Chapter 5: Chains That Cannot Break

Chapter 5: Chains That Cannot Break

His words haunted me: “They’ll never let us be free.”

That night, I barely slept. The rain tapped against my window like restless fingers, and I kept seeing Jack’s face — the anger, the sorrow, and that fleeting crack in his cold mask.

I wanted to believe that if I just stayed kind, if I just showed him enough patience, he would one day let me in. But his warning echoed in my chest, heavy and sharp. My family would never allow me to see him as anything more than property. To them, he was a servant — a slave. To me, he was something I couldn’t yet name.

The next morning, Father summoned me to the grand dining hall. His eyes were sharp, his tone clipped. “I hear you spend too much time with the boy,” he said, not bothering to call Jack by name.

“He has a name,” I whispered, though my voice trembled.

Father’s gaze hardened. “Do not speak back. That man is a reminder of a ruined house, of people who dared to challenge us. Do not dishonor this family by lowering yourself.”

I lowered my eyes, hiding the storm in my chest. To argue with Father was useless. He had power in every corner of this city. His words were law, his will unbreakable. Yet inside me, something whispered that Jack was right. Freedom was impossible — not while chains like these bound us both.

That evening, I went searching for Jack again. I found him near the old well behind the stables, sharpening a rusted blade, his movements steady and controlled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without looking up.

“Why not?” I asked softly.

His eyes flicked toward me, filled with warning. “Because they’re watching you. Watching me. If they think for a second that you… care, it will end badly.”

My heart pounded, but I took a step closer anyway. “I don’t care what they think.”

Jack let out a bitter laugh. “That’s because you don’t understand the cost. I’ve lived with chains all my life. And people like your father… they’ll make sure those chains never break.”

His words should have frightened me. Instead, I felt a strange fire rising in my chest. “Then I’ll break them with you.”

For the first time, his hand froze on the blade. He looked at me, eyes wide, as if I had spoken something dangerous. Maybe I had.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered.

“I do,” I insisted. My voice shook, but my heart didn’t. “You think I can’t understand your pain, but maybe I can understand one thing: you shouldn’t have to carry it alone.”

The silence between us grew heavy, thick with unspoken fears. Then, suddenly, Jack stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. His expression was unreadable — anger, sorrow, or something else entirely.

“You’ll destroy yourself,” he said darkly. “You’ll destroy everything.”

“Maybe,” I breathed, looking up at him. “But if it means saving you, then it’s worth it.”

For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His jaw tightened, and I saw the war inside him — a battle between hate and something softer, something he didn’t want to admit.

But just as quickly, the walls slammed back into place. Jack turned away, his voice cold again. “Stay away from me. For your own good.”

He left me there by the well, my heart aching, my hands trembling. His words were cruel, but I couldn’t believe them anymore. Because for a moment — just one fragile moment — I saw the truth in his eyes.

He didn’t hate me. Not completely.

And that was what made everything far more dangerous.

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