Written on April 8th, 2018

C H A P T E R  1

Tara groans and leans her head against the stone wall. The burning sensation around her wrists is something she has gotten used to, although it still can be painful, but the brand new silver chain around her neck is something that doesn't seem to get used to with time.

Complaining to the Guards or asking questions of other prisoners serves no purpose, that's something Tara has learned over the years. She had made several attempts at first; perhaps befriending a Guard would work to her advantage or having someone to speak to whose on the same side of the bars. But those attempts were in vain.

Struggling, resisting or attempting to gather information about her situation is something Tara has also given up. The only thing that it has gotten her are additional scars. The curiosity that Tara once possessed has beaten out of her, much to the satisfaction of the Guards.

The fiery, quick-witted girl that Tara was at the beginning of her adolescence has been hidden away. Not out of choice, but purely to survive. That's something Tara also knows: What she is doing now is not living, but surviving. A coupingmechanism that feels normal and ordinary to her; memories from less than six years ago seem like centuries ago.

'Délgado,' a familiar Guard growls at Tara from the other side of the dungeon. In his opinion, Tara takes too long to respond, and he hits the bars hard with his hand - which is in a leather glove. Bars that, again, consist of silver.

This produces the reaction he wanted to see: The prisoner looks up with wide eyes, knowing what awaits her. The fear that reflects in Tara's eyes is what gives the Guard the most satisfaction. The way he can make her panic without having to even touch her with a finger.

Tara lowers her gaze again, she stares into space in a daze; waiting for the recognizable – almost familiar – sound of a key being inserted into the lock of her cell, after which the door will swing open, followed by the heavy footsteps of the Guard.

'Are you looking forward to it?' he asks the rhetorical question with a sickening grin. He walks towards Tara and takes in the state of her well-being. Compared to what she looked like when she first came into captivity and entered the world of a Wolf variant of gladiatorial combat - the Pugna Vincula - she's deteriorated severely.

With a hard tug, the Guard pulls Tara from the ground, accompanied by painful cries and the sound of burning skin. Tears immediately return to Tara's eyes, but she ignores the urge to grab her throat – where the pain is the worst. Experience has taught her that it only gets worse as she can do nothing to sooth it.

Tara makes no further attempt to keep the Guard from his work and obediently does what he tells her. She turns as carefully as possible to the left, so that the man has easier access to the backs of her wrists. The long chains are released from the silver wrist cuffs.

The Guard then attaches an unbreakable rope to the cuffs, before undoing the chains on the neck cuff. There is no point in having a chain tied to the neck cuff: The Guardian is convinced that the last bit of resistance has now been forced out of Tara.

'Walk,' the man commands and gives Tara a push, not too hard so that she doesn't stumble and falls on the ground, in the direction of the door. Tara continues to walk neatly next to the Guard, matching his pace and stride. The last thing she wants is for him to pull her back – or pull her forward – causing the cuffs on her wrists to rub her skin even more.

Tara knows the route they are going to cover by heart, she has walked it so many times. Each time she walked with her head held high, her shoulders back and chest out; while thinking that it couldn't get any worse than the last time in the Arena. Time and time again, she was proven wrong in less than three hours.

'I think today will be your lucky day,' the Guard beams with a look of mischief in his eyes. Tara swallows audibly. After spending some time in the dungeons of the Pugna Vincula organization, she no longer makes any effort to hide her fear.

Anyone in her position would be scared. Anyone who isn't is an incredible fool.

'It's rude not to respond, you know that,' the Guard snaps at her since Tara remains silent. Out of annoyance, he pulls hard on the rope in his hands, causing a soft cry to escape Tara's mouth. Fortunately, she manages to keep her balance, which saves her from new open wounds on her hands from the pebbles on the ground.

'You're lucky we're almost there,' the Guard whispers, pulling Tara closer to him. 'I would have liked to try my new weapons on you,' he adds and lets his sharp canines graze her jaw softly – but still hard enough to frighten Tara.

From a distance, Tara hears the enthusiastic cheers of the Wolves and the cries of anger when things don't go as they wish. It is a sick event, Tara has no other words for it. She would prefer to close her eyes, take a deep breath and gather the energy to face a new session in the Pugna Vincula; however, that time is not there.

Using brute force, the Guard pulls Tara into the Arena and deliberately trips her, causing her to land on the ground with a dull thud. Immediately the Wolves' nostrils are filled with the smell of fresh blood, which only makes them shout more fanatically.

'Get up!' the Guard shouts with a loud voice, so that the entire Arena can hear him. He gives the cord a hard tug, which makes Tara grit her teeth. She manages to get up and then makes her way to the Guard, knowing that he will hand over the rope to the organizer - who will then continue speaking.

'Welcome, Wolves!' opens the organizer and spreads his arms wide in the air. Some cheering resounds from the stands and out of the corner of Tara's eye she sees some enthusiastic fists moving in the air. 'Today I have Tara Délgado, prisoner 7654, for you. Anyone interested in more information?'

The man with light blond hair gives his standardized speech, something that Tara could recite backwards by now. She also knows that if there is enough noise from the stands, the man will continue and provide additional information before bidding starts.

'Age!' Tara hears someone shout, which is then followed by some nodding of agreement from other Wolves next to him. Others interrupt them again, not wanting to have to wait for information that they don't care about. They just want some simple entertainment for now, not life stories.

She still understands questions about her endurance – how long it takes for Tara to be knocked out in a fight. She gets why the audience would want to know those things, but subjects like her age, origins and full name bother Tara.

None of that matters, does it?

'If there is anyone out there who wants to buy Tara for their own use, speak up now. Otherwise we will continue with the planned program,' the organizer continues undisturbed after he has answered all the desired questions from his audience about the prisoner. For a few minutes the man remains silent, giving the Wolves in the audience time to think about their next move.

When those minutes are filled with silence, he nods approvingly. 'Let's move on to the entertainment,' he shouts into his microphone.That being the cue, loud music starts playing in the background. Tara takes a deep breath to prepare her for the pain that is about to be inflicted on her.