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Part 8
— I’ll let you go if… — he began, but the dragons didn’t even bother listening. One of them roared furiously, and Bruce, dignity forgotten, jerked back as if ready to bolt for the exit.
— Fuck this! — he squeaked. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to gather his thoughts. But the dragons were clearly waiting to be freed, and that was why he had come here. Bruce quickly snapped out of it and, moving his legs awkwardly and absurdly fast, rushed to the first chain, desperately trying not to show that, with each passing second, fear was filling him more and more. His legs, seemingly moving on their own, scurried across the stone floor, entirely losing their usual confidence; his pace looked more like the rushed, panicked sprint of a scared girl eager to get this over with.
Reaching the first chain, Bruce grabbed it with both hands, straining every muscle. He pushed with all his might, nearly wrenching his shoulder, his legs weakening beneath him—the chain locks felt immovable. Gritting his teeth, he focused, grunting and contorting, managing to move the lock a single millimeter before it slipped back into place, mocking his efforts.
— Damn it, — he hissed, letting go of the cursed chain and nearly toppling over. "Showed off for nothing," flashed through his mind as he spun around in frustration toward the dragons. They watched him silently, barely holding back irritated growls. One of the dragons, lurking in the shadows, exhaled, and Bruce felt a wave of heat brush his face.
— Yeah, yeah, I got it! — he snapped. — I’m opening it! Quit staring at me like that!
With a mix of sheer determination and frustration, he grabbed onto the chain with both hands, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs. He had to pause several times to catch his breath before leaning his shoulder in and yanking at the shackle again. His hands grew weaker with each tug, fingers slipping as they failed to maintain a grip on the heavy lock, and with every failed attempt, his curses grew louder and angrier.
He managed to move the latch just a couple of centimeters, but it was enough—the chain link groaned, and the lock budged ever so slightly. Exhaling with renewed energy, Bruce, unable to hide his rage, yanked it again, though his shoulders burned with strain.
— Hell yeah! — Bruce exhaled in relief and triumph as the first lock finally shifted and yielded to his efforts. Buoyed by the small victory, he stepped back, trying to hide how much his arms ached.
The dragon turned its head slightly toward the second chain, as if to express its discontent with being confined. Cursing their intelligent expressions and predatory gazes, Bruce staggered toward the second chain, tripping on the narrow hem of the dress that restricted his movements. His hair fell into his eyes again, and he brushed it away with irritation, feeling clumsy once more. A few quick steps—too small and feminine for his liking—and he reached the second chain.