Chapter 3 My mate

Chapter 3

Bella's heart pounded against her ribcage, reverberating with a mix of terror and anticipation. Her gaze fixated on the scorching hot knife, its blade gleaming ominously in the dimly lit cell. For three excruciating days, she had been held captive within these grim walls, subjected to relentless torment and accusations.

The guards, their sadistic pleasure evident in their eyes, taunted her mercilessly once more. Each word they spat dripped with malice and cruelty. "Are you ready to confess now?" they sneered, their voices laced with malevolence.

Bella's mind raced as she struggled to comprehend their unwavering belief in her guilt. Why did they accuse her of being the thief who had stolen the king's prized jewels? Despite her weakening voice, she summoned the last reserves of strength to assert her innocence. "I didn't do it," she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the stifling air of the cell.

The guards' laughter cut through her words, echoing off the cold walls. "Still denying, are you? Perhaps you haven't had enough," one of them jeered. The hot knife drew closer to her trembling form, its fiery presence serving as a constant reminder of the impending pain.

Unable to contain her despair, Bella screamed as the searing metal came into contact with her skin. It was as if her soul itself bled, bound by the confines of the chair that held her captive. Another guard, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure, taunted her further, his words a cruel melody. "Confess to the theft, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be granted freedom." The absurdity of their demands further fueled her determination to resist, even if it brought her closer to the brink of death.

"I'm innocent," she murmured amidst tears, her voice choked with agony. The hot knife descended upon her once more, and she emitted a piercing shriek, feeling the excruciating pain consuming her body. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

The cell itself seemed to exude an eerie atmosphere, its dim lighting casting long, haunting shadows on the damp walls. Bella's heart thudded erratically within her chest, a blend of fear and unwavering determination coursing through her veins. She knew her fate was sealed, regardless of whether she confessed or not. Death loomed over her like a menacing specter, yet confessing would only grant Evelyn, her nemesis, a sense of victory she was unwilling to surrender.

Just as Bella believed she could not endure any further agony, a faint sound reached her ears. Footsteps, growing louder and closer with each passing second. Panic surged within her, unsure if her tormentors had enlisted the aid of another sadistic soul to amplify the cruelty of their game.

Straining her ears, Bella listened intently, desperate to discern the purpose behind the approaching footsteps. Heavy boots echoed through the corridors, their reverberations sending shivers down her spine. And then, as the figure finally emerged within her line of sight, her heart skipped a beat, filling her with a mix of dread and anticipation.

"Hey!" barked another guard, his gruff voice piercing through the air. "You're needed outside. We must prepare the arena for tonight," he stated, his eyes momentarily flickering towards Bella with a mischievous gleam before he departed without uttering a word to the captive girl.

As the guards with Bella in tow left the cell, their sinister expressions lingering, a chilling realization settled upon her. "Last night?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling in tandem with her pounding heart. Thoughts of a sinister conspiracy took hold, causing her to question the motives behind her impending end. Had they orchestrated her demise? Was this the night that would mark the conclusion of her life?

Yet, amid the escalating fear, another realization pierced her thoughts. Could it be... had the fortnight already arrived? That dreaded period, dreaded for every prisoner, where their very existence teetered on the edge of doom? Regardless of her speculation, one thing remained certain - as long as she remained confined within this cell, she had no means of escaping the impending horror. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she grappled with the implications of the looming deadline.

- - -

Exhaustion and fear took the form of tremors within Bella's frail body as she waited, trembling, for her seemingly inevitable fate to unfold. The searing pain etched into her battered form, inflicted by the merciless guards, still reverberated throughout her every fiber.

Every ounce of her being shook with fear as the clattering of heavy boots resonated against the cold, unforgiving stone walls. The guards' expressions left no room for pleas or mercy. Their arrival was accompanied by a gruff command, their voices dripping with icy intimidation. "Get up. It's time," one of the guards barked, their words laced with a palpable authority. Bella knew that the moment had arrived for her to confront the pack's barbaric traditions.

With limbs trembling, she pushed herself off the frigid floor, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of fear and defiance. Days of relentless torture and isolation had weakened her body, threatening to betray her in this moment of reckoning. However, the fire within her spirit remained unwavering. She had to fight, had to strive for an escape from the monstrous fate that awaited her.

With each step towards the arena, Bella's heart raced, its frantic rhythm a cry for freedom from the nightmare that had ensnared her. The guards, fueled by a macabre desire for bloodshed, led her mercilessly, their grip on her fragile frame unyielding. The struggle to break free simmered beneath her skin, causing her to lunge forward in a final act of panic. However, her efforts proved futile against the strength of the three burly men restraining her.

Violently, they kicked her to the ground, a surge of pain erupting within her already battered body. Agony melded with fear, intertwining in a twisted dance that engulfed her senses. Her shouts echoed through the air, a mixture of defiance and anguish, as she fought to escape the soldiers' vice-like grasp.

Mere resistance proved fruitless, the guards overpowering her effortlessly as they carried her weight towards the insidious arena. With every passing second, the pack's appetite for blood grew, their anticipation thickening the air. Prisoners were paraded before them, mere pawns in a fortnightly custom tailored to satisfy the pack's sick amusement.

Within the confines of the gruesome tradition, male prisoners were pitted against each other in brutal combat, their lives hanging in the balance. Death lurked at every corner, embodying the savage dominance of the Alpha. Female prisoners, too, were subjected to a bleak future. Fated to meet their demise the following day, they were first handed over to the higher-ranked males as objects of desire, further emphasizing the depths of their cruel tyranny.

Bella's heightened senses, a mixture of fear and excitement, became attuned to the approaching presence of the female prisoners. Each malevolent, desire-filled glare cast her way weighed upon her like a tombstone. Amidst the bleakness, a sudden shift in the air caught her attention. An alluring fragrance wafted through, momentarily distracting her from the impending doom.

Frantically, she looked around, searching for the source of the captivating scent. Suddenly, the door of the showhouse swung open, and her eyes locked onto the figure that emerged. In that fleeting moment, their worlds collided, their fates entwined. A surge of recognition surged through her, mirrored by the wolf whispering in Alpha Albert's ear, confirming the truth - she was his mate.