17. Eve

17

EVE

T he darkness of the tent envelops me, broken only by slivers of moonlight seeping through the canvas. The heavy chains binding my wrists and ankles bite into my skin, a constant, cruel reminder of my captivity. I shift, trying to find a less painful position, but it's useless. There's no comfort to be found here.

My mind wanders back to the ambush, replaying the horrific scene over and over. The sudden appearance of Zane and his gang, the look of fierce determination on Mordakus' face as he fought to protect me. The sickening sound of fists connecting with flesh, the sharp crack of bones breaking. Mordakus falling, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. His anguished roar as they dragged me away.

A sob catches in my throat. Mordakus. Is he even alive? And Vincent... my heart aches for my little furry companion. I pray they both somehow escaped, that they're safe. But the memory of Mordakus's battered body, lying motionless on the ground, haunts me.

The tent flap suddenly opens, and I squint against the harsh light that floods in. A figure enters, and my blood runs cold as I recognize Zane. His eyes, glittering with a sickening mix of lust and cruelty, rake over me. "Well, well," he drawls, crouching down in front of me. "How's our little guest doing?"

I turn my face away, unable to bear the sight of him. But he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Now, now," he chides, his voice deceptively soft. "That's no way to treat your new family. Because that's what we are now, sweetheart. Your family."

"You're not my family," I spit out, surprised by the venom in my own voice. "You're monsters."

Zane laughs, the sound sending chills down my spine. "Oh, you've got spirit. I like that. It'll make breaking you all the more fun." He leans in closer, his breath hot on my ear. "You see, we've got big plans for you. This world needs repopulating, and you... well, you're going to help us with that."

The implication of his words hits me like a physical blow. I recoil, my stomach churning with horror and revulsion. "No," I whisper, shaking my head frantically. "No, I won't. You can't make me."

"Oh, but we can," Zane says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. "And we will. You're going to be our little breeding bitch, pumping out babies to build our new world."

As if on cue, several of Zane's men appear at the tent entrance. Their eyes roam over me, filled with a predatory hunger that makes my skin crawl. I curl in on myself, trying to become smaller, to disappear.

"Don't worry," Zane continues, standing up. "We'll take turns. Wouldn't want to wear you out too quickly."

The men laugh, a harsh, grating sound that seems to suck all the air from the tent. I close my eyes, feeling the last vestiges of hope slipping away. How did I end up here? Just days ago, I was dreaming of a new life, of gardens and peace and love. Now...

Unbidden, the image of my little rugen cutting comes to mind. That tiny sprig of green, stubbornly clinging to life despite the harsh conditions of our journey. I had carried it so carefully, nurturing it, seeing in it the promise of a better future.

I cling to that memory now, using it as an anchor against the tide of despair threatening to drown me.

That little plant survived against all odds.

So can I.

Mordakus's face flashes in my mind. His red eyes, usually so guarded, softening when he looked at me. His rare smiles that made my heart skip a beat. The gentle way he held me when I was afraid.

He's alive.

He has to be.

And he'll come for me. I know it with a certainty that surprises me.

I open my eyes, meeting Zane's gaze. He's still talking, describing in graphic detail the horrors that await me. But I barely hear him. Instead, I focus on Mordakus, on Vincent, on the dreams we shared of a better life.

"Are you listening, bitch?" Zane snarls, noticing my distant expression.

I look at him, really look at him. And for the first time, I see the fear behind his cruelty. The desperation. He's not strong. He's weak, lashing out at the world because he's afraid.

"I hear you," I say, my voice steady despite the terror coursing through me. "But you're wrong. You can't break me. You can hurt me, you can... use me. But you can't take away who I am."

Zane's face contorts with rage. He raises his hand, and I brace myself for the blow. But it doesn't come. Instead, he lowers his arm, a cold smile spreading across his face.

"We'll see about that," he says softly. "We've got all the time in the world, sweetheart. And by the time we're done with you, you'll be begging to spread your legs for us."

He turns to leave, his men following behind. At the tent flap, he pauses, looking back at me. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."

Then they're gone, leaving me alone in the darkness once more.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of my situation crash down on me. The horror of what awaits me is almost too much to bear. But I can't give up. I won't.

I close my eyes, picturing Mordakus's face. His strength, his determination. I draw on that now, wrapping it around me like a shield.

"I will survive this," I whisper to myself. "I will endure. And when Mordakus comes - because he will come - I'll be ready."

In the depths of my despair, I find a flicker of strength. A resolve to fight back, to hold onto my humanity in the face of unimaginable cruelty.

I think of the garden I hope to build someday. Of Vincent's soft purr and playful antics. Of Mordakus's gruff kindness and the love I know is growing between us.

These monsters may break my body, but they cannot touch my spirit. That belongs to me, to Mordakus, to the future we dreamed of together.

As exhaustion finally overtakes me, I cling to these thoughts. They are my lifeline, my reason to keep fighting. No matter what horrors tomorrow brings, I will face them with the strength of my love for Mordakus and the hope of our shared dreams.

In the darkest hour before dawn, I make a silent vow. I will survive. I will escape. And someday, somehow, I will find my way back to Mordakus and the life we were meant to share.

With this promise burning in my heart, I finally drift into a fitful sleep, my dreams a mix of nightmares and desperate hopes for salvation.