Shackles Song Novels & Stories

“That a girl.” *** I stared at the cold silver metal. All flat edges curved and heated together. The fur only covering the center ring which was wide open through the middle. Big enough I could’ve crawled through it. Is that what this is for? My mind was working at a fevered pace. I crawl through and he spins it until I’m ill? I couldn’t imagine he planned something so painless for me. But it’s worth hoping. “Turn around.” He ordered. When I did, I saw he had heavy iron shackles in his fist. Where’d he get those?

CLANK I was hit by a whip by one guard. My body jerked like fish without water. The blow on my back burnt like hell, other guards grabbed my hands, pulled me back and locked my wrists and ankles in silver shackles. I glared at Alexander, his never ageing face had a satisfied smile playing.

Then he chained her to me, the cold metal locking around both our wrists. Around us, men dragged more girls forward, chaining them together. One by one. Like cattle. By the end, twenty-five of us stood shackled, our freedom ripped from our hands. “You are no longer free,” one of Marvin’s colleagues announced coldly. “You belong to us now.” The words pressed down on me like a crushing weight. I felt lost. Trapped. Cornered from every side. But then — something tugged at the edge of my mind. A pull.

She whimpered. He growled and her reverie broke. She shook her head to come off the stupor. She pressed her back to the wall and with her lower lips quivering said, “Who are you? Please don’t do this with me.” She closed her thighs tightly. They had made her wear a red bandeau and a skimpy black skirt that did nothing to cover her legs. A black lacy thong was visible on the inside. She wrestled against her shackles, ready to kick the man if he tried to come near him.

At least temporarily. First thing the vampires did when we stepped out of the car was that they shackled us around our ankles like prisoners. The shackles weren't thick but made of silver, hence preventing one from shifting into his wolf form. As we were guided inside the mine, the guards connected the shackles with thick chains, locking them against other werewolves' shackles who were working in these dusty dark depths with their bare hands. It was a horrible feeling to be fettered like an animal, like a deviant of society.

she yelled, beating him randomly, but that hardly caused him to even flinch. And then, grabbing on to her wrist tightly, he bound a circular ring to it. He repeated the same with her other hand. Only when he moved away did she realize that she was shackled to the bed. She growled angrily while staring at him fiercely, her fangs out about to attack him. She was about to pull at her hand, wishing to break off the shackle when he said, "The metal is coated in poison. If you let it get into your body, you shouldn't be able to move for a week. Don't cut yourself, alright?"

"There's a shackle around my neck Linda, there's no way I'd fight back." She scoffed also, rolling her eyes. "That thing is useless, it can barely hold her back. It won't, especially when she's in so much rage or wants to defend herself. The shackle won't work. All you need is to detach yourself Bella, think of something else and try not to think of escaping."

I kicked, clawed, screamed Jason’s name, Lyra’s, Vivian’s—but the forest swallowed my sound like water swallowing a stone. They pinned me. Shackles, cold, not iron but something worse—etched bone, humming faintly, designed for wolves. The moment they closed on my wrists my wolf recoiled, pacing frantically but caged. My mark throbbed in protest. The rogues dragged me up like a prize.

All eyes turned to me, waiting for my own transformation. A chill ran down my spine. I couldn’t shift, and if they realized that, my humiliation would be complete. I took a deep breath, hoping desperately for something, anything, that would get me out of this. Just as I prepared to admit defeat, a thunderous, commanding female voice echoed through the arena. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The emergency lights flickered ominously, as if sharing in their fading hope. Someone in the darkness started humming—a pack song, ancient and familiar. Gradually, others joined in, their voices weak but united. In that moment, they weren't just trapped warriors; they were pack, family, bound by something stronger than the walls that held them. Martin stood in the center of the room, listening to his packmates' voices rise in harmony, and made a silent vow. They would find a way out, or Lesley would find them. Either way, this room would not be their end. The song grew stronger, echoing off the walls that sought to contain them, a defiant chorus in the face of their imprisonment.