Chapter 21 - Wren

Ow!

Consciousness returned to Wren in a slow, painful wave. Her head throbbed, each pulse sending a fresh jolt of agony through her temples. For a moment, she couldn’t tell up from down, lost in a haze.

She tried to open her eyes, but the world swam around her, refusing to come into focus. The acrid smell of the damp bed assaulted her nostrils, making her stomach churn.

Where am I?

Panic clawed at her throat as memories of her capture flooded back. The vampires, the rough hands grabbing her, the darkness closing in. She blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear. Gradually, shapes began to form in the dim light—stone walls, a dirt floor, and rusted metal bars.

A cell. I'm in a cell. Again

Wren's heart raced, pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. She felt cold metal on her wrists, and she realized with a jolt of fear that she was chained to the wall.

Not as tight as last time.

She swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to scream. Her mouth was dry, her tongue feeling like sandpaper. How long had she been unconscious? Hours? Days? The uncertainty only added to her mounting terror.

Stay calm. Think. You need to think.

But coherent thought was difficult when every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, to escape. The chains rattled as she shifted, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. Wren closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She needed to assess her situation, to find a way out.

The room was dim, illuminated by a single flickering bulb that cast eerie shadows against the stone walls. She shifted, the coarse rope digging into her skin, leaving a burning sensation with every slight movement. Her body ached as though she’d been tossed around like a rag doll. It was not the same prison she had been put in the last time. This was nicer, although not much nicer.

I should have stayed...

The thought tore through her, guilt mingling with regret. But it was too late for that now.

Footsteps echoed down a narrow hallway outside the room, sending a shiver crawling up her spine. She tensed as a rusted door creaked open, revealing three figures shrouded in shadow.

The tallest among them stepped forward, his face coming into view under the sickly light. He had a sneer that twisted his features into something vile, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

The vampire.

“Look who’s finally awake. The famous rogue bride herself,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’ve really made a name for yourself, haven’t you?”

Wren swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. She glared up at him, her hazel eyes flashing with defiance despite the fear coiling in her stomach. “You don’t know anything about me,” she spat, forcing steel into her voice.

The vampire only chuckled, a sound that crawled under her skin like insects. The announcer at the auction, shorter and stockier, leaned against the wall with a leering grin. “Ungrateful, isn’t she?” he sneered.

“Running away from the best life a rogue could hope for. Married to an Alpha from the bright side and still not satisfied. Maybe we should’ve sold you off properly the first time.”

Wren's jaw clenched, defiance flaring despite her fear. "I'm not a bride, and I'm certainly not yours to sell."

The witch laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, she's got spirit, this one. No wonder she caught an Alpha's eye."

"Caught more than that," the vampire sneered. "What's the matter, Princess? Are silk sheets not good enough for you? Did your master hurt you?"

Her chest tightened, her mind racing as their words sank in. They saw Articus as her master, the one who’d claimed her like property.

They’re wrong.

She wasn’t a slave, and he wasn’t her master. Her heart twisted at the realization that despite everything, she couldn’t let them paint him that way.

“He’s not like that!” Wren’s voice cracked, but she pushed on, fueled by a mix of anger and desperation. “He’s not my master. He’s… not what you think.”

The vampire’s grin widened, unfazed. “Sure, Sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that.”

Their laughter grated against her ears, but it was the cold truth beneath their words that made her stomach churn. She couldn’t deny how it looked—Articus buying her at the auction, marking her as his—but it wasn’t the whole story.

I shouldn’t have run.

Now, she was back in the hands of those who saw her as nothing more than merchandise. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them see her break.

I have to be strong—not just for me but for the baby.

The vampire crouched down in front of her, his eyes glinting with malice. "You were the talk of the underground, you know. The little rogue who snagged herself an Alpha, but then you chose to run away like an ungrateful bitch."

“He’s back here ‘where the sun doesn’t shine’, you know? Their search party scoured the bright side, but they could not find you. Of course, he must’ve been informed we got our prized asset back.”

Wren refused to let them see how much it affected her. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze defiantly. "If you know so much, then you know Articus will come for me. And when he does, you'll regret ever laying a hand on me."

The slavers exchanged amused glances. "Oh, we're counting on it, Sweetheart," the witch said. "Your Alpha's going to pay a pretty penny to get you back. Seems like you’re more than just a trophy to him. "

Her words sent a cold shiver down Wren’s spine. She could feel their eyes on her, weighing her value in coins and deals. They weren’t just planning to sell her off to the highest bidder—they wanted to milk Articus’ wealth dry in exchange for her freedom.

As they continued to taunt her, Wren's mind raced. How had she ended up here? Just days ago, she'd been in Articus' arms, feeling safe and loved. Now, she was chained in a cell at the mercy of slavers who saw her as nothing more than a commodity to be sold.

I should have stayed. I should have talked to him.

The regret hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath. She'd let fear and insecurity drive her actions, running away instead of confronting Articus about what she'd overheard. Now, she was in more danger than ever, and not just herself—the tiny life growing inside her was at risk, too.

