough and uncaring. They shoved her into the filthy, cold halls of the Nyxthorn stronghold, where the air reeked of sweat, blood, and decay. The stone floors were stained with years of grime, and the walls seemed to close in on her, trapping her in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
“Get to work, rogue slut,” one of the guards spat, pushing her forward with a cruel laugh. Bella’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. They could humiliate her, break her down, but they could never take away her spirit. Not yet.
They forced her onto her knees, her hands scraping against the dirt and muck that coated the floor. The guards laughed at her dismay, delighted by her struggle. “You’re lucky we don’t make you clean with your tongue,” another guard taunted, his voice mocking.
But Bella didn’t respond. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her weak. She bit down on her pride, focusing on the task at hand—scrubbing the floors as they ordered. Every movement made her body ache, but she held her head high, ignoring the insults thrown her way.
She had endured worse in her life. She had survived so much—being abandoned, being lost, being rejected. She would survive this too. She had to.
But that didn’t stop the words from stinging. Rogue slut. That was what they called her now. And the thought of Kael, of her mate, not being there to protect her, twisted something deep inside her. She had promised to never let herself be broken, to never let them take her spirit, but the loneliness gnawed at her.
As she scrubbed the floor, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Her heart dropped when she saw Esmera’s silhouette in the doorway. The woman’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched Bella on her knees, a perfect display of her power over her.
“You look pathetic,” Esmera sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “Look at you, begging for mercy without even knowing it. I told you, Bella, you’re nothing. Nothing at all.”
Bella kept her gaze steady, refusing to look away. But that only seemed to provoke Esmera further. With a swift motion, she crossed the room and slapped Bella across the face, the force of the blow ringing through her skull. Bella’s cheek burned where Esmera’s hand had made contact, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t scream.
Esmera’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “Still proud, are you? Still too proud to beg for mercy?”
Bella’s jaw tightened, and she refused to give her the satisfaction. “I won’t beg you,” she whispered, her voice low but unwavering.
The silence between them was thick with tension. Esmera’s fury built in the air, and for a moment, Bella thought she might strike her again. But Esmera only stood there, glaring down at her, her chest heaving with anger.
“You will regret this,” Esmera hissed, her voice seething with venom. “You think you’re strong, but I’ll break you. I’ll break you and make sure you’ll never remember who you were before this. You’ll learn your place, Bella. You will learn it soon enough.”
Bella met her gaze with unflinching defiance, refusing to give Esmera the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. Despite the pain, despite the humiliation, she remained strong. She couldn’t let Esmera win. She couldn’t let the darkness consume her.
Without another word, Esmera turned and left the room, her footsteps fading into the distance. Bella stayed kneeling on the floor, the chains biting into her wrists as she slowly rose to her feet. Her body felt broken, bruised, but there was still a part of her that refused to give in. She wouldn’t let this be her end.
But as she turned to leave the room, her legs wobbling from exhaustion, a quiet voice from the shadows stopped her.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the voice whispered, barely audible. Bella’s heart skipped, and she turned toward the sound. A figure stepped forward from the corner of the dim room—a fellow prisoner, gaunt and hollow-eyed, dressed in rags. She looked at Bella with pity, as though she already knew what was coming for her.
Bella took a cautious step forward, unsure whether to trust the woman or not. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice rough from the hours of forced labor.
The prisoner’s gaze darkened, and she leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. “No one survives this place. Not the way you think you will.”
Bella’s heart sank at the words, her pulse quickening as the weight of her situation settled around her. She had always known that Nyxthorn was ruthless, but hearing it from someone who had lived through the horrors of this place made it feel even more real. She had to escape. She had to survive.