Chapter 19
The air was thick with damp stone and the coppery tang of blood. The candlelight flickered weakly, stretching long shadows across the cold walls of the chamber.
Elara gasped awake, her lungs seizing as she lurched forward—only to be yanked back.
lron cuffs.
Her wrists were bound above her, heavy chains rattling as she struggled. Her ankles were secured too, the rough bite of metal cutting into her skin.
Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to breathe. To think.
The last thing she remembered
Leon.
Her head snapped up, scanning the dim room.
He was there, slumped against the opposite wall, his hands shackled, his body unmoving. Blood trailed from his temple, disappearing into the dark strands of his hair.
Elara’s stomach twisted.
“Leon,” she rasped, her voice raw.
He didn’t stir.
“Leon,” she tried again, louder this time.
A beat. Then
A low groan. His fingers twitched.
Relief and terror clashed in her chest as his head lifted slightly. His eyes found hers.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was heavy, filled with everything they couldn't say.
Then Leon exhaled, slow and steady. “We really need to stop getting kidnapped together.”
Elara let out a short, breathless laugh, despite everything. “You think this is funny?”
Leon shifted slightly, testing the weight of his chains. “Not funny. Just... fitting.” His eyes flicked toward the door. “Where the hell are we?” Elara swallowed hard. “Draven’s stronghold.” Leon's jaw clenched. “Of course.”
The scent of rot and damp earth filled the air, the underground cell a stark contrast to the open air of the forest. The walls were thick, designed to suppress wolves like them.
There was no escaping this easily.
Leon's gaze flicked back to her, scanning her shackles. “You hurt?”
Elara shook her head. “No. You?” He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aside from the head wound and a bruised ego?” He tugged at his chains. “I’ve had worse.”
Elara’s chest tightened. He was trying to keep her calm. Trying to protect her, even now.
And she hated how much it mattered.
Because she couldn't lose him.
Not now.
Not ever.
**Draven's Offer — A Choice in Chains**
Footsteps echoed outside.
Elara stiffened as the iron door groaned open, the rusted hinges shrieking against the stone.
Draven stepped inside, unhurried, confident. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, the Blackthorn crest embroidered into the sleeve of his jacket. His smirk was as infuriating as ever.
Behind him, Soren stood at attention, his face carefully blank.
Elara’s pulse spiked.
Soren.
Betrayal coiled tight in her chest.
She knew she should have expected it—loyalty had limits—but some part of her had hoped...
No. Hope was for fools.
Draven clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over them. “You look comfortable.”
Leon's snarl was low, lethal. “Come closer, and I'll show you how comfortable | really am.”
Draven chuckled. “Ah, there it is. That Darkwood temper.” His gaze flicked to Elara. “But you. You've always been more measured. More... strategic.”
Elara held his stare. “Cut the theatrics. Why are we here?”
Draven’s smirk widened. “Because, cousin, I’m giving you a choice.”
Elara’s stomach tightened.
Draven turned slightly, gesturing toward Soren. “Tell her.”
Soren hesitated for just a fraction of a second. Then, his voice steady
“If you agree to align with Draven, Leon walks free.”
Elara’s blood ran cold. Leon stilled beside her.
For a long, heavy moment, the words just hung there.
Leon's voice was low, sharp. “Elara. No.”
She barely heard him. Her pulse roared in her ears.
Draven tilted his head. “You see, Elara, you were never meant to be a rogue. You are Blackthorn blood. Meant to rule.”
He took a slow step closer. “And I’m willing to share that rule—with you.”
Elara wanted to laugh, but nothing about this was funny.
Draven crouched beside her, lowering his voice. “You don't have to fight this war alone, cousin. | can give you everything you need. Power. Protection. A future.”
Elara’s breath came slow and measured.
Draven’'s voice softened. “You could save him.”
Leon's chains rattled violently as he yanked against them. “Elara, don’t you dare.”
Draven sighed, standing again. “Of course, if you refuse...” He gestured toward Leon. “I'll have no
choice but to make an example out of him.”
Leon's gaze burned into hers, fierce, unwavering.
“Elara,” he murmured, voice low and raw. “Look at me.”
She did.
And she knew.
Draven was testing her.
Leon would rather die than let her give in. She couldn't let that happen.
Not for her.
Not for anyone.
So Elara forced herself to smirk, tilting her chin up. “You talk too much.”
Draven’s expression flickered, just for a second. Then Elara spat in his face.
Silence slammed into the room.
Leon exhaled a quiet, almost breathless laugh. Draven stilled, his smirk vanishing.
Slowly, he wiped the spit from his cheek.
Then, without warning, he backhanded her across the face.
Pain exploded through Elara’s skull as her head snapped to the side. The taste of iron filled her mouth.
Leon roared, his entire body surging forward against his chains. “I'LL KILL YOU!”
Draven ignored him. He only stepped back, exhaling through his nose as if bored.
Then, turning to Soren, he muttered“Take him.”
Elara’s stomach dropped.
“No"
Leon thrashed violently as two warriors grabbed him, yanking him forward.
“Elara!” His voice was desperate, furious.
She fought against her chains, rage and terror clashing inside her. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
Leon fought—his muscles straining, his teeth bared—but the warriors held fast.
Draven sighed, adjusting his sleeves. “Let this be a lesson, cousin.” He turned to Leon, smirking.
“Some people are just meant to break.” Then Leon was dragged from the room.
The door slammed shut.
The sound of chains and struggle faded down the corridor.
Elara’s breath came in short, ragged bursts. Her pulse roared.
Draven knelt beside her again, his voice low, amused.
“I'll give you some time to think about your next decision.”
Then he stood and walked away.
Leaving Elara alone in the dark.