Rusted Chains Novels & Stories

The chains jingled to and fro like thick and rusty chimneys. Eventually, it woke up all of Mons's senses the moment it vibrated past through his eardrums wildly. Mon's old, weak and pitiful figure struggled hard bringing himself up into a sitting position, half awake with his chilling bones. The joints on his arms barely carried half of his body's weight, trembling uncontrollably as exerted force on them.

Ethan groaned. He opened his eyes, blinking against the low industrial light that swung overhead. It cast slow, dizzying shadows across a cavernous space—concrete walls pockmarked with mold and decay. Rows of rusted lockers lined one edge. Broken crates were stacked in a corner like forgotten graves. And somewhere, water dripped rhythmically from a cracked pipe. He tried to move. Couldn’t. His arms were stretched above him, chained high into iron beams, his feet barely touching the ground. The cuffs were thick. Reinforced. Etched with something that smelled faintly of silver and burnt ozone.

Disgusting. The second the door closes behind him, I begin frantically trying to break my arms and legs free. I hear the wall behind me starting to crack and give way. “Yes, come on,” I mutter to myself. I yank my hands as hard as I can and cough as plaster and dust rain down on me. My hands are still chained overhead. I look up to find that the walls are made of thick stone and my chains are firmly screwed into the wall. “Fuck!” With the silver chains weakening my wolf, I’m not going to be able to break the chains free from this stone wall. I slump back feeling defeated.

He tapped his chin as he took the items of torture from the bag, lining them neatly on the cot for Derrek to see. “Don’t worry, it’ll only last as long as Klara’s torture… What was it? Eleven years?” Marc stated as his hand trailed over the objects. “I helped her!” panic clutching at Derrek’s voice. “Yes well, what you call help. I call rape.” Marc picked up one of the pairs of knuckle dusters, these had no silver, they just hurt with their claw imitation. “What do we think?” He slipped them on approaching Derek. “I think you’re fucking crazy!” He struggled in the chair which caused his wrists to sizzle and burn as they touched the cuffs.

The air down here tastes like damp rust and wet earth. I look at my hands. The silver-suppressant chains around my wrists are still hot, eating into my skin with tiny, constant stings. My wolf is so faint I can barely feel his pulse in my chest, but the silver link on my right cuff is cracked. The metal snapped when I threw myself against the wall earlier, leaving a spiky, razor-sharp edge near the rivet. I flex my fingers. It hurts, but the pain keeps my head clear.

I tried to move and metal bit into my wrists. Chains. Thick iron chains, bolted to the stone wall behind me, holding my arms spread wide. The iron bit into my wrists, rubbed raw from however long I'd been hanging here. My ankles were shackled too, connected to rings in the floor, forcing me to kneel with my legs spread. Completely naked, the cold stone wall pressing against my back, the damp chill seeping into my bones.

The dungeon beneath the Moretti estate wasn’t used often—but when it was, the air grew thick with silence and steel. Cold stone walls kept secrets, and blood had once stained the same floor Enzo now knelt on. Chains clinked with every breath he took. His arms were strung above him, wrists rubbed raw. Days without sunlight had turned his skin a sickly hue, and his once-coiffed hair was matted with sweat. But what shook Valerio the most wasn’t Enzo’s appearance—it was the spark of defiance still burning in his eyes.

He had been imprisoned within its crumbling walls for far too long, his every move restricted by the merciless chain that bound him. Strands of silver wrapped around his wrists, digging into his flesh as if the metal itself revelled in his suffering. The moonlight streaming through the broken windows cast an eerie glow on the chain, emphasizing its cruel strength. Asher could feel its power weakening him, his body growing sluggish and weak.

Flickering torches on stone walls lit parts of the room dimly, leaving the rest in darkness. I grunted in pain as I looked down at my hands again. The chain wrapped around them hissed as they dug into my skin. My skin sizzled where it came in contact with the chain and I knew at once that they were made from silver. Beside me, Alexander groaned as he struggled against his bonds. The sound of the metal scraping against the ground echoed faintly through the chamber as Alexander tugged and pulled his chains. The more he struggled, the deeper the chain sunk into his flesh, causing streams of blood to run down his palm.

Jarek I woke up to find myself tied with the heavy silver chains attached to the wall. Chains are wrapped around my wrists and ankles, and they don't budge no matter how much I try to pull them. The metallic chains have silver mixed in them just to the point that they wouldn't burn through my skin, but whenever I try to tug on them, it pierces my skin. My body hurts, and my memory is hazy. However, I do remember clearly hearing Gianna's voice.