From Execution to Captivity

Adele groaned, clutching her throat as her feet dangled in the air. Her windpipe constricted, no air able to pass through. This was it.

She didn't fear death. The only regret she had was not being able to help the ones she loved.

“My lord, I’m sorry to intrude, but I was hoping you could let me buy the slave.”

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

A stranger.

There was no doubt now—this man wasn’t from Pelugia. His accent was different, foreign.

Lord Alphonso turned to Adele, his face devoid of emotion. Then he looked back at the man. For a moment, it seemed he would refuse, that this truly was the end. Her vision blurred, her lungs screamed for air—then, suddenly, the rope loosened.

She dropped onto the wooden platform with a hard thud, her chest heaving, air rushing into her lungs in ragged bursts. Her fingers clutched at her throat as she coughed, dazed by the unexpected reprieve.

Lord Alphonso gestured for the cloaked man to step forward, and he did. His face remained obscured, but he pointed at Adele while speaking in low, measured tones. She barely processed their exchange. All she could think about was how she had just escaped death.

And then, dread crept in.

A sickening, twisted smile spread across Alphonso’s face as he turned to her.

“A different punishment will be given to the omega slave,” he suddenly said, his voice laced with cruel amusement.

Her heart pounded. It felt as if she had jumped from burning coals straight into a raging fire.

“This treacherous slave has been granted to this fine gentleman, a renowned slave trader of our great Empire, Kadar.”

The world tilted.

Her breath caught as the words sank in.

No. Not Kadar.

If Pelugia was hell for omegas, then Kadar was something far worse.

“No. No,” she muttered, shaking her head as panic seized her. She tried to stand, but strong hands grabbed her.

“No!” She thrashed, but they held firm.

Then a voice rang out.

“Adele!”

Her head snapped up.

Malik.

He was rushing toward her, guards chasing after him. He shoved one aside and leapt onto the platform, ignoring the blows rained down on him.

He fell to his knees before her, his hands grasping her face.

His left eye was swollen shut, his body covered in bruises, his skin marred with blood.

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

The guards moved to pull him away, but a single word stopped them.

“Let them.”

The cloaked stranger’s voice rang out, firm and commanding. The guards hesitated, glancing at Lord Alphonso. A frown tugged at his lips, but after a beat, he gave a curt nod.

Malik’s hands trembled as they cradled Adele’s face.

“They can’t take you there,” he choked out, tears mixing with the blood on his skin.

She held his face in return, her fingers stained red. He pressed his lips to hers in a desperate kiss.

“There’s no other way,” she whispered brokenly. “They won’t even let us be together in death.”

If she had died today, at least they could have met in the afterlife, far from this wretched existence.

“It’s still possible,” he murmured.

Carefully, he pulled a dagger from where it had been hidden beneath his tattered linen.

Adele’s breath hitched. She knew what he meant.

More tears fell.

She couldn’t live without him. This was better.

-

Malik pressed his forehead to hers, his breath shallow. With steady hands, she took the dagger.

Before she could thrust it…

Malik gasped.

A sickening gurgle tore from his throat.

Warm droplets splashed onto her skin.

She froze.

A sword pierced through Malik's neck, the tip mere inches from her face.

Her body locked in horror as his eyes widened in agony. Blood poured from his lips and neck, spilling onto her.

He grasped at his throat, choking, as the blade was wrenched free.

Slowly, she looked up.

Lord Alphonso stood there, smiling, as blood dripped from the sword in his hand.

Adele gasped, watching Malik die right in front of her.

As he collapsed, she caught him, pressing his limp body against hers.

A scream tore from her throat as his face grew pale, the light fading from his eyes.

“I… I-I’ll meet… you,” he whispered.

Then he was gone.

“No!” she screamed, her body trembling violently. Tears poured down her face as she pressed her forehead against his, her sobs shaking her. Her tears fell onto his cold skin, but he didn’t react. He never would again.

Then her fingers tightened around the dagger still clutched in her hand.

Rage burning in her.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Lord Alphonso. He had turned away, facing the crowd, basking in his twisted triumph as he raised his sword in the air.

She looked at the dagger. Then back at him.

She would take his life… and then end it all.

Without thinking, she shot to her feet and lunged at him, dagger poised to strike.

But before she could land the fatal blow, hands seized her from all sides.

Alphonso turned, his eyes widening in realization before rage twisted his features.

“You insolent brat,” he spat.

The slap was sudden, brutal. Her head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood pooling in her mouth.

She barely felt it.

Because her eyes had landed on Malik’s lifeless body once more.

A pain deeper than anything physical tore through her.

The gods… they were truly nonexistent.

That was her last thought before everything went dark.

She didn’t know what had happened to her or how long she had been unconscious.

But the first thing she became aware of as she woke up was the rhythmic jostling of her body. It wasn’t someone shaking her—it felt like she was inside something moving.

Her eyes fluttered open, but the world was blurry. Her body ached as she shifted, her bones popping in protest. The floor beneath her was damp. Cold.

Slowly, her vision cleared.

And then she realized three things.

One, there were figures around her, all chained to the walls just as she was.

Two, she was in a dark, musty space, something like a cellar.

Three, she was on a ship.

“What is this place?” she muttered, her voice hoarse.

“Oh, look, she’s awake,” someone said.

The voice was female, but Adele couldn’t make out her features in the darkness.

“W-where am I?” she rasped.

A pause. Then, a voice answered.

“You’re on slave trader Mateo’s ship.” A hollow chuckle.

“On the way to the Dark Empire, Kadar.”

Her heart plummeted.

A cold dread coiled in her stomach.

Kadar.

Worse than death.