Freedom Broken Chains Novels & Stories

Watching, the voice said as he was unable to follow. That hurt worse than the chains. I pushed myself up to my feet. My legs shook, but they held. The chains reacted, tightening slightly, waiting. “You asked me what I want to become,” I said. “I don’t know.” Then choose what you will not allow to break, the words settled into me slowly. I looked at the chains again. Really looked just as I noticed that some were frayed, flickering. Some were strong and steady but all of them mattered.

"Just breathe through it." I clutch his shirt, trying to focus on breathing instead of the agony radiating through every nerve inside me. This is what I wanted and what I fought for. Freedom. But goddess, it hurts so much. Gradually, the pain starts to fade. The sharp stabbing dulls to a persistent ache, then to an imperceptible throb. The space where the bond used to be now feels empty and raw. I'm free. After seven years of chains, it has been finally broken.

The gown, that symbol of restraint, finally gave way and ripped into pieces. The night breeze brushed against my fur, and for the first time, I felt alive again. I had snow-white fur, strong limbs, and fangs and claws that could tear flesh apart. These were the things I should have been proud of all along. Even if I wanted to dye my fur red tomorrow, no one had the right to stop me. Because this was my body. It was mine alone. No one would ever force it into a cage of gold thread and rules again. I sprinted out of Graham Pack and headed straight for the busiest bar in the neutral zone.

I struggle to keep the pain off my face and to swallow my terror that someone will come to check my chains and find me halfway through a jailbreak like this. Then I manage to move my hand a few more millimeters—and suddenly it’s sliding free. My fingertips reach the edge of my chains, and I catch them just in time before they drop to the ground. Now I’m holding them instead of the other way around. Everything in me wants to fling them away. I know I could get my left hand out now that my right hand is free. And without these chains, I could do anything—shift, do magic, hell, just run for the tree line.

"Kaila, can you please give me a little time to explain why I care so much for you? I have been telling you that I care for you, but you are always changing our topic and won't even let me talk and listen." "Alicia... there is nothing else more important for you, and there are no other things more important to me. What is most important to us is our freedom, and have you forgotten that what we are doing this for our freedom? That we are fighting for freedom? Because some people gave us curses, as their minds were our prisons and their eyes were our cage," I said while my tears were falling to the ground because of the feelings that I could not explain.

Not since Lyken became my boyfriend. When Jada and Lyken broke up, she thought they couldn’t fix things between them. But thanks to the power of forgiveness, they are where they are now. Just as Demi Moore said, ‘The things people do to each other, they remember. If they stay together, it's not because they forget. It's because they forgive.’ And Jada agrees with her. Whether she likes it or not, what happened between Lyken and her will be forever part of their history. That’s something they can’t just erase.

It looked like I would have to try to do something on my own. Letting out a string of profanities, I began to draw on what strength I had left. I was weak from everything that happened, but I wouldn’t let that stop me from trying to break free. "Hey, dumb ass!" The woman beside me growls. "You’re going to make them come!" "Them?" I repeat, continuing to try to break my chains. "Who are they exactly?"

Then she smashed everything in the study that could be smashed, including our wedding photo. The moment the glass shattered, she saw herself in the picture, smiling with gentle warmth, while I wrapped my arms around her from behind. My eyes had been filled with hope for the future. She dropped to her knees among the broken pieces and tried to gather them back together. The broken glass sliced her hands until they were covered in blood. But the pain in her body was nothing compared to the agony tearing through her chest. For the first time, she understood what it meant to be slowly tortured. To remain fully conscious and feel every shred of pain.

Usually, I had to ask Lawson repeatedly when I needed it for contracts before he would stamp them for me. Now it was being treated like a toy in a pup's hand. My chest tightened. It hurt so bad I could not speak. All I felt was grief. When he saw that I still had not moved, the pup lost his temper. He threw the broken-down watch straight at me. "Are you deaf? I told you to feed me!" I dodged, and it missed. The pup grew even angrier. He jumped down from the desk, lunged at me, and bit my arm. I stepped back in pain, but he bit down harder.

I was furious with him and even more furious with myself, my body buzzing with a mix of anger, shame, and something far more dangerous that I refused to name. I'd saved the company. I'd signed my freedom away. And somewhere deep down, in a place I refused to acknowledge, I knew Damien was right. I did want him. I hated him for it. Hated myself for it even more. I forced myself to stand. To walk. To leave. I grabbed my purse and stumbled out of the penthouse, not looking back. The elevator ride down felt endless. The lobby was empty. The doorman nodded as I passed, but I didn't see him. I didn't see anything.