STARLIGHT PROMISE:"Bound to the Lycan"

Chapter 20

AMORA'S POV ;
                               couldn't sleep that night. The weight of everything pressed down on me, suffocating me beneath layers of fear, confusion, and dread. Zale's words echoed in my mind, over and over again, as if the very walls around me were whispering them, taunting me with his warning: "Don't try to escape. You'll regret it."

It wasn't just what he had said that haunted me—it was how he said it. His voice hadn't risen, not even an octave. He didn't have to shout. The sheer force of his authority and the cold, undeniable promise of what would happen if I disobeyed him was enough to chill my blood. He made it clear that I was trapped, that I was his prisoner in every sense of the word. And there was something else in his voice, something darker and more dangerous than just authority. It was almost as if he wanted me to try, so he could hunt me down like prey and show me just how inescapable he was.

The room they'd given me—this grand, opulent chamber draped in silks and gold—felt like a cruel joke. Beautiful, yes, but suffocating. The more luxurious the surroundings, the more I felt the invisible chains around my wrists, reminding me that no matter how soft the pillows were, or how delicate the lace curtains shimmered in the moonlight, this place wasn't mine. It wasn't a refuge; it was a gilded cage. And I was nothing more than a prisoner, locked inside with no way out.

I couldn't stay here. I had to get out.

But how? How could I possibly escape this fortress of a house, with its labyrinth of hallways and its ever-watchful guards? Zale had placed sentries outside my door, and they never left. They stood there, unmoving, vigilant, like statues carved from stone. I had heard them speak only a handful of times, and even then, it was brief, clipped conversations that gave away nothing about their weaknesses or routines. They were the perfect guards, trained to obey every order Zale gave them, and never once did I see them let their guard down.

But the idea of staying here, trapped in this suffocating room, was worse than anything I could imagine. My heart raced just thinking about it. I couldn't stay, and I wouldn't.

The problem was, I didn't know the layout of the house. I hadn't been allowed to explore, and every time I tried to map out what I could see from my window, it felt like the walls themselves were conspiring to confuse me. But there was one thing I knew for certain: I wasn't getting past those guards without a distraction. I needed something big enough to draw them away, something urgent that would force them to abandon their posts.

That's when the idea hit me.

Fire.

At first, it sounded insane. Starting a fire inside a house like this? What if it got out of control? What if I couldn't stop it in time? But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like my only option. If I could start a small fire, just enough to cause chaos, the guards would have no choice but to rush in and put it out. They'd be distracted, and in that brief window of time, I could slip out unnoticed. It was risky—dangerous even—but what other choice did I have?

I spent the entire morning crafting my plan.

The house was quiet, almost eerily so, and as I lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling, I mentally walked through every step I would need to take. I would need flammable materials—something that would catch fire quickly and burn fast enough to create panic, but not so fast that it would engulf the entire room. I would need to be ready to move the moment the guards rushed in. And, most importantly, I would need to keep calm. One mistake, one wrong move, and it would be over.

I didn't eat much that day. Zale noticed, of course. He always did. His gaze was like a weight on my skin, piercing and sharp, but he didn't say anything. Not directly, anyway. He never had to. His eyes did all the talking, and every time I felt them on me, I had to fight the urge to shiver. He knew something was wrong. He could sense it. But he didn't push. He simply watched, his face as unreadable as ever, like he was waiting for me to make my move. Waiting for me to try and fail.

But I wouldn't fail.

By the time the sun began to dip behind the horizon, I had everything I needed. I had gathered the drapes from the windows—thick, velvet fabric that would burn easily—and the soft sheets from the bed, piling them in the center of the room. My heart pounded as I worked, my hands shaking with every motion. I didn't have much time. Zale had been called into one of his late meetings, and I knew that would buy me at least an hour. Maybe less. It had to be now.

I lit a candle, the small flame flickering in the dim room. It danced at the tip of the wick, casting shadows that twisted and writhed on the walls, like phantoms eager to join the chaos I was about to create. I stared at the flame for a long moment, my mind racing. Was I really about to do this? Was I really about to burn down part of this mansion just to get away?

Yes.

I held the flame to the fabric, watching as it slowly caught fire. The heat spread quickly, the flames licking at the drapes like they were starved for fuel. The room filled with the sharp, acrid smell of smoke, and my pulse quickened as I realized there was no turning back now. The fire was alive. It was hungry, crackling and hissing as it devoured the fabric, spreading faster than I anticipated. I stepped back, my hands trembling as the fire grew.

The smoke thickened, curling upward toward the ceiling in heavy, dark clouds. My eyes stung, and I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face to clear the air. It wouldn't be long now. Any minute, the guards would notice the smoke pouring from the room, and they'd rush in. I needed to be ready.

I moved to the door, pressing my ear against the cold wood. For a long moment, there was silence. My heart raced, the sound of the fire roaring in my ears. Then I heard it—footsteps. Heavy, rushed footsteps, accompanied by muffled shouts.

"Fire!" one of the guards shouted, his voice panicked.

My breath caught in my throat as I stepped back from the door. This was it. The door burst open, slamming against the wall as two guards rushed inside. Their eyes widened as they saw the fire, now spreading across the room, devouring everything in its path. They moved quickly, their focus entirely on the flames, shouting instructions to each other as they scrambled to put it out.

This was my chance.

Without a second thought, I slipped past them, pressing myself against the wall as I slid out of the room. The smoke billowed out into the hallway, creating a thick haze that obscured everything around me. I moved quickly but quietly, my footsteps barely making a sound as I darted down the corridor. I didn't look back. The fire was their problem now, and I had no time to waste.

The hallway stretched out before me, long and winding, with doors on either side that I didn't dare open. I had no idea where I was going—every corner of this mansion felt like a maze, with endless rooms and corridors leading to nowhere—but I kept moving, my heart racing with every step. The air grew cooler as I moved further from the fire, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that I might actually make it out.

But then, I heard voices—more guards, probably alerted by the commotion. Panic surged in my chest, but I couldn't stop now.

I turned a corner, my breath catching in my throat when I saw a figure approaching from the other end of the hall. Another guard. My mind raced as I tried to think of what to do. There was no time to turn back, and no time to hide. But then, through the haze of smoke, I realized something—he couldn't see me clearly. The smoke from the fire had filled the hall, and the dim lighting only added to the confusion.

I lowered my head and kept walking, my steps hurried but deliberate, as if I had a purpose. The guard glanced in my direction but didn't stop. He was too preoccupied with the chaos happening behind me. The fire was doing its job.

I kept moving, my heart pounding in my chest, until I finally saw it—a door at the far end of the hall, small and unassuming, but it looked like an exit. Freedom. I quickened my pace, my legs burning with the effort of running, but I didn't care. I was so close.

My fingers fumbled with the latch, and for a terrifying moment, I thought it was locked. But then, with a soft click, the door creaked open, and the cool night air hit my face like a blessing.

**I was outside.