THE CAPTIVE'S LOVE CHAPTER 6

Alexandria inhaled sharply, trembling with anger. "You—"

"You’re dismissed, Alexandria."

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

Alexandria’s face drained of color.

"You… are sending me away?"

Vladimir did not blink. "Isn't that what 'dismissed' is, Alexandria?" He sounded cutting. Alexandria's heart was racing in her chest, her anxiety simmering out of control. She knew the seriousness of his words.

He was making a mockery of her. In public.

Her fists balled, nails biting into her own flesh.

"Fine," she growled, shaking with repressed rage. "Enjoy your new little plaything for as long as it lasts, Vladimir."

And then—she turned, striding away, her anger poisoning the air that clung to her.

But as she departed…

Her anger seethed.

This was far from over.

Not even close.

Emereah would be punished.

Vladimir would regret this.

And when Alexandria lashed out again…

She would ensure there would be no going back.

The ringing of chains against the extremely highly polished marble floor was deafening amidst the stillness of the hall.

Each step Emereah took was a reminder—a bitter pronouncement of her shame.

Of what she had become.

The golden manacles around her ankles bit deep into her skin, the weight calculated, to make every noble in the room see she was what she had turned into.

A slave.

Her silver eyes did not waver.

They burned with something unbending. Uncompromising.

Something that would not be domesticated.

And when she finally halted at the foot of the dais, she angled her chin.

Towards him.

Vladimir.

The Alpha who had stolen everything.

The man who now owned her.

He reclined upon his throne like born to remain on the throne of the world, manner carefree, gold eyes glinting with mirth—heartless, deliberate, ravenous.

The room pulsed with merriment, with jingling cups as the Red Crescent nobility celebrated their victory.

A victory achieved at the expense of everything she cherished.

And then—

"Come, Emereah."

The word cut through the chatter like a knife.

Conversation ceased.

All movement ceased.

The burden of shame rested so heavily on her shoulders like a yoke.

The nobles mocked, whispered among themselves.

Her former warriors now slaves, they turned their faces from her, shame and pity written across their eyes.

But Emereah?

She did not break.

She would not.

She stepped on.

The chains groaned against the ground, the sound as cutting as a knell of death.

The goblet of golden wine sat next to his unopened plate, the best victuals awaiting—ahead to feed him.

Vladimir's smile widened, elbows on the table.

"I won't ask twice, little wolf."

Silk around steel, his tone was silky.

"Be a good slave."

Insult. Measured.

Test.

Challenge.

Emereah's fists clinched, but she did not reveal her fury.

Instead, she inched, moving slow, on purpose.

Her long fingers extended toward the meal on his plate, her fingers stroking the gold-rimmed dish as she leaned forward to take a delicate mouthful of meat.

And then—

She moved between his knees.

A shiver of shocked gasps rippled through the hall.

Brash. Insolent. Brazen.

Vladimir's golden eyes burned with something wicked—something threatening.

His lips curled in a low, menacing laughter.

"Be careful," he whispered, voice low, taunting.

"You may become fond of your station."

Emereah would not quail.

She moved closer.

The space between them disappeared, the tension wrapping around them like fire to ice.

She pushed the food against his lips, her voice cutting, slicing.

"Feed, Alpha."

Her silver eyes glinted as she leaned in, teasing.

"Or do you wish me to feed someone else?"

A mistake.

His eyes blazed darker.

A swift gasp in—then his teeth closed on her fingers.

Before she could shift, his hand emerged, around her throat.

A gasp of shock moved through the room.

The nobles froze. The servants, once warriors of her defeated pack, gazed in horror.

Vladimir's grip was cruel, his fingers buried deep in her smooth, soft skin.

He laughed a cruel smile as he threw her high in the air with a jerk of his elbow, her chains rattling on the hard stone.

"Don't you dare order me about!" His voice echoed down the corridor, taut with rage—with control.

Emereah grasped at his wrist, her eyes blurring.

The rims of her silver eyes darkened, but she would not be frightened.

She would not.

Vladimir's breath tickled her cheek as he bent toward her, his voice dropping to a death whisper.

"It's good I've spared your life… just as I let your father die."

A scorching gasp tore from her lips, her body locking into position.

His grin expanded, watching the way her silver eyes blazed with raw, unbridled hatred.

"Any moment now, little wolf," he continued, squeezing hard enough to have her struggling to breathe, "I might snap your neck."

The world revolved around her. The overwhelming force of his power was suffocating her.

And yet—

She did not flinch.

She rose to her feet and looked at him, even as black spots obscured her vision.

The nobles sat in stunned silence, some laughing, some shaking.

Then—

A scream.

One of the old servants collapsed to her knees, trembling.

"Alpha, please!" she cried, her voice breaking with urgency. "Save our Lady Emereah! She's not used to this—she's never been chastised like this before!"

More servants collapsed to the ground, hands clasped in supplication, eyes streaming with tears.

The warriors who had fought for her father gritted their jaws, fists curled.

They were helpless.

Not to him.

Vladimir's sneer faltered.

Something flickered behind those golden eyes.

Something unreadable.

Then—he released her.

Emereah collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, choking.

Air flooded back into Emereah's lungs, her head spinning as she gritted teeth, fighting for breath.

She would not break.

Not in front of him.

Not in front of them.

Vladimir's face looked down at her, unreadable as she struggled to rise on her knees.

Even now—she still wouldn't break.

A slow, laughing smile slipped from his lips.

He dropped to his knees before her, his fingers framing up her chin, holding her glare against his golden blaze.

"Fascinating."

Emereah fumed at him, her chest rising and falling with the absence of breath, her silver eyes still burning.

Vladimir's thumb stroked over her bruised skin, his smirk playing.

"You would have been fortunate, little wolf. I could have snapped that dainty neck of yours at the time."

Emereah's jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she breathed, voice rough but feral—

She wanted Emereah destroyed—eliminated from the face of the earth, not kept on hold for his amusement.

She clenched her fists. "And if she doesn't break?"

Vladimir finally moved away from her.

He let out a low, mocking laugh.

"Everyone breaks."

His golden eyes flashed to Emereah—still on her knees, chained, battered, humiliated… but still unbroken.

For now.

But he would make sure.

His gold eyes turned cold, his voice icy as he spoke to the guards.

"Take her to her rooms." His voice rang out down the corridor. "Do not feed her and do not give her water."