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Speech

The quarters were suffocatingly silent, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked horrors they had just witnessed. Each slave sat on their cold, narrow bunks, their expressions hollow. The scent of iron and death still lingered in the air, as if it had clung to their skin like an unwelcome second layer.

Jake leaned against the wall, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and filled with rage he could no longer contain. “I can’t—” he started, his voice trembling, but Luke placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him with a firm, steady gaze.

“Not yet,” Luke murmured. His tone was quiet but carried the weight of authority. “Wait until the vampires are gone.”

The heavy iron door creaked open, and a group of guards stomped through, their eyes scanning the room. The slaves stiffened, their gazes glued to the floor, their bodies tense with fear. The guards exchanged a few muttered words before departing, their footsteps fading into the corridor.

When the silence returned, Luke stood, his movements deliberate. He looked around the room, his gaze meeting each pair of frightened eyes. He saw the fear, the hopelessness, and the lingering shock of what they had just endured. But beneath it all, he saw something else—a flicker of resentment. A small ember waiting to be stoked into a flame.

“This isn’t living,” Luke began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. He stepped into the center of the room, commanding their attention. “What we saw tonight—it’s just a reminder of what we all already know. None of us are getting out of here alive.”

Some slaves turned their heads away, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze. Others leaned forward, drawn to the raw truth in his words.

“You have three choices,” Luke continued, his tone sharp, almost brutal. “You can stay here, keep your heads down, and pray the vampires find you useful for a little while longer before they rip you apart.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Or, you can screw up, get caught, and die screaming in the torture chambers.”

Jake stepped forward, his face still pale from the night’s events, but his anger burned brighter now. “Or,” he growled, “you can fight. Fight to get out of this hell. Fight to take back what they’ve stolen from us.”

There was a sharp laugh from the far corner of the room. Michael, one of the senior slaves, leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “You’re both insane,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think you can take on them? You saw what they did tonight. We’re nothing but cattle to them. They’ll crush you like bugs.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Luke’s eyes hardened as he turned to Michael. “You’re right,” he said coldly. “We are nothing to them. But that’s why we have to fight. They think we’re weak, that we’ll just lie down and take it. And most of us have. But I won’t. Not anymore.”

Michael sneered. “And you think dragging the rest of us into your little suicide mission is noble? You’ll just get us all killed faster.”

Jake took a step toward Michael, his fists clenched. “You’d rather sit here and wait to die?” he snapped. “At least we’re trying to do something.”

Michael stood, his posture defiant. “Some of us aren’t as eager to throw our lives away,” he shot back. “You’re not a hero, Jake. You’re just a fool who can’t see how pointless this is.”

“Enough,” Luke said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He turned to address the rest of the room, his gaze steady. “I’m not asking anyone to come with us. This isn’t a demand. It’s a choice. But for those of you who’ve had enough of this—who’d rather die fighting than live another day like this—then help us.”

From the center of the room, Elias shifted uncomfortably his skeptical expression was clear. “And what’s the plan, exactly?” he asked, his tone cautious. “You’ve got some grand escape idea, or are you just winging it?”

Luke hesitated, meeting Elias’s sharp gaze. “We’re working on it,” he admitted. “But we’ll need all the help we can get. Information, supplies, distractions—whatever you can provide. We’ll take it from there.”

Elias nodded slowly, his skepticism not entirely gone but softened by something else—curiosity, or maybe even hope. “I’m not saying I’m in,” he said, crossing his arms. “But I’ll hear you out.” Luke knew this wasn’t what Elias agreed too but hopefully that speech changed his perspective. Telling Elias about bringing the pets, now that will be a challenge.

Another murmur spread through the room, this time less fearful and more contemplative. A few slaves nodded, their faces set with determination. Others remained silent, their fear too great to overcome.

Michael, however, wasn’t finished. “You’re going to get everyone killed,” he said, his voice loud and defiant. “And when it happens, their blood will be on your hands.”

Luke turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding. “Maybe it will,” he said quietly. “But at least I’ll know I tried. What about you, Michael? Can you live with yourself, knowing you never even tried to fight back?”

Michael opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. He glared at Luke, then turned his back to the rest of the slaves, not a word coming out of his mouth.

Jake exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “That went well,” he muttered, his sarcasm barely masking his frustration.

“For those of you who are with us,” Luke said, ignoring Jake’s comment, “we’ll meet tomorrow night. Same time. If you’ve got information, share it. If you’ve got supplies, bring them. We’re not just surviving anymore. We’re fighting back.”

As the group dispersed to their bunks, Luke sat down next to Jake, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “Do you think it’s enough?” Jake asked, his voice low.

“It has to be,” Luke replied. He glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Elias, who sat on his bunk with a pensive expression. Not everyone was ready. But those who were—they might just have a chance.

And for the first time in years, the suffocating air of the slaves’ quarters felt just a little lighter and filled with not only hope, but determination