Chapter 4: The Chains That Bind Anna POV

"Get up!" I sat up groggily, squinting at the early light that spilled into the cage after the guard's gruff voice startled me awake.

His eyes gleamed with a tinge of cruelty as he grinned. “Thought you’d just sit around, Omega? Get going. You’ve got chores, and I don’t mean the easy kind.”

Before I could gather myself, two other guards grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me from the cell. My muscles objected, tight from spending the night on the chilly stone floor, but I forced myself to ignore the pain and keep from letting them know how miserable I was.

"Where are we going?" Hating the tremble in my voice, I asked.

The guard shrugged, a bored look flashing into his eyes. With a tone full of faux innocence, he said, "Just to help with some chores."

I suppressed a sigh, accepting that I would be flung around like the pack's personal puppet for another day. I attempted to maintain my composure as they guided me farther into the dungeons, convincing myself that I could handle this. I had already been through so much. What was another day?

They pushed me into a dark, musty room with tool-lined walls that included buckets, mops, and chains. Smirking, the guard shoved a pail and a filthy rag into my hands. "Clean everything from top to bottom. You won't go till it's spotless."

I clenched my jaw and nodded silently as they walked out, the heavy door slamming behind them. The ensuing hush encircled me and pressed down on me like a cage. I looked around the room and exhaled slowly.

But I wasn’t alone. As I got closer, I saw a girl sitting in the corner with her face buried in her arms and her knees pulled up to her chest. In the faint light, her petite figure was hardly more than a shadow.

"Hey," I whispered gently as I cautiously walked up to her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, but it was more habit than fact. She looked up, surprised, her eyes wide and afraid. She had a thinness about her that suggested days without enough sustenance, and her face was white and smeared with dirt.

"They... they also brought you here?" Her voice was no more than a whisper when she requested.

I lowered the pail and crouched next to her after nodding. “Yeah. My name is Anna. What is your name?"

"Maia," she uttered softly, her eyes returning to the ground. "I've been held down here for weeks now by them."

Even though her voice was quite quiet, there was something in it that made me feel a pain I knew well. I was all too familiar with that feeling—the emptiness and loneliness of being forgotten, abandoned, and undervalued.

"I am sorry Maia," I said, putting a soft hand on her shoulder. "I understand what it's like to be treated in this manner."

She turned to face me, her eyes sparkling with relief at a pleasant remark, or even a flicker of hope. "Do you believe we'll ever leave this place? Like, really free?"

I wanted to say "yes" to her, but I wasn't sure how to respond. I had no idea what freedom actually meant. But I couldn't just abandon her to her misery. "Perhaps someday," I muttered. “But we’ll get through today. Together."

She grabbed for a rag, her fingertips grazing mine as a slight smile tugged at her lips. Despite its smallness, it felt like a lifeline.

As we worked side by side, scrubbing the floors, carrying buckets of murky water, and removing the dust and dirt that stuck to every surface, the hours went by slowly. Even though Maia didn't say much, it was somehow easier to bear the load when she was present and felt the weight of our silence.

By midday, the oppressive heat in the little chamber had left my head spinning, my hands blistering and burned, and my arms hurting. But I persevered, gritting my teeth and directing my rage and aggravation into every rag scrub.

"So, what brings you here?" The silence was broken abruptly by Maia's question. She spoke in a cautious, hesitant tone.

I paused, unsure of how to respond. “Because I’m different. An omega. They believe I'm weak because of that."

With a sour comprehension in her eyes, she nodded. "I understand how that feels. They never let us forget, do they?”

I felt her comments weigh heavily on me, so I shook my head. "No, they don't."

After that, there was a thick stillness while we both worked on, absorbed in our own thoughts. We never discussed the awful reality of our life aloud, but in this cell, it was OK to do so and to accept it without feeling guilty.

By the time we were done, the room was filled with lengthy shadows from the faint light coming in through the little, high window. Too tired to talk, Maia and I sat side by side on the floor, gathering our breath.

Then the door opened and one of the guards entered, looking around the room and then at us. He jerked his chin at me and said, "You. It's time to leave."

I glanced at Maia, who gave me a worried look as she stared up at me. "Will... will you return?"

"I'm not sure," I muttered, giving her a small smile. "But I hope so,"

As the guard pulled me away and back down the dark hallways, she nodded slightly, her eyes filled with an unspoken request. Night had fallen by the time they let me out, and the cold air pricked my flesh.

Every muscle in my body hurt as I staggered through the quiet village on my way home. I started thinking about Leo.

There was an eerie calm when I eventually arrived at the tiny cabin. As I entered and looked around the dimly lit room, the door creaked. Leo wasn't present. I forced down a twinge of uneasiness in my gut, reasoning that he had most likely gone to visit someone in the hamlet or get supplies.

The stillness in the room grew heavier as I put down my bucket and started cleaning up, until I was struggling to breathe. Something didn't feel right.

Abruptly, a faint sound—a peculiar, repetitive hum—drifted across the night air. I froze and listened as it became clearer, louder, and had an uncanny echoing quality. It originated in the middle of the community.

I slipped over to the window and looked out, my heart thumping. A group of pack members were huddled together, their voices blending in a symphony of chanting, joy, and something sinister as the distant torches flashed.

As I strained to hear bits of what they were saying, a horrible feeling coiled in my stomach and dread grew. They sounded... enthusiastic. Happy.

And then, through the crackling firelight, I saw it.

Leo. Chained up and pulled toward the village square.

As I watched him stumble, his face pallid, his eyes far away, I gasped, my blood flowing cold, a wave of panic taking hold of me. As the crowd cheered and the chants became louder, he was pushed to his knees in the middle of the square, his shoulders stooped and his head lowered.

What happened? Why were they…?

As I tried to breathe, the reality struck me like a blow, and I clutched the windowsill, my fingers sinking into the wood.

Leo was going to stand trial.