All Chapters of The Butcher's Bride: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

‎I squeezed my eyes shut as the truck rumbled through the gates, bracing myself for the horrors of the Rogue lands.‎‎I expected the screams of tortured prisoners. I expected the stench of rotting meat and old blood. I expected to see heads on spikes and wolves fighting over scraps in the mud.‎‎The truck slowed to a crawl, the tires squelching in deep mud. The engine cut, dying with a shuddering cough.‎‎Silence fell.‎‎Well, not silence. It was a hum. The low, rhythmic murmur of life.‎‎I frowned. That didn't sound like a dungeon.‎‎Slowly, terrified of what I might see, I peeled one eye open. Then the other.‎‎My breath hitched in my throat.‎‎We hadn't driven into a slaughterhouse. We had driven into a village.‎‎The "Bone Yard" was a sprawling, chaotic settlement built into the base of a massive limestone cliff. It looked like a junkyard that had been reclaimed by nature and desperation. There were no stone castles or glass mansions here. Instead, there were shelters mad

The sun didn't stream through the window to wake me up. It couldn't. The small, high window in the bedroom was barred with iron grates, letting in only a dusty, gray square of light.‎‎I woke up stiff, my neck cricked from the thin pillow on the cot. My emerald dress, ruined by mud and sleep, felt tight and itchy against my skin.‎‎I sat up, groaning. My stomach gave a loud, hollow growl. I hadn't eaten since the engagement party—which felt like a lifetime ago. My throat was parched, dry as sandpaper.‎‎I looked at the heavy wooden door. It was still closed.‎‎"Kaelen?" I called out, my voice raspy. "I need water."‎‎Silence.‎‎I swung my legs off the cot and walked to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. I couldn't hear the fire crackling or the sound of footsteps. Was he gone? Had he left me locked in here to rot?‎‎I raised my fist to pound on the wood, but before I could make contact, the lock clicked.‎‎Clack. Clack. Clack.‎‎The door swung open.‎‎I stepped back

The bread Rhea had given me sat heavy in my stomach, a stone of guilt.‎‎I lay on the narrow cot, staring up at the dark ceiling beams. Outside, the wind was picking up, whistling through the cracks in the logs like a mournful ghost.‎‎He saved his sister, a voice in my head whispered. He isn't a monster.‎‎He is a kidnapper, another voice argued. He killed your guards. He is keeping you in a cage. And Magnus... Magnus is powerful. If he comes here, he will slaughter everyone, including Rhea and Jinx.‎‎I sat up, clutching the wool blanket.‎‎That was the thought that spurred me into motion. It wasn't just fear for myself anymore. It was the realization that my presence here was a death sentence for this camp. If I was here, Magnus would burn the Bone Yard to ash to get his "property" back.‎‎I had to leave. I had to get back to the neutral territory road and flag down a patrol. If I turned myself in, maybe Magnus wouldn't hunt the Rogues.‎‎I slipped out of bed, my bare feet h

The return to the cabin was a blur of rain, pain, and humiliation.‎‎Kaelen kicked the front door open with a force that rattled the hinges, carrying me inside like a wet, muddy sack of flour. He marched straight to the fireplace, kicking the dying embers into a roar, then dumped me unceremoniously onto the leather sofa.‎‎I gasped as my broken ankle jarred against the cushions.‎‎"Stay," he barked.‎‎He stomped to the washbasin, grabbing a towel and a bottle of amber liquid—whiskey, or maybe disinfectant. He grabbed a roll of linen bandages from a shelf.‎‎He looked terrifying. He was still naked, his bronze skin slick with rain and smeared with mud. His hair hung in wet strands over his eyes, which were glowing with a residual, angry gold light.‎‎He knelt in front of me. He didn't ask; he grabbed my left foot.‎‎"This is going to hurt," he said flatly.‎‎"Wait—"‎‎He didn't wait. With a sickening crunch, he wrenched my ankle back into alignment.‎‎I screamed, arching off

The Bone Yard didn't have a gym. It had "The Pit."‎‎It was a crude, muddy circle dug into the earth near the perimeter fence, ringed by heavy logs. Every morning, the sound of grunts, cracking wood, and the dull thud of bodies hitting the dirt echoed through the camp.‎‎I usually avoided it. The violence reminded me too much of the ambush.‎‎But today, Olara had sent me to fetch water from the rain barrels near the perimeter. To get there, I had to pass The Pit.‎‎I kept my head down, hugging the heavy wooden bucket to my chest, trying to make myself invisible. My ankle was throbbing, a dull rhythm that synced with the pounding of my heart.‎‎"Well, well. Look who finally crawled out of the kitchen."‎‎The voice was like a whip crack.‎‎I froze. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The scent of woodsmoke and bitter aggression hit me before she did.‎‎Vexa.‎‎I tightened my grip on the bucket and kept walking. "I'm working, Vexa. Leave me alone."‎‎"Working?" Vexa st