Chapter 2
The night Damon came to see me, Colton summoned me.
I had just stepped into his command tent, violin case in hand, when someone grabbed me from behind and shoved me against the table. Colton’s hand was already under my blouse, his other clamped around my throat, forcing my head back.
His kiss was hard. Brutal.
There was no tenderness in him that night-only rage.
From the table to the bed, from midnight until dawn, he didn’t stop.
By morning, I was spent. I lay limp against the edge of the bed, my fingers trembling.
Colton pulled me into his arms from behind. His voice was low, mocking.
“You jealous I’m marrying the King’s daughter?”
He paused, then added coldly, “And who are you to be jealous, Isla Warren? You’re no longer Raventon’s precious rose.”
That name-Raventon’s Rose-stirred something buried deep inside me.
Back then, I was someone. The kind of girl duke and prince fell in love with. Colton had been one of them.
But unlike the rest, he had his own way of chasing me.
L
He’d scale the walls of my family estate, risking a beating from my father, just to leave a fresh red maple leaf on my
windowsill.
During the Raventon Spring Gala, he bribed the entire lineup of dancers at a local rooftop lounge. When I passed by with my friends, the performers leaned from the balconies, waving handkerchiefs stitched to spell out one word: ISLA.
My parents were furious. My brothers threatened to press charges.
But they didn’t know what I saw when I looked up that night-
Stars catching in his hair, that irreverent grin on his face, and in the middle of all that madness…
I felt my heart stutter.
War broke out weeks later.
The sons of powerful loyalties, Colton among them, were sent off to earn their stripes.
They marched to the front lines in haste, and I had neither the time nor the right to bid him farewell.
But the morning after he left, I found another red maple leaf on my windowsill, pinned beneath a note in his messy handwriting: “When I come back a hero, I’ll marry you.”
But I never got to see him return.
My father had backed the wrong candidate in a political coup.
They raided our house. My father and brothers were executed.
My mother took her own life.
Chapter 2
3096
I was the only one left.
And I was thrown into Camp 47 as a “service volunteer”-a nicer way of saying expendable.
The first night, dozens of men stormed into my quarters like wolves.
“So this is Raventon’s Rose? The girl we all dreamed of?”
“Bet half the loyalties proposed to her back in the day.”
“Well, tonight she’s ours.”
They laughed as they closed in. I froze. My legs wouldn’t move. My throat dried up. A part of me thought-maybe I’d rather die here. Maybe it’d be better.
Then someone stormed in, clad in blood-smeared silver armor. A rifle, still dripping, slammed between me and them.
“You dare lay a hand on her?”
“You want to die that badly?”
It was Colton.
Three years had passed, and he had changed.
Tanned, hardened, a jagged scar ran down the side of his face.
But when he looked at me, his arms opened like I was something sacred.
“Thank God. You’re alive,” he whispered, shaking as he held me.
Afraid I’d fall ill in the camp, Colton moved me into his private tent.
When he had time, he’d take me out to the hills to clear my head.
He knew I loved music. Somehow, in the middle of nowhere, he found a violin. Laid it on my bed like a gift.
I played for him once. He smiled so wide, so bright, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
“If I die tomorrow,” he said that night, “at least I heard Isla Warren play.”
I really believed I could trust my heart to him.
He was rising fast through the ranks, one medal after another.
With him around, no one dared touch me.
But as his promotions piled up, so did the late-night parties.
He and the other officers drank, laughed, and sometimes invited pretty girls from the to entertain them.
I heard things. Awful things.
At first, I told myself Colton wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Then one night, in bed, he suddenly flipped me over, pressing me down in a way that made my skin crawl.
I pushed him away, instinctively.
Chapter 2
3.08%
He frowned.
“What, not like this either?”
A pause. Then, bitterly, “They all do.”
He rolled off, showered, and came back to sleep beside me like nothing had happened.
But the words stuck.
They all do.
We were all here to service. Same role.
Why was I the only one who couldn’t be used?
My heart broke in silence.
The war raged on. Colton barely had time to see me anymore.
One night, I woke to the weight of a man pinning me down, his palm smothering my mouth, his breath reeking of liquor
and smoke.
I fought. Bit. Kicked.
He slapped me across the face, and the world went white with noise.
Then-Colton.
He kicked the man off me and pulled me into his arms.
I thought he’d punish him.
But days later, I saw that same man at a barbecue, laughing, perfectly fine.
“General Prescott wouldn’t throw me under the bus for some whore,” he said, beer in hand.
“He even shared a drink with me after. Said, ‘Women come and go. But brothers? That’s for life.””
He caught my stare. Smirked.
“Damn shame, though. She was a sweet little thing. Next time, I’ll make sure I get her.”
The nausea came first. Then the trembling.
I went to Colton. Asked him why.
He was reading by the desk, brows drawn as if I’d interrupted something critical.
He didn’t answer right away-just pulled me onto his lap and began tracing lazy circles on my neck.
“Isla… Off the record, his uncle’s my second-in-command. He saved my life once. I can’t touch him.”
“And officially?” I whispered.
He sighed.
“Officially? What would I charge him with? Assaulting a military prostitute?”
Chapter 2
3.08%
I just stared.
His hand slid under my dress with practiced ease, lips brushing my cheek as he murmured,
“You’re mine. No one else gets to touch you. Just… wear something less tempting when you’re outside camp, okay?”
It was then I realized-I didn’t know the man holding me at all.
And from that moment on, I knew one thing for sure:
If I was going to survive this hell,
it wouldn’t be because of any man.
It would be because I got myself out.
