unbroken

The prison reeked of blood, rot, and forgotten souls.

Chains clanked in the distance. Water dripped from somewhere unseen, the sound rhythmic, taunting. The deeper they dragged Sara into the underbelly of the Bloodthorn fortress, the colder the air became, like she was being swallowed whole by the very earth.

Her arms were limp, her legs too weak to carry her. Her skin was smeared with dirt and dried blood, but still she refused to cry out. The guards yanked her like an animal, iron grips bruising her flesh as they hauled her down the final set of stone steps into the dungeon reserved only for traitors and enemies of the Alpha.

The cell door groaned open.

Without warning, the butt of a spear slammed into her spine.

She fell hard, a cry escaping her lips before she could bite it back. The filthy stone floor tore into her already bleeding knees. Her chin struck the ground with a sickening crack.

“Teach her what happens to loudmouth slaves,” one guard snarled, retrieving a whip from a rusted hook on the wall.

The other leaned in close, his breath rancid. “No one defies the Alpha and walks free.”

The whip cracked through the air with a deafening snap—and struck.

Pain exploded across her back. She arched, biting down hard on her tongue to keep from screaming. Another blow came. Then a kick to her ribs. A punch to her jaw. The pain blurred into one relentless wave, but she didn’t beg. She didn’t whimper.

Even as they ripped the strength from her body, she smiled.

Blood streamed from her nose, and still she laughed—a hoarse, broken sound that chilled even the guards.

“You think this will break me?” she rasped, blinking through blood. “You think chains and beatings will erase who I am?”

Her voice wasn’t just rebellious. It was dangerous.

One guard hesitated, suddenly uneasy. The other spat at her, trying to shake off the fear crawling up his spine. “Maybe you’ll sing a different tune after a week down here with the rats.”

She lifted her head, one eye already swelling shut. “Tell your Alpha… if he wants me broken, he’ll have to come do it himself.”

That did it.

The last guard drove his boot into her stomach so hard that she finally coughed up blood. They left her there, bruised, battered, but not bowed. They poured a bucket of cold water over her before locking the cell door with a heavy clang.

Her wrists were shackled behind her. Her legs chained to the wall. Her body trembled violently, pain pulsing through every nerve.

And yet… that fire in her soul refused to die.

Elsewhere, James stood at the edge of his chamber window, watching the moonlight stretch across the Bloodthorn courtyard. His fists clenched the stone railing, his knuckles white.

The memory of his hand colliding with Sara’s cheek haunted him. The sound, the silence that followed, the raw betrayal in her eyes, it echoed louder than any war cry.

He’d seen the horror on the slaves’ faces.

Even Draven had smirked with satisfaction.

He had done his job, played the tyrant well.

But in private… he was unraveling.

She wasn’t just another slave. She had spoken with such fierce pride, such unshakable fire, that she’d pierced through the layers of his disguise.

He had hurt the only soul in that cursed camp who had reminded him of who he once was.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts.

“My lord,” a servant said, bowing. “Alpha Draven requests your presence in the Great Hall.”

James nodded, masking his inner turmoil with a cold expression. “I’ll be there.”

The hall was alive with whispered chatter when James arrived. Draven lounged on his throne like a panther watching prey. Varek stood rigid beside him, his jaw tight, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Garrick,” Draven said smoothly, a grin curling on his lips. “Our new commander.”

James bowed slightly.

“I heard what happened today. That girl, the defiant one. What’s her name again?”

“Sara,” Varek growled bitterly.

Draven chuckled. “Yes. Sara. Insolent thing. And you…” He pointed to James, eyes glittering. “You handled her like a true Alpha-in-waiting.”

“I did what was necessary,” James said evenly.

Draven stood and approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “No, you did what I wanted. And that’s why I trust you.”

James said nothing. His smile was thin. Behind his eyes, war brewed.

“I want you overseeing the prison now,” Draven said. “And the interrogation of the rebels. They respond better to fear, and you’ve proven yourself capable of delivering it.”

“I’ll make sure they remember your name,” James replied coolly, even as guilt dug deeper into his chest.

Deep below, Sara lay curled on her side, her body wracked with pain. Blood oozed from her cracked lips. Her breathing was ragged.

It was impossible to tell how long she’d been unconscious. Minutes? Hours?

She opened her eyes slowly, the flickering torchlight from the hallway casting long shadows across the floor.

Then she heard it.

A voice.

But it wasn’t coming from outside her cell.

It was inside her mind.

“Hold on, Sara. The darkness will not swallow you. You are not forgotten.”

She gasped, her breath catching. “Who… who’s there?” she croaked, too weak to rise.

Silence.

Then again, calm, comforting, mysterious.

“The fire in you is not yours alone. It is ancient. Sacred. The time will come.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Not from fear,  from the knowing. That she was not entirely alone.

That someone… something… was watching.

“Please,” she whispered, “tell me who you are.”

“Soon.”

And then the voice faded.

Back above, James stood on the tower balcony, the wind tugging at his cloak. The moonlight painted his face in silver sorrow.

He looked out across the camp, the cages, the barracks, the distant prison entrance.

She was down there. Alone. Bleeding. And he had put her there.

The voice of the wizard echoed in his mind:

“To defeat them, you must become what they fear.”

But what if, in becoming Garrick… he lost James forever?

He swallowed hard.

Far below, in her chains of iron and blood, Sara exhaled a shaky breath.

Her lips curled into a faint, battered smile.

She would not die in silence.

And they would not break her.

Not now. Not ever.