Argent's Wolf [NaNoWriMo 2020]

Chapter 1

Writers note: This is tagged as mxm as I am an mxm writer. I have no romantic relationships planned in this. Milo and Ross will not have a romantic relationship. This is not an age-gap story. (Milo is 17, and Ross is 44. Just no)

Are you still interested? Enjoy.

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The worst of the world came from humans. Paranormals did some messed up things in the name of tradition, culture and instincts, but everyday humans had the potential to be far more dangerous and sinister. Not even hunters, people completely unconnected to the paranormal could do terribly awful things. In Arfed, his dad protected Milo. In Grasmere, his team protected him. 

Right now, no one did. 

The traffickers grabbed him when he collapsed from exhaustion. After that, they'd kept him too drugged up to know which way was up, forget escaping. There was no chance of anyone who wanted to protect him being in whatever sludge-dredged city now had him. Death would be kinder. He should have listened to his friends. 

Milo's head ached as sounds grated against his inner skull and light pierced through his eyes. The traffickers' drugs wore off, leaving him weak and trapped as a wolf. They'd forced him to shift. Or maybe his body did to try to recover from everything Milo made it endure over the last few months. 

If he was stronger, people wouldn't die around him. If he was stronger, the traffickers wouldn't have captured him in the first place.

His legs refused to stand. His vision was a blur any time he got them to open. Assess the situation. His dad taught him what to do when captured by enemies, or at the very least, people who wanted to do him harm. Assess the situation and learn their intent. 

The latter was easy: they wanted to sell him. 

The cage hummed around him, a sensation similar to heat pulsed from the bars. The cramped cage threatened to burn Milo with silver if he moved. Or burn him more. Silver crackled everywhere, against his fur and between his teeth. They'd forced a bit while putting a muzzle on him, the buckles sizzling against his fur. It added the claustrophobia of it all. The weight of silver pulled on his sense and span around him with the echoing laughter.

His mind turned into a swamp, and thoughts were barely able to bubble up through the sludge before being swallowed again. Lights, pain and cruel voices echoed in his ears. Too loud taunts ran through his fur and sent electricity down his spine. The words were meaningless, but the tone sliced through his nerves. Did they know who he was? Certainly what he was. 

His paws alternated between blissful numbness and raging fire. They'd nailed his paws to the bottom of the cage to stop him from curling up and hiding. Humans got to hide and cower away, not animals like him. His heart hammered against his ribs. 

This wasn't hunters. Hunters sometimes took wolves to hurt them. Hunters - good hunters - killed their prey mercifully as they knew how to. Bad hunters wanted their victims to suffer, cry for pointless mercy, and live long enough to have lost all humanity and go feral before putting them down. No one recovered from going feral. It lingered at the edges of someone's senses until they lost control again and again, until even their lucid times couldn't make up for the damage they did. Even those types didn't sell their victims.

The first jolt of movement made flashes of white in his vision. He gnashed his teeth as they wheeled him somewhere. He was unable to bite down, but his body instinctively tried to move away from the source of the pain.  Keeping track of his settings began impossible.

He wanted his Dad. He could almost hear the scolding, how he shouldn't have left the safety of the Pack, and the prize for disobeying would be his life and sanity. Leonard would be so angry with him for this. He'd endure that if it meant the Pack bursting through the door and saving him. He'd behave. He'd stay with the Pack until he was an adult. Please?