45. I'm going to take you to him.
My head hurts.
Something loud and grating scrapes against metal nearby, the sound drilling into my skull. I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to block it out, but it doesn't stop.
Where am I?
I force my eyes open. Everything is grey—blank metal walls, floor, ceiling.
The more I stare, the more I realize there's barely any light at all, just a dim glow that makes everything feel underwater.
No window. I scan the walls for a way out, but there's nothing except a thin seam barely visible against the metal.
I push myself up on one elbow, my arm shaking with the effort.
Then I see the scratches.
Deep gouges everywhere, carved into the metal like someone—or something—tried to claw their way out. The marks run floor to ceiling, chaotic and desperate.
My stomach turns. I look away, pressing my palm against the cold floor to steady myself.
I try to piece together what happened. Miller. The wolf with the dead eyes. His mother. That last thing he said: "There's so much more to this story than you know."
Then nothing.
A blank space where my memory should be.
This is the second time. The second time I've woken up like this—knocked out, disoriented, missing chunks of time.
My hands shake as I push myself upright, and for a second the room tilts sideways. I brace against the wall, waiting for it to steady.
The metal door scrapes open.
Three wolves step inside. I know immediately they're not human—something in the way they move, the way they watch me. They're wearing dark tactical uniforms, the same ones I've seen on the Leader's people. Pack uniforms.
Relief floods through me for half a second.
Then I see their faces.
Cold. Hard. Hostile.
My breath catches in my throat.
One of them speaks, his voice flat and unforgiving. "You're awake."
I try to sit up straighter, but my head pounds. "Where—"
"You should count your lucky stars the Leader isn't dead right now."
The words hit like a punch. My breath catches.
Dead?
"We're just here to let you know," another one says, stepping closer, "the only reason you're alive is so he can decide what happens to you."
What?
I force the words out, my throat tight. "Where am I?"
The first wolf gives me a smirk. "Don't you recognize it?" He pauses, letting the question hang. "Oh right. Last time you were here, you had better accommodations."
His expression shifts, hardening into something vicious. I instinctively try to pull back even though I'm already sitting against the wall.
"That was before you led our Leader into a trap." His voice drops, venomous. "We managed to avert the worst, but he still deserves to know what you did to him. What you did to us."
"I—" The words won't come. My head is spinning, trying to make sense of this. "I would never—"
"I'm his mate," I manage finally, my voice hoarse. "I could never betray him."
"Mate." The wolf repeats the word like it tastes bitter. "You might have mated him, but he didn't know what kind of person you really are. And he didn't have a choice."
The third wolf speaks up, his tone just as cold. "Mated to a human. That's a fate destined for tragedy and violence. He'll see that now."
"Like we said," the first one continues, "the only reason you're alive is so he can make the decision on how to handle this situation."
Handle this situation. They want me dead.
"Is he safe?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You'll know when he wakes up." The first wolf turns toward the door. "Till then, enjoy the solitude."
They leave without another word. The door scrapes shut, and I'm alone again in the scratched-up cell.
I try to concentrate on the bond, searching for any trace of him, but all I feel is confusion. A fog where he should be.
I curl up on my side, pulling my knees to my chest.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days pass. I think.
It's hard to tell without windows, without any sense of time. They bring me water and food twice a day—at least I think it's twice a day. A different wolf each time, none of them willing to meet my eyes.
I develop a routine to keep myself from going crazy. Walk the perimeter of the cell. Count my steps. Twenty-three paces from one wall to the other. Sixteen across. I trace the scratches with my fingers, wondering who made them.
I press my forehead against the cold metal wall. Count to ten. Start walking again.
The nightmares are worse.
When I manage to sleep, I'm back in that hallway. Miller's face. The wolf with glass eyes. Flashes of movement too fast to track—fighting, blood, someone screaming. Then a sharp pain at the base of my skull and everything goes dark.
I wake up gasping, my hands pressed against the cold metal floor, trying to remember if any of it was real or just my brain trying to fill in the gaps.
Sometimes I wake up certain I heard his voice. But when I reach for the bond, there's nothing. Just that same empty fog.
I try talking to the wolves who bring food. Most ignore me completely. One looks at me with such disgust it reminds me of how the Leader looked at me when we first met—before everything changed.
They don't trust me.
They never did, a voice whispers in my head. They only tolerated you because of him. Now that he's not here to see, they're treating you exactly how they always wanted to.
Like their prisoner.
The questions won't stop circling. What happened to Miller? What happened to his mother? What will happen next? What are those experiments about?
But no one's here to answer.
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I've lost count of the days when a young wolf with short hair enters the cell. I ask the same question I always do, grabbing their arm before they can leave.
"How is he?"
They shake me off, their expression hard. "Please," I try again. "I just need to know—"
"He hasn't died yet."
The words hit me like oxygen. He's alive. I can breathe again.
"Let me see him."
"Not a chance." Their voice is cold, final. "You humans bring nothing but misfortune. Nothing but pain."
"Please, just let me—"
"Shut up." They pull their arm free roughly. "You can be lucky we let you live. But when he dies, don't count on staying alive either."
The door slams shut.
I press my hand against my chest, trying to feel him through the bond. Still nothing. Just that hollow emptiness that makes me feel sick.
I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and close my eyes.
The exhaustion hits me all at once. My body feels heavy, like someone's poured concrete into my bones. I tell myself I'm just resting. Just for a minute.
But the darkness pulls me under.
I'm jolted awake by the scrape of metal.
The door.
For a second, I don't know where I am. My neck aches from the angle I've been sleeping at, my legs numb beneath me. I blink hard, trying to focus.
How long was I out?
The wolf stepping through the doorway isn't one of the usual ones. It takes my brain a moment to catch up, to recognize her.
It's Mera.
Relief floods through me so fast it actually hurts. I scramble to my feet, nearly stumbling, and grab her arms. Finally, someone who doesn't look at me like I'm the enemy.
She catches me, steadying me, and her eyes immediately start scanning my face. "Are you hurt?" Her hands move to check my head, my arms. "Did they—"
Then she stops herself. Shakes her head like she's clearing it.
"No. No, we don't have time for this." She grips my wrists firmly, her expression shifting from concern to determination. "I'm going to take you to him."
The words don't register at first. Then they do.
To him.
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees buckle slightly. "Thank you—"
But she's already pulling me toward the door, her grip firm on my wrist. "Don't talk," she whispers as we step into the tunnel outside. Her eyes dart around, checking for others. "He's in one of the more secure areas."
We move quickly through the dim corridors. Mera keeps her voice low, barely audible.
"I've been telling these idiots the entire time that you're his mate. That you have every right to see him." Her jaw tightens. "But they won't listen. They think because you're human, you're automatically the enemy."
She glances back at me, her expression softening slightly. "I know what I saw between you two. I know you didn't do this."
I want to thank her, to ask her a thousand questions, but I bite them back. Right now, all that matters is getting to him.
My legs feel weak, but I force myself to keep pace with her.
We turn another corner, moving deeper into the territory.
Toward wherever they're keeping him.