Chained in Blood

Chapter Two – Zara's POV

Chained in Blood

Ice-cold water slammed against my face.

I gasped, my body jerking awake as the shock forced me back to consciousness. My lungs burned, my vision blurred.

I tried to move—only to feel the cold bite of metal against my wrists.

I was chained.

My arms were stretched above me, wrists bound tight against the stone wall. The metal cut into my skin, numbing my fingers. My feet barely touched the ground, my weight pulling painfully at my shoulders.

For a moment, I just hung there, disoriented, my head pounding.

And then, I heard his voice.

"You should have never been born."

A shudder crawled down my spine.

Slowly, I lifted my head, blinking through the dim torchlight.

My father stood before me.

His face was a mask of cold detachment. The man who once cradled me as a child, who told me stories by the fire, now stared at me like I was nothing more than a stain upon his honor.

A mistake.

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak—

CRACK.

Agony exploded across my back. I felt as if my soul was leaving my body for a second.

A scream tore from my throat, my body arching against the chains. Fire ripped through my skin, the force of the whip leaving a burning trail of pain in its wake.

I gasped, chest heaving.

Another lash.

And another.

Each strike sent shockwaves through me, the sharp leather tearing flesh, leaving searing pain in its place.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to scream again. Refusing to show weakness.

My father stepped closer, his expression unchanged. He might as well have been looking at dirt on his boot.

"If I had known what you were the night you were born," he said, his voice eerily calm, "I would have killed you myself."

I flinched.

Not from the pain.

From the words.

I had always known he hated me.

But hearing it aloud?

Something inside me shattered.

I swallowed thickly, my throat raw. "Father… please…" My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

CRACK.

The whip struck again, cutting off my words.

A fresh wave of pain shot through me, my body convulsing against the chains. Blood trickled down my back, hot and sticky. My breathing came in ragged gasps, my vision darkening at the edges.

"I didn't—" I choked on the words but forced them out. "I didn't kill her. I didn't kill mom"

My father's expression didn't change.

"Liar."

CRACK.

I screamed.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to look at him.

To really see him.

He wasn't just angry.

He was grieving.

He had lost his mate, his Luna, the woman he loved more than anything in this world. And in his eyes, there was only one person to blame.

Me.

My wolf stirred inside me, a low growl vibrating through my bones.

"Let me out," she snarled. "I'll rip them all apart. I'll make them bleed."

I clenched my fists, forcing her back.

"He's my father!" I snapped at her through my mind.

"He's your executioner," she hissed. "He will never see you as anything else."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block her out. But I could feel it—her rage, her hunger.

She wanted blood.

She wanted vengeance.

She wanted to kill him.

She wanted to take control and end it all.

And she would, if I let her take control.

But I wouldn't.

Not because I was weak.

Because despite everything—despite the pain, the hatred, the years of suffering—I still loved him.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, mixing with the blood on my skin.

"I didn't do it," I whispered. " I really didn't do it."

My father said nothing.

For a moment, I thought he might say something. Anything.

But then he simply turned away.

He didn't look back.

The heavy iron door slammed shut behind him, leaving me alone in the cold, damp darkness.

I hung there, trembling, my skin slick with sweat and blood.

How long has passed? Minutes? Hours?

I didn't know.

But when the door creaked open again, I was too weak to react.

Soft footsteps.

Then—warm hands against my wrists.

I blinked sluggishly, my vision hazy. My mind struggled to process.

The chains loosened.

And suddenly, I was falling.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, holding me up as my legs gave out.

"Zara…"

I knew that voice.

I forced my head up, and through the blur of pain and exhaustion, I saw her.

Cora.

My sister.

She was kneeling in front of me, her blue eyes unreadable—pity, pain… guilt?

"You're going to be okay," she whispered, brushing damp hair from my face.

A choked sob escaped me. "I didn't do it, Cora," I whimpered. "I didn't kill her."

She didn't respond immediately.

Instead, she reached for a cloth, dipping it into a bowl of water she had brought. Slowly, carefully, she began to clean the blood from my back, her touch gentle despite the pain it caused.

I shuddered, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.

"I didn't do it," I repeated, my voice cracking.

Cora dipped the cloth again, wringing it out before pressing it to another wound.

"I know," she murmured softly. " I know you didn't do it."

I stiffened.

My breath hitched, my body going rigid despite the pain.

I turned my head slowly, staring at her. "What… what do you mean?"

Cora met my gaze.

Then, she stood.

Her expression was calm.

Eerily so.

"I mean," she said softly, "I did it."

Silence.

The words didn't register at first.

They couldn't.

I blinked at her, my mind struggling to make sense of what she had just said.

"…What?" My voice was barely a whisper.

Cora tilted her head, her blue eyes steady.

"I killed her. Yes I killed mom."

A wave of nausea rolled through me.

No.

No, that wasn't possible.

She had to be lying right?.

This had to be some kind of cruel, twisted joke.

Because if she was telling the truth…

Then I was tortured for nothing.

Then my father had nearly beaten me to death for nothing.

Then my entire life—everything I had suffered—had been for nothing.

I shook my head, my body trembling.

"No," I whispered. "No, you're lying."

Cora sighed. "I'm not."

Her voice was so calm.

So casual.

As if she wasn't confessing to murder.

As if she hadn't just destroyed everything I thought I knew.

I couldn't breathe.

I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat.

I couldn't find the right words to use, I just felt speechless.

And then Cora leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear.

"Happy birthday, sister. I Hope you like your surprise?"

And just like that—

My world shattered.