The Siege of Shadows: Book one

Claimed by the Knight (21)

The ropes bit into my wrists as I sat near the fire, the heat barely touching the icy dread lodged deep in my chest. My gaze stayed locked on the flames, the way they flickered and snapped, trying to drown out the horrors surrounding me. But I couldn't escape the sounds from the tent.

The moans. The wet, sickening slaps. The girl's broken cries.

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. Her voice—small, pleading—cut through the air like a blade, slicing past my resolve and laying bare my helplessness. Every time her cries faltered, I held my breath, dreading the silence that might come next.

I wanted to help her, to do something, anything, but the ropes binding my hands made it impossible. My muscles ached from the struggle, my skin raw where the cords dug in. I stared into the fire, forcing myself to keep still, to think. My rage bubbled beneath the surface, dangerous and wild, but it was useless without a plan. I had to stay alive if I wanted to stop this nightmare.

The girl's screams clawed at me, dragging me back to the present. Keep going. Keep fighting. She's still alive. My teeth ground together as I blinked back the tears threatening to spill over.

And then, without warning, pain exploded across my scalp as something yanked me backward.

I gasped, my head snapping up as my hair was wrenched painfully from my scalp. A fae with deep crimson hair loomed over me, his long fingers twisted in my auburn locks. His emerald-green eyes gleamed with malice, and a cruel smile played on his lips as he looked me over.

"This one looks like she has some fight left in her," he said, his voice low and mocking. His grin widened as he gave my hair another sharp tug, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But my heart hammered wildly in my chest as his grip tightened, dragging me closer.

The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face, turning his smirk into something monstrous. He thought I was already broken. Helpless.

He was wrong.

Something inside me snapped, anger surging to the surface like a wildfire. My bound hands, still trembling from the cold, found the edges of the firepit. I didn't hesitate. Pain seared through me as I thrust my hands into the flames, but I welcomed it, letting it sharpen my focus. My fingers curled around a burning branch, the heat scorching my palms, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the fury boiling in my veins.

With a guttural yell, I swung the flaming branch straight into the fae's face.

The impact was sickeningly solid, the heat scorching his perfect, inhuman skin. He screamed—a high, guttural sound that cut through the chaos of the camp. He stumbled back, his hands clutching his face as smoke curled from the blackened flesh.

I didn't stop. I couldn't.

I swung the branch again, this time driving it into his chest. The blow sent him sprawling to the ground, his body crumpling like a broken puppet. The stench of burnt skin and hair filled the air, choking and acrid, but I didn't let it slow me down.

I stood over him, panting, my entire body trembling with the force of my adrenaline. He writhed at my feet, his once-beautiful face now a ruined, blistering mess. His emerald eyes flicked up to mine, wide with fear.

Fear of me.

I wanted to finish him, to make sure he'd never hurt anyone again. But the ropes around my wrists tightened painfully as I gripped the branch, and the sound of a low laugh somewhere behind me snapped me back to reality.

There were more of them.

I let the branch fall to the ground, embers scattering across the dirt as I knelt, fumbling with the ropes. My hands were a mess—burned, bloodied—but I didn't care. I couldn't care. The girl's cries still rang in my ears, sharper now, more desperate. I needed to move. I needed to get to her before it was too late.