Chapter 6 Where Am I?
Isabella’s POV
Cold.
That was the first thing that hit me when my eyes forced open.
Where the fuck was I?
How the heck did I even get here?
A nasty room with torchlights all over, dancing like demons on the walls. It was dimly lit... prison I must say, because it didn't take long for me to realize I was in chains.
My wrists burned where the iron manacles bit into my raw skin, chains clinking softly as I stirred.
But the question still was, how did I end up in such a place?
After straining my brain for a few minutes, I remembered! Yes, I did. Perfectly well.
I'd been captured last night to this place.
Urgh...
My head throbbed so bad from the tranquilizer dart, vision still blurry as I forced my eyes open wider. I was slumped against a rough-hewn wall in a dungeon cell, arms stretched high above my head.
Oh Moon Goddess! Why did you allow all this mess?
Why?!
The forest ambush replayed in flashes: my people dropping like stones, boots thudding in the dirt, that faceless warrior's hand grabbing my jaw...
Magnus. My little Magnus. Clara's claws at his tiny throat.
That scream... a scream I couldn't unhear.
Rage hit me like a punch to the gut, hot and sharp. I yanked at the chains... hard.
I twisted my wrists harder and rammed the wall for the third time.
Something scuffled outside.
Just then... the cell door groaned open. A young guard in Redmoon colors, sword loose at his side, scowled at me like I was a rabid animal and he’d drawn the short straw.
“Try that again and you’ll break your wrists off, girl,” he said, voice shaking just enough to amuse me.
I let my chains fall and met his eyes. “At least I’d be free of your ugly face.”
He stiffened. “You’re in the Lycan King’s dungeons now. This isn’t some pampered Alpha’s den. Behave, or—”
“—Or what?” I cut in. “You get brave ‘cause of the uniform, but I see a pup in borrowed armor.”
He clearly wanted to hit me. His hand twitched near his belt.
Then footsteps—heavy, confident, careless—echoed down the corridor.
The guard straightened to attention. “L-Lord Damon! Lord Kennedy! Lord Rogers!” The titles fell out his mouth like pebbles.
Three men filled the doorway... And trust me when I say they looked like the word arrogance itself.
The Lycan princes.
I think I guessed right.
“Well, what’s this little thing?” Rogers cocked his head, grinning like a wolf who just found a wounded rabbit. “Why’d you even bring her here?”
Damon, the biggest, stepped forward, eyes slicing down my body. “The King wants her questioned. Maybe more. Don't even know why he has something to do with... damaged goods.”
The brothers laughed.
Annoying!
Did they even know who I was and what I was capable of? I just... I wanted to beat the hell out of them.
Kennedy stared, gray eyes like winter. “Maybe our little brother wants a new toy. Or maybe he’s just tired of the old ones.”
None of them saw me. Not as a Luna. Not even as a real threat. Just another pawn.
Rogers dropped close, fingers tracing the chain at my throat. “You know what happens to girls like you in Redmoon?”
I bared my teeth. “Only if they’re weak.”
He blinked, surprised. Damon moved faster—his hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, jaw inches from his. Breath rank, smile uglier.
“Careful, sweetheart. Biting back just gets you eaten quicker.”
I spat in his face.
The cell went dead quiet for a second—then Damon’s rage exploded. A slap heavy as thunder cracked my cheek.
“ENOUGH.”
His voice shook the stone. The brothers fell silent at once.
He swept into the room with the weight of a storm. Taller, broader, with jet-black hair and eyes the color of blood gold.
Leon, the Lycan King.
He took it all in: my chains, the ugly bruise blooming on my face.
His gaze sharpened on Damon, deadly and flat.
“SHE'S MINE.”
Rogers stepped back, hands raised. Kennedy bowed, lips twisted. Damon glared, murder in his jaw, but even he knew when to keep quiet.
Leon’s eyes flicked to me, hungry and assessing. “Bring her up.”
The guard rushed to do as ordered, unlocking my wrists. I stumbled, defiantly, refusing to show pain.
Up close, Leon radiated danger. His fingers caught my chin, tilting my face to the light. “Fighting already? Impressive. I need new blood. Maybe you’ll breed warriors worth a damn.”
He waited for me to quiver, to beg, to plead for mercy.
Instead, I stared up, spit blood onto the floor, and let a hard smile cut my bruised mouth.
“You want a breeder?” I sneered. “Better find a bitch from your own kennel. This one bites back.”
His lips curved, half-amused, half-threat. “We’ll see.”
And that’s when I knew—I’d landed in the Lycan King’s lair.
I'd heard of him in Evergreen: savage, hungry, a killer with a crown.
But I wasn’t prey.
Not then. Not ever.