Romans & histoires Twelve Years A Slave

Kash was a little puzzled, "Mr. Chaney will be worried." I shook my head and began to undress. Kash stepped back and then looked away, his ears reddening. "Ms. Houston, what are you doing?" I didn't care. I could do whatever for freedom. My dignity had long been worn out by Jeffrey. "He won't worry about me. These scars are all left on me by those kidnappers he hired." Kash looked at me at that moment. Inside my jacket was a white sleeveless tank top. My purplish red whip marks and a few scabbed scars on my arms showed clearly.

Grayson rebuked her. “No,” I shook my head and held their hands. “I don't want to tell him,” I said weakly. “Then what do you want to do?” Grayson asked. “I want to beg him to let me go,” I said slowly. “Lily! The only way you can be free is if you are in the grave!” Clara cried. “No, there is one other way,” Grayson said, turning to look at Clara. “If the master freely sets the servant or slave free, then that slave is free forever. But if the freed slave is captured again, the slave will either be killed or retained for life.”

"But these people are nothing but slaves, they mean nothing to you. If you play along, I might just give you the freedom you have always wanted, so you can stop trying to escape all the time." Robert swallowed hard, his disgust obvious. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat, addressing the audience. "Welcome to the first annual slave auction of the Demontail Pack," he began, his gaze resting on the chained body of Jasmine. "We will start with this exclusive slave, she has been kept and trained for about a month, she is the mate of the late Alpha." The bidding started in seriousness; the crowd's hunger for such a prized possession was intense. Robert felt his heart clench as Jasmine was sold of

To them, I would always be nothing more than the orphaned slave girl they bought at a bargain. I stubbornly maintained my pace while I continued scrubbing the floor, a silent dare for him to do his worst, but he just ignored me and continued his discussion. I swallowed hard and forced myself upright when I was done scrubbing, my limbs aching from exhaustion. Twelve years had passed since I was dragged to the Ironclaw Pack, shackled and starving. Twelve years of servitude, of swallowing every insult, of knowing that no matter how hard I worked, to them, I would never be more than the omega whose parents were traitors.

A sleepless night left me running on fumes. I was just about to make myself a coffee when a delivery guy brought in a large box of milk tea and small cakes. Then came the cheers of my colleagues. "Mr. Baldwin is buying afternoon snacks? When did he get so generous?" "Clueless! It's for Leticia's new diet. We're just lucky to get free snacks!"

I said, then turned and walked away. "Stop!" George snapped. "Zachary, you've been an administrative manager for eight years. How can you have no sense of perspective and throw a fit over a smaller year-end bonus? How do you think other departments will see the administrative system?" I turned back to meet his gaze. "Mr. White, I may not have perspective, but my team is counting on that year-end bonus for the holidays. Caleb's wife has a follow-up exam. Julius is getting married. Renold promised to take his parents to the doctor—"

She spoke further, and I just stared at her, processing everything she was saying. “Ehm… Have you been in this pack for a long time?” I managed to ask her after what seemed like an eternity. “From the way you talked to the man earlier, you don't seem to be new here.” She took a deep breath, and replied, “Yeah, I'm not new here.” “How long has it been?” I asked further. “This year makes it seven years since I became a slave in this pack. I've been here since I was twelve years old.” She revealed.

Twelve years of history, wiped clean. I signed the Pack Severance Pact. Didn't hesitate for a second. At the entrance of the Pack Hall, Callum blocked my path. His jaw was clenched so tight it could've been cast from iron, teeth grinding audibly. "Sera, you're going to regret this." I walked into the rain with a single bag on my back. Everything I owned after twelve years in Blackridge Pack fit inside — a few changes of clothes, and a secret I never got the chance to tell him.

“While I was walking the halls today, I noticed a young woman doing chores throughout the pack house alone. She looked severely malnourished and injured. Can you tell me who she is, why she is working alone, and why she appears to have been beaten?” The silence that followed was telling. Then Alpha Amos began to lie. “She was among a group of rogues who attacked us,” he said. “When we captured her, she refused to cooperate. We withheld food and assigned her the worst jobs because she became our pack slave. She acts out often. Stealing. Disobeying. She is punished when necessary.” Every word pushed Stowne closer to the surface. A growl vibrated through my chest before I forced it down.

I noticed marks on her arms for the first time, her white dress was almost transparent and it didn't help that it was damp and clinging to her like a second skin. Visible soft scars ran down her arms and I noticed a few on her legs too, but what majorly stood out was the faint marks of shackles on her wrist and the ankle of her feet. It was like she had been chained for a long time and the she shivered as a huge amount of fear radiated off her told me she was a slave. I stepped forward as my chest tightened and I lowered my gun, she peeked up at me from her hair. Those violet eyes widened and filled with fear as she buried her head once more.