NTR: Stealing wives in Another World-Chapter 73: Prisoners

The morning was quiet—too quiet.

Nyra walked ahead of the group, dressed in her formal foxkin robes. Soft silks flowed around her hips, hiding the bruises Fina had left on her inner thighs. Her expression was calm, composed... but Allen saw the tension in her jaw, the way her hands trembled just slightly at her sides. She was rattled—and trying hard to pretend she wasn’t.

Behind her walked Allen, Fina, and Rinni. They kept their heads low and their steps quiet, blending in like her retinue. But under the surface, the truth crackled like lightning ready to strike.

They were walking into the foxkin’s filthiest secret—and about to blow the whole system apart.

As they reached the outer district, a pair of foxkin guards stepped into their path. Armor polished, spears in hand, tails flicking with mild curiosity.

One of them raised a brow. "Lady Nyra," he said with a nod, "where are you headed? And... with these three?"

Allen met the guard’s eyes with a calm, practiced smirk, playing it cool. Fina stood just a little behind Nyra, her expression unreadable. Rinni looked nervous but kept her gaze down.

Nyra didn’t flinch. Her voice came out steady—too steady.

"I’m escorting them to the old Moon Shrine," she said smoothly. "It’s for an inspection. Elder yoru’s order."

The guards exchanged a quick look. "Didn’t hear anything about that."

Nyra’s gaze narrowed, just a sliver of her old fire slipping back in. "Because it wasn’t your business to hear. You’ll stand down and let us pass."

There was a beat—a sharp, tense silence.

Then, the guards stepped aside.

"Of course, Lady Nyra."

She walked on, not daring to look back until they were well past the checkpoint and deep into the forest paths that led toward the ancient shrine.

Once they were alone again, Allen stepped up beside her, voice low. "You pulled that off like you weren’t just getting your pussy stomped on half an hour ago."

Nyra didn’t look at him. "I was born into lies. I learned how to wear a mask before I even had a name."

Fina scoffed behind her. "Mask’s slipping, sweetheart."

Rinni murmured, "They didn’t even blink when she said ’Moon Shrine.’ Creepy..."

Nyra stopped at a weathered stone circle overgrown with moss. The ruins of the Moon Shrine—once sacred, now twisted into something unholy.

She knelt by a cracked slab, brushed aside the moss, and pressed her palm against a carved sigil. A soft click echoed beneath them.

The ground gave way with a mechanical groan, revealing a descending stairway swallowed in shadows. The scent hit them instantly—dank, metal, blood.

Allen’s jaw tightened. "Let’s finish this."

They moved in quickly, quiet but alert. The underground tunnel was lined with cold blue torchlight, casting ghostly glows on the walls. As they walked deeper, the air thickened with the weight of suffering.

Then came the cages.

The first cell was silent... until they heard it: a soft, broken moan.

A young wolfkin boy, barely old enough to speak, looked up from a filthy pile of straw. His eyes were sunken, and scars covered his skin like cruel tattoos.

"Oh gods..." Rinni whispered, covering her mouth.

Allen moved fast, finding the lock and breaking it with a nearby chain. "We’re getting everyone out."

One by one, they opened cells, freeing beastkin of every kind—lionkin, bearkin, pantherkin. Starved, beaten, some too weak to stand. Their eyes told the stories—of torment, of betrayal, of hope long since abandoned.

Fina stood still, shaking with rage. "This... this is what your tribe protects?"

Nyra stared at the floor, shame painting her face. "Yes. And worse. The Rhelgar family pays for this silence. And we foxkin deliver."

"And you were gonna deliver Fina and Rinni next," Allen growled.

Nyra flinched. "I was. The elders planned it. I... I helped plan it. But I’m not going to let them anymore."

Allen looked at her for a long second. "Then help us finish this."

They armed the freed prisoners with whatever they could—broken tools, chains, even jagged scraps of metal from the walls. The torches flickered like war drums.

Before they left, Allen grabbed Nyra by the arm. "One more thing."

She turned, wary.

"If you really want redemption... you’re going to walk us right into the high council’s chambers."

Nyra nodded slowly. "Then let’s make the bastards choke on their own filth."

Meanwhile, at the foxkin village’s inner court...

Elders lounged around a circle of fine cushions, sipping spiced wine, talking softly of shipments and schedules.

Allen stood at the edge of the corridor, the stale air of the prison thick with iron and rot. The flickering torchlight caught the faces of the freed prisoners—dozens of them huddled close, confused, hungry, trembling. His heart pounded with a slow, heavy rage.

He had seen cages before.

But this?

This was a graveyard that hadn’t even bothered to bury the dead.

Allen turned slowly, scanning the crowd.

Nearly every face staring back at him belonged to a woman—wolfkin, deerkin, bearkin, leopardkin—each one gaunt, bruised, eyes wide from trauma and dimmed by exhaustion. Some clutched their stomachs, bones jutting from under paper-thin skin. Their clothes hung in tatters, most barely more than stained scraps of linen. They didn’t look like survivors.

They looked like the forgotten.

The other ten percent? Boys. Maybe ten or twelve of them, none older than fifteen, all thin as skeletons. Some couldn’t even hold themselves upright, leaning against walls or each other, their bodies trembling just to stay conscious.

Allen’s rage boiled low and deep in his gut.

This wasn’t an army. This was a massacre in slow motion.

He stepped forward, raising his voice just enough to cut through the silence.

"You’re free," he said, voice sharp but steady. "But I need you to stay here—for now. Lock these doors behind us. Anyone who enters that’s not us?"

He paused. "Kill them."

There were murmurs, some nods. A few clenched their weak fists around makeshift weapons—rusted chains, bent bars, jagged shards of broken stone. They weren’t warriors.

But they’d seen hell.

And that kind of fire didn’t go out easy.

"We’ll be back for you," Allen added, locking eyes with a wolfkin girl whose hands shook so bad she could barely hold a spoon. "When we return, we burn this whole system to the ground."

Fina stepped up beside him, face hard as stone, ears twitching from the weight of the silence. "We make them pay. For all of this."

Nyra stood a few paces behind, guilt etched into every breath she took. She didn’t speak. Didn’t dare.

Allen turned back toward the stairs. "Let’s go. Time to cut off the head of this rotten fucking beast."

Back aboveground...

The village was peaceful. Quiet in that creepy, "something’s about to go down" kind of way. The high sun peeked through the trees, dappled shadows playing on the cobbled streets. Foxkin civilians bustled about, totally unaware that their world was about to go up in smoke.

Nyra led the group through a back route, avoiding the central plaza. Her robes fluttered in the breeze, hiding the raw bruises between her thighs, the leftover shame still glowing hot under her skin.

She spoke without looking at them. "The high council is in session. The tribute numbers were being finalized today. They’ll all be there—every elder, every bastard who signed the orders."

Allen nodded, eyes burning forward. "Perfect."

Rinni kept close to Fina, her usual shyness buried under a mask of quiet fury. "Do you think... do you think they’ll fight?"

Fina cracked her knuckles, tail swaying like a blade. "Oh, they’ll beg first. Then they’ll fight."

At the Grand Hall of Elders...

The double doors loomed ahead—ornate, golden, carved with images of foxkin dominance and divine right. Inside: thick rugs, silken robes, spiced wine, and the smug laughter of nobles who thought their sins would never catch up to them.

Nyra pushed open the doors.

The room froze.

Five elders turned as one, their smug chatter cut off by the sight of her—and the three behind her.

Allen didn’t wait for permission.

He stepped forward, clenching his, letting the weight of every single prisoner behind him pour into his voice.

"This trial is overdue."