Memories of the previous morning flooded back—the joy of discovering her pregnancy, the dreams of a future with Articus and their child. It all seemed so distant now, like a beautiful mirage that had vanished in the harsh light of reality.

What have I done?

"I don't understand," Wren said, her voice hoarse. "Why go through all this trouble? Why not just return me to Articus if that's your plan?"

The vampire who seemed to be their leader in the shadows—she'd mentally dubbed him Bloodred due to how red his lips were and how they contrasted against his sparkling white fangs—grinned. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, your Alpha needs to learn a lesson about keeping his property secure."

Anger flared in Wren's chest. "I'm not property. Articus isn't like that."

The witch snorted. "All Alphas are like that, Honey. Especially the ones from the bright side. They just hide it better."

Wren shook her head vehemently. "No, you're wrong. Articus is different. He's kind, he's..."

The announcer grinned. “Bet you thought running away was a good idea, huh? Maybe you’re starting to realize you had it better with the big bad Alpha. At least he fed you and kept you safe.”

Wren met his gaze, refusing to look away even though every instinct screamed at her to cower. The announcer seemed to be the face of the operation, though. He had taken to the stage at the auction, but here, he followed the vampire’s commands.

“I’d rather be dead than belong to someone like you,” she snapped. Her voice wavered, but the fire in her eyes didn’t falter. She wasn’t going to let them break her, no matter how hopeless things seemed.

Memories of Articus' gentleness, his respect for her, flooded her mind. The way he'd looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world—the tenderness in his touch when they made love.

He didn’t act like he owned me.

"And he's not my master," Wren insisted, as much to herself as to her captors. "We're partners. Equals."

Bloodred laughed. "Oh, you really believe that, don't you? How adorable." He reached out, grabbing her chin roughly. "Listen, little rogue. In our world, there are no equals. There are masters, and there are slaves. You got lucky, landing yourself an Alpha from the bright side. Most rogues would kill for that kind of security."

Wren jerked her head away from his grasp. "You don't know anything about our relationship."

"Maybe not," the witch conceded. "But we know how valuable you are. An Alpha's mate carrying his cub? You're worth your weight in gold, Sweetheart."

How did they know about the baby?

Wren's blood ran cold. She hadn't told anyone, hadn't even had the chance to tell Articus. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, a protective gesture that didn't go unnoticed by her captors.

"Oh yes, we know all about your little secret," Bloodred said, his eyes glinting with greed. "It's amazing what a vampire's heightened senses can pick up. Your scent's changed, darling. You're positively glowing with maternal hormones."

Fear clawed at Wren's throat. These people knew about her baby, and they saw it as nothing more than a way to increase her value.

"Please," she said, hating the tremor in her voice. "Just let me go. I'll go back to Articus; I won't cause any trouble."

The announcer chuckled. "Now, where's the profit in that? No, you'll stay right here until your Alpha comes to claim you. And he'd better come with plenty of cash if he wants you and his cub back in one piece."

As they continued to discuss her fate as if she were a prized livestock, Wren's mind drifted back to Articus. Would he come for her? After she'd run away, would he even want her back? The memory of his conversation with Fannar haunted her, but now, in the face of real danger, she found herself longing for Articus' protection.

I was so stupid. I should have trusted him, should have talked to him.

She remembered the way Articus had held her at night, his strong arms a safe haven from the world. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and reassuring against her ear. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her, full of a tenderness she'd never seen directed at anyone else.

He never treated me like a slave.

Tears pricked at Wren's eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not here, not now.

He'll come. I know he will.

The slavers’ voices grew louder as they made plans to contact Articus, to offer him a deal for her safe return. Wren’s heart lurched at the mention of his name, a mixture of dread and hope swirling in her chest.

They were banking on him caring enough to pay up, and though she hated the thought of being used as bait, part of her prayed they were right.

"Listen," she said, trying to reason with her captors. "This doesn't have to end badly. Just let me contact Articus. I'm sure we can work out an arrangement that benefits everyone."

The witch laughed. "Nice try, Sweetheart. But we'll handle the negotiations. You just sit tight and look pretty for when your Alpha arrives."

As they turned to leave, Wren called out, "Wait! Please... can I at least have some water? And maybe something to eat? For the baby's sake, if nothing else."

Bloodred paused at the door, considering. After a moment, he nodded to the woman. "Give her some water and bread. Can't have our prize looking too worse for wear when the buyer arrives."

Once they left, Wren sagged against the bed, exhaustion and fear threatening to overwhelm her. But she couldn't give up. She had to stay strong; she had to find a way out of this mess.

For the baby. For Articus. For us.

She placed a hand on her still flat stomach, a fierce protectiveness welling up inside her. No matter what happened, she would keep their child safe. And if—when—Articus came for her, she would make things right. She would explain, apologize, and do whatever it took to rebuild the trust she'd broken.

I won't let fear drive me away again.

With that thought, Wren squared her shoulders and began to plan. She would bide her time, gather information, and look for any opportunity to escape. And if escape proved impossible, she would trust Articus to find her.

I choose you, Articus. I choose our family.

As the vow echoed in her heart, Wren settled in to wait, her eyes fixed on the small window. Somewhere out there, Articus was coming for her.

And she would be ready when he came.