Chapter 10 Conquest and Enslavement

Layla's POV

I huddled in the corner of our basement, knees pulled tight against my chest. The sounds of battle had raged throughout the night—snarls, howls of pain, the thunder of running feet. Pine Hollow was fighting for its very existence, and all I could do was hide and pray.

Then, sometime before dawn, the noises changed. The clash of combat gave way to shouts of command, then scattered cries of anguish. Finally, the most terrifying sound of all—silence. A stillness so complete, so unnatural, it could only mean one thing.

We had lost.

I remained frozen in place, barely daring to breathe. Minutes stretched into hours as morning light filtered through the small basement window. The silence was occasionally broken by distant voices—unfamiliar ones, speaking with the harsh accents of Shadow Creek.

Then came the bells. Not our usual ceremonial chimes, but a different pattern—three sharp peals followed by one long toll. The invader's signal.

"All residents to the central square," a voice boomed through our territory, amplified by magic. "Immediately. Those who resist will be executed."

My legs trembled as I climbed the basement stairs. Our home, once warm and inviting, now felt like a stranger's house. Nothing had been touched, yet everything had changed.

Outside, others were emerging from their homes, faces pale with shock and fear. We moved like sleepwalkers toward the central square. I searched the crowd for familiar faces—my mother, my friends, anyone who might offer comfort or explanation.

As we approached the square, I saw them. Not warriors returning home, but prisoners of war.

Our pack warriors—neighbors, friends, family—being herded into the square by Shadow Creek soldiers. Their hands were bound with silver-laced ropes, their faces bloodied and defeated. These weren't returning heroes; they were conquered wolves being displayed as trophies on their own territory.

Then I saw him. My father. He was being roughly dragged forward, unable to walk properly with his missing right leg. His face was bruised, a deep gash across his forehead crusted with dried blood. But it was the emptiness in his eyes that terrified me most. I'd never seen him look so... broken.

There was no sign of Alpha Donovan.

The pack's warning bells continued their ominous toll, driving more frightened residents toward the square. We huddled together, instinctively seeking safety in numbers that no longer existed.

Victor stood on the Alpha's platform, looking down at us with cold satisfaction. Our captured warriors were forced to kneel in a line before him, silver ropes ensuring their compliance.

My father's eyes found mine in the crowd. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head—a warning to stay quiet, to not draw attention.

"People of Pine Hollow," Victor's voice carried effortlessly across the gathering. "Your pack has fallen. Your Alpha, Donovan, has been killed in battle."

Gasps and cries erupted around me. Someone nearby collapsed, wailing. I felt my knees weaken, but somehow remained standing.

"From this day forward, Pine Hollow is no more. These lands and all who dwell on them now belong to Shadow Creek."

Through the chaos of emotions—grief, fear, rage—something else suddenly crashed through me. A wave of such intense anguish and fury that it nearly knocked me off my feet.

The mate bond. Ethan.

Somewhere, he was alive, feeling the same devastation I was, but amplified by a thousand. His pain was so raw, so visceral, I could almost taste it. And beneath it all, a burning need for vengeance that scorched through our connection.

I clutched at my chest, struggling to breathe through the dual assault of my own horror and Ethan's projected emotions.

"Your survival depends on your obedience," Victor continued, seemingly pleased by our collective distress. "The rules are simple. You will work. You will obey. You will show absolute loyalty to your new Alpha. Those who resist will be executed. Those who serve well may eventually earn privileges."

A man near the front—Mr. Collins, who owned the bakery—suddenly lunged forward. "You murdered our Alpha! You won't get away with this!"

Before anyone could react, Victor nodded to his Beta. The man moved with shocking speed, seizing Mr. Collins by the throat. One brutal twist, and the baker's body crumpled to the ground.

Someone screamed. A woman tried to run, only to be caught by a Shadow Creek warrior who dragged her back to the gathering by her hair. Victor nodded again, and the warrior snapped her neck with casual efficiency.

"Anyone else feel the need to express their... disappointment?" Victor asked, his voice deadly calm.

Silence fell, broken only by muffled sobs.

"Good. Tomorrow, you will be assigned your duties. Until then, return to your homes."

The crowd dispersed slowly, people moving like sleepwalkers. I caught one last glimpse of my father before they dragged the prisoners away. His eyes held a message I couldn't quite decipher—was it hope? A promise? Or merely goodbye?

---

Three days later, I barely recognized my own life. They'd assigned me to the Stevens family—high-ranking members of Shadow Creek who'd been given one of our nicest homes. Mrs. Stevens worked me from dawn till dusk, cleaning, cooking, serving their every need with a smile or risk punishment.

I scrubbed harder at the kitchen floor, my knees raw from hours on the cold tiles. The harsh cleaning solution stung my cracked hands, nothing like the gentle herbal soap Mom used to make.

The thought of her made my chest ache. No one would tell me exactly where she was, only rumors that she'd been forced to work in the new hospital wing, treating Shadow Creek warriors. I hadn't seen her since that terrible day in the square.

"You missed a spot," Mrs. Stevens said, pointing to a corner I'd already cleaned twice. "Do it again."

I bit my tongue and dipped my rag back into the bucket. As I leaned forward, pain shot through my lower back—the same dull ache Dad used to complain about after long days standing on his feet.

Dad, who now couldn't even stand properly. A passing delivery boy had whispered to me yesterday that they'd seen him at the mining camp, dragging himself along with a makeshift crutch, forced to haul ore despite his missing leg. The wound was barely healed. How could anyone expect him to work in such conditions?

"Faster," Mrs. Stevens snapped. "My husband will be home soon, and dinner isn't even started."

I quickened my movements, wincing as my raw knees scraped against the floor. Mr. Stevens was worse than his wife—his eyes followed me everywhere, lingering in ways that made my skin crawl.

Last night, I'd overheard him discussing the "reassignment" of unmated females with another Shadow Creek officer. The very thought made me think of Selena and Maya. At least they were relatively safe—their status as neutral witches respected, though they were confined to their cottage and forbidden from practicing certain spells. Small mercies in a world suddenly devoid of them.

As I emptied the dirty water outside, I gazed up at the moon, nearly full now. Somewhere under this same moon was Ethan. No one knew for certain what had happened to him. Some said he'd escaped with a handful of elders. Others whispered darker things—that he'd been killed and his body hidden to prevent him becoming a martyr.

But I knew better. I could still feel him through our bond—distant, muted, but alive. I clung to that connection like a drowning person to driftwood.

"Girl! Where are you?" Mrs. Stevens called sharply from inside.

I hurried back, shoulders hunched in automatic submission. As I worked, my mind drifted to last night's curfew announcement. Victor had ordered that any Pine Hollow member found outside after dark would be severely punished. I'd heard stories of what that punishment entailed—public whippings, days without food, or worse.

By the time I finished my chores, night had fallen. Mrs. Stevens had retired early with a headache, and Mr. Stevens was attending some strategy meeting with Victor. The two teenage sons were out on patrol training. The house was silent, and for the first time in days, I was alone.

Tonight was my chance. I'd been planning it carefully—the route to take, the shadows to hide in. I had to find my mother, had to know she was alright. Maybe she had news of Dad, of others.

I slipped out the back door, keeping to the shadows. The streets were eerily empty, the once-vibrant community now a ghost town after dark. I crept along the side of buildings, freezing at every sound. The hospital was three blocks away—I could make it if I was careful.

I'd nearly reached the second block when a voice cut through the darkness.

"Well, what do we have here?"