Chapter - 25
Campfire Chaos
The night stretched on, a strange blend of stifling stillness and unseen horror. For most within the slave camp, sleep did not come easily—but it came nonetheless. A few collapsed from exhaustion, others laid upon the bare, unforgiving earth, too drained to care about the venomous ants, bloodthirsty mosquitoes, or the occasional creeping scorpion that might share their resting ground.
There were no shelters. No nets. No safety. Only fatigue.
Yet despite the grim routine, something unnatural hung in the air tonight. Whispers swirled among the slaves, their eyes drifting to the distant silhouette of Lieutenant Kadran's lavish tent, faintly glowing under torchlight.
They had seen her—the white-haired woman—being dragged toward it by Sergeant Garrik like a prized animal. Some whispered prayers for her. Some turned away in shame. But a few... a few watched with envy and perverse desire. She was unlike anyone they'd ever seen, an exquisite creature—her features more elven than human, almost ethereal.
Even some of the guards licked their lips, fantasizing about slipping into Kadran's tent once he was asleep. They thought of what they'd do to her. Monsters in uniform, barely leashed by hierarchy.
In every corner of the world, Sam realized, there were men like these—beasts hiding in plain sight.
Far from the guards, Sam sat slumped against the base of a tree, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. His breath came in shallow gasps. Pain gripped him from within—searing in his temples, squeezing in his chest. And all of it had started when he saw her.
That girl.
That white-haired girl.
The image of her being dragged away burned in his mind like a brand. He didn't understand why, but her pain echoed in him. It was like remembering a dream you hadn't known you'd forgotten. Her face… the moment he saw it, something broke open inside him.
His head throbbed again.
The tent was still visible from his position—a silent threat veiled in canvas and torchlight. He stared at it, unable to turn away.
Then, without warning—
Smoke.
A dark column rising from the forest beyond the camp's edge.
A sharp, panicked shout rang out:"Fire! Fire! We're under attack!"
Everything shifted. In a heartbeat, the lethargy vanished.
"Alert! Enemy approaching!" someone bellowed.
Steel clashed. Feet scrambled. The guards who had been half-asleep in makeshift sleeping quarters burst into action, yanking on gear, grabbing weapons, shouting orders. A shrill siren wailed across the camp—a piercing note of chaos.
Sam jolted upright, eyes wide.
...
Not far from the tent, at the jungle's edge where torchlight grew thin and the canopy loomed like the mouth of a predator, Garrik reveled in his filth.
Two women were tied to separate trees, their wrists bound with coarse ropes, their ankles scraped raw from dragging. One of them—the newer arrival—still whimpered, her face streaked with dirt and tears, her body trembling from exhaustion. She was young, maybe no more than twenty, her frame small, barely clothed. Her sobs came out in broken gasps, barely audible over the buzz of the night insects.
The other woman was limp. She hadn't moved since he'd last used her that morning. Her skin was pale and swollen where he had struck her. She didn't cry anymore.
Garrik chuckled to himself. "Too quiet," he muttered, kicking the second woman's foot lightly with his boot. No reaction. "Guess you're no fun now."
His attention turned back to the first girl, the "fresh one." Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she pulled at her bindings instinctively when he stepped closer. The fear in her eyes was the only thing about her that still had fight.
"Pretty little bitch," he growled, crouching in front of her. He grabbed her face roughly with one hand, turning it from side to side, inspecting her like livestock.
Her lips quivered. "Please… please don't hurt me…"
"Hurt you?" He laughed. "I'm not hurting you. I'm enjoying you. That's a privilege. You're lucky, girl. You got picked. You should be thanking me."
She tried to shake her head, but his grip tightened. He forced her to look into his eyes.
"You know what I could've done?" he whispered, his breath hot and foul. "I could've left you with the others. You'd be nothing more than a corpse by morning, torn apart by whatever creeps through this jungle. But instead, you get a warm body on top of you. That's mercy."
She sobbed harder now, turning her head as far as the rope would allow.
Garrik stood, undoing the belt at his waist with a slow, deliberate motion. The leather snapped between his hands as he drew it free. "You cry now, but you'll learn. They all do."
He circled behind her and yanked her to her knees with a jerk of the rope around her neck. She gagged, hands scrambling uselessly against the bark.
"You should feel honored," he hissed. "I only take the best."
She screamed once—but it was cut off by the slap of his hand across her mouth.
"Quiet," he snarled. "Or I'll make it worse."
And then he began.
The jungle seemed to hold its breath. The usual drone of insects dimmed, swallowed by the sounds of cruelty and desperation.
Time passed—how much, no one would say.
When Garrik finally paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, he glanced toward the second woman again. Still lifeless.
He snorted. "Guess I broke you," he muttered.
Then, turning back to his current victim, he sneered, "Don't think you're off the hook. This was just round one."
He leaned in close, whispering in her ear.
"And tomorrow night, you won't be alone. That white-haired beauty's joining the fun. Once the Lieutenant's done with her, she's mine. I've been patient long enough."
He pressed his hand against her thigh, but just as he was shifting position to violate her again—
The siren screamed.
A shrill, jarring alarm that cut through the camp like a blade.
Garrik jerked his head up. "What the hell—?"
Shouts rang out in the distance. Footsteps thundered across wooden platforms. The glow of fire began to bloom beyond the treetops.
"Shit," he growled, rising to his feet.
Reluctantly, he shoved the girl back against the tree, tightened the ropes until they bit into her skin, and checked the second woman—still breathing, barely.
"I'll be back," he spat, venomous. "Don't think I'm done."
He re-buckled his belt, hastily threw on his tunic and gear, and sprinted toward the heart of the camp.
The cries behind him faded into the crackle of fire and the thrum of chaos.
Front of him , the jungle flickered with the glow of fire..
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📢 Author's Note 📢
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