A D E N
THE FIRST HINT of dawn sifts through the iron barred window. On a usual day, this would seem pleasant and refreshing, but today for some reason it seemed different. Ominous.
The chamber is dark. Cold. Medieval.
Rats scrape the floor in search of food. Termites eat through the decayed wood. The stone floor stinks of urine and vomit.
Fuck. I tug at the chains binding my hands and feet. Blood drips steadily from the deep cuts carved into my skin. Fuck my life.
I glance at my surroundings. There's an untouched bowl of something disgustingly green a foot away. I retch when the stench wafts up my nose. It smells like rotten fish. Forget it, there's no way something as vile is going down my throat voluntarily.
Is this where Arie lived for so many years? I can't help but wonder. I have newfound respect for her. This smells like death and decay.
A pair of sturdy footsteps cut through the silence. Someone's coming. I stiffen, preparing to act comatose again and avoid confrontation.
But he stops at my cell door. I wait for the creak for the metal, the door to open, but that never happens. No one enters.
My eyes open a fraction to see this man. But to my surprise, there are two. One – long dirty blond – stands with his back facing me, while the other – dark haired and hawk-nosed – faces me at an angle. A dagger hangs by their sides, the blade sharp and curved like a sawtooth. Their voices are nearly inaudible except for the few words I manage to pick up.
"Yes, tell the master." The man's lips move as he speaks with a Slavic accent. "He is still unconscious."
"Impatient... Hurry." Dirty blond mutters. "No time to waste... Kill."
A shiver runs down my spine at the last word.
"Tonight is the night, Stefan. Do not disappoint."
"Rest assured. Tell the master, it's as good as done."
Blondie makes an angry sound in his throat. "Don't underestimate him. You already let the girl go and got us all in trouble."
"That bitch." He hisses venomously. "She's toast when I catch her again."
Blondie snorts derisively. "Again? Who got her lost her in the first place, dipshit?"
"Won't happen again, Dimitri." Dipshit says gruffly.
Dimitri nods curtly. "Better not." His voice is ice. "This one's an Alpha. I'll be damned if he doesn't put up a hell of a fight. He's feisty."
Dipshit's (Stefanwasit?) eyes glisten maliciously, black as kohl. "Good. I'm counting on it."
They walk away.
I slump back on the floor, defeated. Dammit. My ex-mate thinks I got myself kidnapped. My sister is dating the worst man alive and I can't do anything to stop her. There's no one here who'll help me out. Grayson, my wolfy half, has been M.I.A for over a week now. Most importantly, I desperately want to pee. How am I ever going to find my way out of this?
My mind continues to buzz blankly without a plan. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and wonder what Kiara is doing right now. Is she thinking of me?
Grayson bud, if you're alive now would be a good time to make that grand entrance. If you miss Kiara as much I do, team up with me and to find a way back - even if it means crawling home through the stinky sewers.
⬛⬛⬛
It's late in the afternoon by the time I hear those ominous footsteps again.
The metal clanks loudly as the door swings open revealing two men in uniform. My eyes widen at the sight of them. Is this it? Is this the end? Are they here to burn my body and send my soul to the fiery pits of hell? The Goddess knows I haven't done much good all these years. Is it too much to beg for a few more years to set everything right?
"Get the fuck up, asshole." Dipshit sneers, his harsh voice like a splash of cold water.
I yawn. "Yo man, wassup?"
"Cut the crap. The master wants to see you."
"Dead or alive?" I ask, unfazed.
Dipshit bares his teeth, his hand instantly inching towards his dagger but the other holds him back quickly. "Do I look like I'm joking? I'm fucking serious!"
I bite back a heated retort as he unties my chains. Reaching for his dagger, he points it at me. "Don't try any funny business. One slice and you'll find your head severed off your body."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He doesn't trust me and he's wise not to.
They lead me through a long narrow tunnel, steadily going uphill. Torches blaze every few feet or so, illuminating the otherwise dark and dreary path. Somewhere high above, I hear the sounds of machines working. Every ten minutes or so, it dies down only to restart a minute later.
"What's up there?" I ask.
"None of your damn business." He grunts.
I frown. "Okay. What day is today?"
Radio silence.
"Uh..." I persist, genuinely puzzled. "Did you guys even hear me?"
Dipshit growls menacingly. "It's shut-the-hell-up-or-im-gonna-cut-you day. Happy now?"
Oops. Clearly, someone had bitchflakes for breakfast this morning.
I clap my hands, excited. "Ooooooh, sounds fun! So, tell me is this like an anniversary thing —like does this come once a year — or is it weekly for you guys?"
His cold, killer eyes bore into me, his fingers tightening around his dagger. "It is. Allow me to demonstrate."
His partner coughs warningly, eying the dagger. A knowing look passes between them before they he decides to let go and continue.
Apparently, I'm not annoying enough to be entertained.
Never one to take rejection to heart, I persist. "You need to chill, bro. I'm just trying to make small talk." I say, grinning. "By the way, are you guys like fraternal twins or something? You kinda have the same grouchy personality."
A part of me is actually surprised how easily the pretense comes to me. Almost as though I'm a natural. I should be nominated for the Oscars.
Stefan rolls his eyes in exasperation.
"Just... just shut up, okay? You're a prisoner here. Stop asking questions like we're on a date!"
I huff.
"We're here." Dipshit announces loudly, as he leads us out of the tunnel. I nearly run into his broad, muscular back as I follow him. "Now, we await the Master's call."
I flinch, stepping into the blinding light. Everything is so fucking white and bright, it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the new environment. My captors, however, don't bat an eye.
"It's snowing." I murmur softly once I see the light flakes drift with the breeze and eventually settle on the ground. It's nearly midday. Despite the clouds, it's strange to see the sun still out. "Why is it snowing?"
"It's December." Dipshit snaps. "Fucking Yuletide."
They share another look, positively nauseated.
My eyebrows quirk up in disbelief. They don't like Christmas? Suddenly, I feel sorry for them. Even though as werewolves we never celebrated it, it didn't mean we didn't enjoy it. As kids, Ariana and I made snow-angels in the snow and pestered our parents for gifts.
While the two scrooges are busy grumbling, I survey the land. The exit of the tunnel lies at the foot of a factory. Over ten tall buildings loom in the horizon with eight watch towers. A giant metallic gate obstructs the entrance and a ten feet high concrete wall with barbed wires runs along the perimeter. In the distance, I hear the machines whirring again. People yelling, bossing around, busy as bees. And then a smell I'm accustomed to, wafts up my nose.
Gunpowder. He's manufacturing gunpowder in here. The realisation chills be to my very bones.
A little further beyond to my right, there is a huge white building, shaped like a igloo. No windows, no ventilator, just a small iron wrought door opening into the dome. A laboratory, I make a mental note to myself. I had seen one of these in the ancient maps the Custos had provided us. But it didn't strike me until now how truly huge it is.
Grey probably uses it to manufacture bombs and lethal gases.
"Wasn't your 'Master' the one who called us here?" I turn to my captors before they realise I've been quiet too long. "What kind of master doesn't check his own schedule before he invites people over? Now that's not a very good example of hospitality, is it?"
Dipshit rolls his eyes. "Alpha Aden Carter," he says, his voice thick, "we have two words for you."
I perk up, intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."
"SHUT. UP!"
⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️