Chapter 4: Into the Den

The rumble of the SUV faded, replaced by the thud of boot on gravel as Zane dragged Evan through the compound gates. The air reeked with wolf musk and iron, the spread of stone buildings blackening like a prison against the gray sky. Training grounds ran off to the left, wolves yapping with fangs and curses, and steam rose from chimneys to the right, where cabins clustered like nervous animals. Evan's heart pounded, his burlap bag borne by Zane over his shoulder as a trophy. He pulled, trying to wriggle free and check whether Zane would release him, but the alpha's grip was a vice on his arm.

"Walk," Zane growled, nudging Evan toward the huge stone house in the middle of the compound. Amber glowed through its windows, and the wolf-shaped stone double doors groaned open as they entered. Leo led the way, his leather jacket whipping around him, his silence more ominous than Zane's growls. Evan's boots complained, dragging one after the other, but the mate bond, a warm, sick thrum in his chest, forced him to come after them, no matter how he railed against it.

The air in the house was cedar and blood. The front doorway was ringed with fur and arms. Zane pushed Evan up a creaking staircase and into a bobbing-lantern-lit hallway. At the other end, creaking door led into an empty room—stone walls, narrow bed, single barred window. Zane dropped Evan's sack onto the floor, the coins inside jingling softly. "Your cage, princess," he taunted, his golden eyes flashing with something blacker—possession, or hunger.

"Fuck you," Evan growled, going for the sack. Leo wrapped his wrist around his own, fingers cold and unyielding, stopping Evan in his tracks.

"Don't," Leo told him, his voice a knife. "You'll get it back when you're good." He released Evan and pulled away, pulling Zane with him. The door shut and clicked into place.

Evan stood, fists clenched, breathing harsh. The room was a trap, and he wasn't done. He paced, memorizing every square inch. The bed frame was anchored, the mattress old and filthy. Bars held the window, glass too thick to break. Claw marks marred the walls, deep and serrated, as if something or someone had clawed their way out. Evan traced one with his fingers, his tingling. There was a wild, foreign smell on the air, something that stirred something in his chest. His wolf, never likely to awaken, seemed to stir, a ghostly presence in his blood. He brushed it off, unsettled, and went on.

He arrived at a splintered tip of bone on the end of the cot, pointed on one side, broken fang. He pushed it to the bend of his palm, and the tip nipped just so, a strand of blood welling up. A weapon, crude but his. He shoved it into his pocket, a tiny rebellion against the ownership of the alphas. The bond buzzed, wicked heat, and he growled under his breath. He was not theirs—not now, ever.

Voices came through the door—Zane's snarl, low and angry, Leo's cold voice. Evan set his ear on the wood, hearing fragments.

".break him, Leo. He's too damn stubborn," Zane snarled at him, his voice thick with rage.

"Force will break him," Leo replied, his voice cold as ice. "Command his mind, and his body will follow. We require him loyal, not cowed."

"Need him?" Zane laughed. "I want him. That's all."

Evan's stomach knotted, anger and something he would not name—something he would not permit—gushing tight. He stepped back, struggling against the hold of the bond. They could seethe all they wanted; he'd be gone before they could decide what to put him in.

A knock at the door a few hours later. A wolf-bear with a checkered cheek, grunting, "Supper.". Move. Evan trailed him back, the fragment of bone hidden weight in his pocket, down into the crowded dining hall of the wolves. The long tables groaned under platters of roasted meat and bread, grease and words thick in the air. Greetings turned on Evan's approach, whispers susurrating like grass in the wind. "Scentless," someone breathed. "Omega," the other spat out the word, with contempt.

Zane and Leo dominated the head table, a gnarled oak surface elevated above the rest. Zane lay back, shredding a drumstick, his open leather vest showing the scarred chest. Leo sat stiffly, slicing his meat with a surgeon's delicacy, his silver eyes scanning the room. The wolf with the scars nudged Evan in their direction, and Zane overturned a chair. “Sit, mate,” he said, loud enough for the hall to hear. The word landed like a stone, silencing the chatter.

Evan froze, his face burning under the pack’s stares. Mate. The lie of it choked him, but the bond pulsed, urging him closer. He sat, gripping the chair’s edge, his glare fixed on the table. Leo leaned forward, voice low. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

"Plaything of yours," Evan snarled, but he tore open a roll to scoop into his palms. The pack continued eating, however strained the air was, glancing over bites of food. A woman stood up at one table, black braid streaming, drawing attention. Selene, Evan surmised, by the stiffening behind her. Her amber eyes lashed at him, unyielding and unforgiving.

“This is the omega?” she said, her voice carrying. “A scentless runt, weakening our alphas’ rule? He’s a liability, Zane. Send him back to whatever hole he crawled from.”

The hall went quiet, forks pausing mid-air. Zane’s hand tightened on his drumstick, knuckles white. “Watch your tongue, Selene,” he growled, standing. “He’s ours. Challenge that, and you’ll bleed.”

Selene's lip twisted, but she sat, her glower fixed on Evan. Leo remained silent, his knife reflecting in the dim light as he reached for meat again, but Evan noticed the flicker of tension in the jaw. The bond vibrated once more, Zane's smell—smoke and cedar—bloating Evan's head as the alpha passed to claim his plate. Evan forced it down, focusing on the roll in his palm, now destroyed to fragments.

Shadow glided along the other end of the hallway—Milo, walking between the wolves with a tray on the back of his hand that had a pile of mugs on it. Evan's gaze caught his, fast and cold, and he placed a crumpled sheet of paper on the table as he walked past. Evan snatched it, racing pulse, and shoved it inside his sleeve. No one noticed, the pack too busy eating and Selene's seething rage. Evan stuffed bread into his mouth, stale and tasteless, considering the note.

In his own bedchamber, barred for the night, Evan unfolded the paper flat in the soft light of the lantern. South wall, midnight. Trust me. Milo's handwriting was clumsy but legible. Evan's heart thudded with hope—escape, maybe, or a snare. He burned the note on the lantern flame, ashes spilling onto the ground. The hunk of bone cut into his thigh, reminding him that he wasn't beaten. He'd go to Milo, hear him out. If it was an escape, he'd do it.

Midnight arrived and passed without incident, composite noises resolving into crickets and distant howls. Evan jammed the bone clod in his boot and opened the door slowly. The hallway extended away from him, dark, the scarred wolf disappeared. He moved silently, circling around the shadow, down stairs and out the rear door into cold. The wall of south leaned at the boundary of the compound, stone wall and spikelike iron. Evan leapt behind crates, glancing upward for movement.