3: Saved by the stranger

BRIAR

There was no source of light in the dungeon, so I had no idea how long I'd been here. The only thing that told me that I hadn't been here for too long was my stomach. It wasn't growling. I wasn't hungry yet. My physical body wasn't failing yet, so I knew I hadn't been locked up for long.

After I was apprehended at the train station, I was dragged back to the capital and into the asylum, where I was locked up without food and water by one of the guards who dragged me here. The one who locked the iron gate had looked at me with lust, and while I was being locked up, his hands grazed my ass and boobs far too many times to be a mistake.

But I couldn't even bring myself to think about that. I could only think about the fact that I was now here and I'd never be able to leave again, except in a body bag.

The sound of the door rattling distracted me, and I instinctively shrank into myself. A guard entered. It was the same one that had touched me inappropriately, and before I could say a thing, he had thrown the torchlight on the floor and advanced towards me.

I recognized the look in his eyes, but I was no match for his strength. He threw me to the floor, pinned my ankles together with his as he undid his belt.

“Please, no. Don't do this.”

“Just shut up and take it, bitch,” he replied, “you're going to be scarred so terribly in the next hour that no man would be able to look at you again. The only time to fuck you without repulsion is now.”

I struggled and fought with my hands, but he easily pinned them above my head, and just before he could tear my clothes off me, a loud bell that deafened every other thing rang out.

He cursed, and he didn't relent in tearing my clothes off, but the alarm continued until he was forced to stop. He stood up, stared at me in disgust and anger, before he spat right on my face and grabbed me by my hair.

That was how I was dragged out from the dungeons to the open field where thousands of slaves were lined up, and the head of the asylum sat on a throne-like chair that overlooked where the enslaved were arranged.

I was tied up to a chair with nothing less than three charcoal stoves surrounding me with branding irons in them.

My blood ran cold as the realization of what they were about to do to me dawned on me. That was what the guard meant when he said my body would be scarred so terribly…

My body started to shake, and I tried to get out of my confines, but it was futile.

The head of the asylum, with a bald head and an ugly scar running from his head through his face, addressed the crowd. He told them what I did and that he wanted every single one of them to watch my punishment.

“To curb people trying to run away from the asylum, she'd be scarred on every single part of her body. So watch and listen to the sound of her screams and let that be a lesson to dare not go against Alpha Azrael’s rules.”

He leaned forward on his seat, eyes glistening in anticipation of the pain that was about to be inflicted on me, and when he raised his hand, the three guards around me picked the branding iron from the stoves.

The more he lowered his hand, the more the guards brought the irons close to me. I could smell them. My face burned from the heat. My body heated up, and I broke out in hot sweat.

They were close now, and I closed my eyes. There was no way out. I was going to be burned and scarred, and even if I managed to survive this ordeal, my life wouldn't remain the same.

I expected the sizzling sound and smell of my body burning. I expected to feel an insane amount of pain, but that didn't happen. Instead, the heat on my face reduced, and a hushed silence fell over the field.

The first thing that registered was a powerful, intimidating aura, so strong it nearly forced me to my knees. I opened my eyes slowly to see a man dressed in riches and gold walking towards me while the head of asylum practically flew from where he was to join him.

The man was familiar, and I didn't need to stare too much to know who he was. It was the same man I saved on the train. It was the same man I had badmouthed to Alpha Azrael.

But what was he doing here? How could he even be here with an aura that could only belong to ancient alphas and an attire that looked so expensive it could feed the whole capital?

“Alpha Azrael,” the head of the asylum greeted, and he bent down till he was almost on the ground.

Alpha Azrael? He couldn't be Alpha Azrael.

The stranger was now right in front of me and staring at me with those deep grey eyes of his. His expression almost looked wounded as he took my disheveled and battered state in.

“It's a good thing you are here. She's the new slave who ran away instead of coming here when she lost her mate and wolf. I was about to teach her a lesson, but now that you're here, I'll ask for more branding irons so we can give you a show that's worthy of your attention.”

He spoke in a rush and desperation, and he raised his hand to signal to the guards around to bring more branding irons.

The stranger didn't tear his eyes off me.

“Untie her,” he said, almost too quietly that I hardly heard him, and the asylum head's mouth dropped open.

“Alpha Azreal, she is…”

“You know I hate to repeat myself.”

The asylum head’s body shook as he looked away from him to me with a frown on his face. He was confused, and so was I. I wasn't even sure if this was real. My vision was clouding over, and it felt like I was being drained of my energy as the seconds ticked by.

When he waved his hand again to summon a guard to untie me, the stranger pushed him to the ground with ease, but even that was enough to knock his head on the chair’s handle.

“Do it yourself, Castle.”

Castle hastily complied, and by the time the last restraint came off, I was completely drained, and I couldn't stop my body from falling and my eyes from closing.

The last thing I remembered was lifted into a pair of hands that felt like home, while the crowd broke into whispers as I was moved through the air.