Talk About the Direct Approach...

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Ignoring myself

*Macy's POV*

When I was younger, I had myself convinced that one day, I would be captured by an evil villain and stuck in a tower guarded by a dragon. I would sit and wait for my knight in shining armor to come and slay the dragon, save me, and we would ride off into the sunset to our happily ever after.

That's pretty much every little girl's ultimate fantasy. However, I'm sure reality is trying to mess with me in its usual sick and twisted way. Captured by an evil villain? Check. Sort of anyways. More like ran away from a bad guy to try and play hero.

Stuck in a tower guarded by a dragon? Nope. I'm stuck in a prison cell that smells heavily of mildew and after-gym-socks. And sadly, I don't get a fire-breathing dragon guarding me. Just werewolves and metal bars.

I'm still rooting for my knight in shining armor though. But my knight in shining armor is going to be my mate in shining...fur, I guess.

Funny twist, isn't it?

So here I am, rudely shoved into this smelly cell, silver bands still securely locked around my wrists—which, by the way, are bugging the hell out of me. I honestly don't know how they expect me to try and get away without them anyways, but Donny had said they were necessary. For him to keep me here, at least. It's not like I know how to go wolf again though.

Waylon couldn't say much to me with Donny around, although I don't know if he has anything to say. I would hope so. I mean, he practically saved me from getting my throat ripped out by a very grumpy werewolf. But, as he was handing me a pair of pants to wear, he did some sort of reassuring head nod. Either that, or it was just a regular head nod. I'm just hoping for the former.

And I hope he comes back soon, because I have a few questions for him. Plus, I need a mirror. I know his eyes are yellow and all, and he said it's the same with me since we're both changed, but maybe he's just messing with me and wearing contacts. And I want to know if everything went well. Could I possibly get, I don't know, some weird disease or disorder from this?

Maybe it would be helpful if this snippy, oh-so nice voice in my head would give me answers. But no, she's too busy complaining about missing Cayton. Not that I don't, because that's practically all I can think about right now, but it would be helpful if she had some suggestions or something.

Other than that, she mostly tells me how I'm weak for getting caught and not trying to escape, and how I'm 'not the sharpest tool in the shed'.

Sweet thing she is.

I pointed out that we're technically the same person—or person with a wolf voice in her head—and all I got was some guttural growl ringing in my head. Yea, this whole 'wolf voice' thing is really freaky, but I guess it's nice to have someone to talk to. Even if she complains and nags more than my mother—a feat I thought was impossible, until now.

I scramble up the metal ladder of this incredibly rickety and uncomfortable-looking bunk bed, claiming top bunk, even though I'm not sure if anyone is here to refuse. Judging by the random items around the room, I suspect I have a cell mate.

I lean my back against the cool stone wall, taking the time to look around this small, rinky-dink stone room. With very little to look at, I turn my gaze to the metal bars at the entrance, taking a look around the outside. I got put in the last cell, so there is no one to the right of this cell. Whoever is to the left, I don't know. But across from me, I can see a sleeping figure on the top bunk, snoring rather loudly.

Next to that is another cell, with someone standing in front of the bars, arms hanging out as he takes a look around. Yea, I didn't get the most pleasant look from him when Donny and Waylon were bringing me in. Mostly, he looked like he would devour me if I got close enough. And not in the I'll-kill-you-because-I'm-a-badass-convict-werewolf kind of way. More in a Cayton-would-kill-him-for-looking-at-me-like-that-if-he-was-here kind of way.