BOUND BY MIDNIGHT

Katherine's POV

I never imagined that one day could unspool so disastrously—and yet so defiantly—in my life. The day had begun like any other. I had been in the market square, arranging the few moon lilies and wildflowers I'd gathered that morning. My small stall, hidden in a cramped corner of our impoverished district, was my only means of survival. Every flower was a promise of a meager meal, a chance to keep my family from slipping further into despair.

That morning, as I carefully arranged my blooms, Marissa—the one who had tormented me for as long as I could remember—appeared out of nowhere. With her cruel smirk and venomous tone, she circled my stall like a predator eyeing its prey. "Do you really think these pathetic blooms can earn you anything?" she sneered, her voice low enough for everyone within earshot to hear.

I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation, but something inside me refused to break. I met her gaze, even as I tried to ignore her spite. "I do what I must," I replied, voice trembling only slightly with anger and fear.

I knew her words were designed to wound, and worse still, I knew that she would twist my actions to make me seem unworthy. No sooner had she spat her insult than I heard the whispered rumor—a lie that I had stolen from another stall. The cold grip of dread seized my heart. I had done nothing wrong, yet I could feel the gears of fate turning against me.

It wasn't long before the familiar sound of heavy boots echoed along the street. I looked up to see dark silhouettes approaching—Elliot's guards. Their expressions were hard and unyielding, and before I could protest, rough hands seized my arms. I struggled desperately, clutching my basket of precious flowers, but it was all in vain. They dragged me from my stall and down narrow, twisting alleys until I was thrown into a grand, stone hall lit by harsh, flickering torches.

I was forced onto a raised platform in the center of the hall, my body trembling as every eye in the room fixed upon me. In the center of this assembly stood King Elliot—a figure so imposing, so frighteningly beautiful in his tailored black suit, that my blood ran cold. His crimson eyes burned into me, and I could almost feel the weight of his disdain.

"I did nothing wrong," I cried out, my voice quivering but clear. "I have only ever done what is necessary to survive!"

My words were met with murmurs—some of pity, some of disbelief. I noticed, from the darkened corner of the hall, the twisted smile of Marissa, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at my humiliation. I fought back tears as King Elliot's voice thundered through the hall. "You dare defy me, human?" he roared. "Your insolence will not go unpunished."

Before I could muster another plea, the guards closed in. The first lash of the whip struck my back, and a fiery pain exploded through my flesh. I bit down on a cry, tears stinging my eyes, as blow after blow rained down upon me. Every snap of the leather was a searing reminder of my lowly status—a human to be broken and controlled.

I wanted to beg for mercy, to explain that I had done nothing but try to live, but my voice was lost amid the relentless sound of my suffering. Even as the pain blurred my vision, I held my head high, defiant in the face of utter degradation. I would not apologize for who I was—even as each lash etched a burning pattern of pain across my skin.

Then, in a moment that felt both surreal and final, I sensed a shift. As the whipping subsided, I felt the atmosphere in the hall grow tense. I could barely register the sound of my own ragged breaths when I felt a new, sharper pain at the side of my neck—a sudden pressure that stole my breath away.

King Elliot had stepped forward.

I tried to turn my head, but the room spun and the pain became all-consuming. I felt his fangs sink into my delicate skin, a searing, tearing sensation that mingled with the agony of every lash. My world narrowed into a single point of excruciating intensity as a rush of warmth filled me—the taste of my own blood intermingled with his. In that horrific instant, everything became a blur of pain and darkness.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, I faintly heard a soft, anguished cry from behind me. I caught a glimpse of Jace—my friend, my secret solace—his eyes filled with both anger and sorrow. I could see him in the shadows, helplessly watching as I was subjected to the king's cruel punishment. His silent promise, a mix of desperation and quiet determination, reached me even in the depths of my torment: he would not let this injustice go unanswered.

But as the overwhelming darkness began to close in around me, I struggled to hold on to one last thought. I would never, ever submit. Even as my body betrayed me, growing numb and unresponsive, the fierce flame of defiance burned within me. I refused to let their cruelty erase who I was. I was more than a flower-seller; I was a human with a heart and a will that would not be easily broken.

Slowly, the searing pain gave way to a strange, numbing cold. I felt as if I were floating, detached from the agony that had defined every moment before. The voices in the hall faded into an indistinct murmur, and the world around me became a blur of shadows and muffled sounds. In that moment of fading consciousness, I was certain of one thing: I might be bleeding, and I might be on the brink of death, but I would never let their cruelty define me.

I clung desperately to the thought that if I ever awoke, I would fight with every ounce of strength left in me to reclaim my life, my dignity, and my freedom. I silently vowed that the memory of this torment would not be in vain—that someday, justice would come for those who had so mercilessly tried to break me.

Even as the darkness deepened and my body felt as if it were dissolving into nothingness, I held onto that fierce spark of defiance. In the depths of oblivion, I could still hear my own whispered promise: I would rise again. I would reclaim every stolen breath and every stolen moment of my life, no matter how much it cost.

Jace's distant voice—barely a whisper—echoed in the back of my mind, a reminder of his silent pledge to protect me. Though I could not see him clearly through the haze of pain, I knew that his determination burned as fiercely as my own. That shared defiance, however fleeting, was the one light piercing the darkness of this brutal night.

And so, as the world around me faded into black, I surrendered not to despair, but to the hope that my spirit, unyielding and untamed, would one day break free from these chains of suffering. For I was not done, and my story was far from over.