CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

​Ziaani's POV: Captivity's Requiem

When I awoke, the first sensation that struck me was the unsettling softness beneath me. The bed was unlike any I'd known—a far cry from the cold, rough cots of the battlefield or the austere chambers of the castle. I blinked slowly against the dim light, my head pounding as I tried to orient myself. The room smelled faintly of damp earth and aged wood, a scent that was both foreign and deeply unsettling. There was no trace of Queen Nikita's comforting perfume—a fragrance that once enveloped me like a promise of safety.

Panic prickled along my skin. I sat up abruptly, disoriented and trembling, my mind racing with a thousand questions: Where was I? How did I get here? And why did nothing remind me of home? The sparse furnishings—a heavy wooden desk, a stone wall draped in shadows—only deepened my confusion. A solitary candle flickered in a corner, casting trembling light on the worn tapestries that hinted at a life far removed from the castle's polished halls.

Before I could gather my thoughts or search for an escape, the door swung open with a measured creak. In stepped a tall, imposing figure whose presence commanded the space. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into me as if reading my every secret. In his gloved hand, he carried a tray laden with food—an odd gesture in this stark, unfamiliar place.

"Good morning, Ziaani," he intoned, his voice both smooth and commanding. "I am David, heir to King Silas—the next Alpha of the werewolves."

My heart raced as his words hit me like a jolt. I recalled the first day of the war—the day I had been thrust into this new, cruel world. I remembered being locked away in a cold metal cage, feeling utterly alone until Queen Nikita found me, whisking me away to safety. It was during that harrowing rescue that I first caught sight of David in the distance, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity I couldn't comprehend then. Now, standing before me, his eyes gleamed with a claim I desperately did not want to hear.

"You are my mate," David declared without preamble as he set the tray down beside the bed. His tone was both possessive and certain—a declaration that sent a shiver down my spine. My mind whirled, replaying memories of that day, of how I had been saved by someone who cared for me beyond the politics of war. I remembered the gentle touch of Nikita's hand and the soft murmur of her reassurances. The absence of her scent here was a gaping wound in my memory.

Unable to process the situation, I managed a nervous laugh—a sound born more of disbelief than humor. That laugh, however, did nothing to appease David. His eyes narrowed, and in a heartbeat, he was upon me. His strong hands closed around my throat, and I gasped as his grip tightened, constricting my air and shattering any semblance of calm.

"I am not joking, Ziaani," he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice rising to a tone of raw anger. "You are mine. You will learn to love me as your mate."

Every instinct in me screamed to fight back, yet my limbs felt paralyzed under his oppressive strength. I managed to choke out, "Queen Nikita… she—she is my true mate," my words trembling with a mix of defiance and despair.

The mention of Nikita ignited an even fiercer rage in David's eyes. In a violent motion, he swept the tray aside, sending a cascade of food crashing to the ground in a grotesque display of disdain. "Don't you dare speak of her!" he roared, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. With a force that left me reeling, he thrust me back onto the soft bed. The impact made the covers billow around me like the remnants of a shattered dream.

"YOU WILL LEARN TO LOVE ME AS YOUR MATE, NOT HER!" he bellowed, his words slicing through the air like a decree of war. The cruelty in his tone and the certainty in his gaze left me numb, as if my very identity were being erased before my eyes.

For a long, agonizing moment, I lay there—helpless, confused, and consumed by a terror that seeped into every fiber of my being. My thoughts turned inward, a desperate litany of memories and questions flooding my mind. I remembered the softness of Nikita's caress, the whispered promises that had made me feel truly seen, and the way she had saved me from a fate worse than death. And now, here I was, forcibly tethered to a destiny I never chose.

I could hear the distant echo of howls, the call of a world in turmoil beyond this confining room. The weight of my isolation pressed down on me, mingling with the shock and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm. I longed to call out for help, to summon the courage to resist, but the words died in my throat.

After what felt like an eternity, David's presence receded. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving me alone in a chasm of conflicting emotions. Anger, fear, and sorrow warred within me as I tried to piece together a semblance of clarity amid the chaos. The silence that followed was both oppressive and sorrowful—a stark reminder that nothing would ever be the same again.

Tears welled in my eyes as I pressed my hand against the lingering bruise on my throat, the physical pain a cruel reminder of the violence inflicted upon me. I missed her desperately—Queen Nikita, who had once been my sanctuary and my mate in heart and soul. I longed for the familiar comfort of her embrace, the safety of her presence. But now, that memory felt distant and fragile, threatened by the harsh reality that was unfolding.

I rose shakily from the bed, determined to reclaim even a sliver of the strength that had once defined me. The soft sheets rustled under my movements as I paced the small room, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Every detail—the rough texture of the stone walls, the muted hues of the tapestries, the distant murmur of voices outside—seemed imbued with a foreboding energy. I was a prisoner in a world that I no longer recognized, caught between two warring factions, and forced into a role I had never asked for.

As the night deepened, I found a quiet corner near a narrow window. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting silver patterns on the floor. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing, to summon the inner resolve that had seen me through so many battles. But the whispers of doubt were relentless. Was this kidnapping just another maneuver in a larger, sinister game? Had I been used as a pawn by forces I barely understood?

Every thought circled back to David's chilling words, the echo of his anger still ringing in my ears. I shuddered at the thought of his possessiveness—a claim on my very soul that felt both foreign and inescapable. In that moment of solitude, a painful realization took root: my destiny was being written by others, by ancient prophecies and violent ambitions that I had no part in choosing.

Yet, deep within me, a spark of defiance still flickered. I recalled the strength that had carried me through my darkest days, the determination that had driven me to survive when all hope seemed lost. I would not surrender my heart without a fight. Even if I was thrust into this role against my will, I vowed to reclaim it—no matter the cost.

The night dragged on, each minute stretching into a torturous eternity as I grappled with my conflicting emotions. Fear warred with hope, despair intermingled with a fragile resolve. I silently promised myself that I would find a way out of this nightmare, that I would fight for the freedom to choose my own fate—even if it meant facing the wrath of a werewolf heir who believed my destiny was sealed.

And as the first hints of dawn began to bleed into the horizon, I realized that this was only the beginning of a long, treacherous journey. My heart ached with longing for Queen Nikita, yet the echo of David's command lingered like a curse. I knew that in the days to come, I would have to confront not only the external forces of war but the internal battle for my very soul.

In the fragile light of morning, I took a deep, shuddering breath. With my eyes still clouded by tears and my body trembling from both pain and resolve, I vowed silently: I would not be defined by the actions of others. I was Ziaani—strong, determined, and unwilling to be bound by a fate not of my choosing. And I would fight to reclaim my true self, even if it meant defying a werewolf prince and a destiny steeped in ancient, unforgiving prophecy, ​David's obsession was his weakness.

And I was going to use it