Alpha Hole

Ch. 50

Rolling over, I wretched—my face colliding into something hard. My hand flew out instinctively, trying to understand what I had hit. Of course, the metal bars were right in front of me. How could I have forgotten?

I had no idea how long I'd been here or even where here was. Time had blurred into an unending stream of darkness and silence. The gnawing hunger in my belly rose up again, making my stomach roll with nausea.

Days seemed to stretch endlessly in this place. The only constant was the haunting image of Jaxson falling to the ground, playing on a relentless loop in my mind. I willed him to be alive somehow—by some miracle—but deep down, I knew the truth. He was gone.

These bastards could forget about me doing anything to help them further their line or ensure their magic didn't fizzle out. The thought was ridiculous. Surely, they wouldn't think I'd ever cooperate after they had taken everything from me.

They had left me here, in the dark, to rot. I coughed, my head throbbing. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I moved to the opposite side of the cage, which was barely big enough for me to stretch out. I willed myself to fall asleep and stay that way—if only they'd give me some water soon.

A door opened suddenly, and blinding light flooded the small room. My eyes struggled to adjust as three caped figures entered. I recognized Stringy immediately. He was at the top of my list—the list I'd made in my head of people to kill if I ever discovered any mystical powers within myself.

A slightly older man with brown hair, faintly speckled with gray, and a thick beard sat down before me, his eyes settling on mine. I bared my teeth at him, letting my wolf peer out.

His laughter filled the room, twisting my already unsettled stomach.

What I hadn't expected to see was a woman among them. But—those green eyes. I knew her. Biting back the urge to look down, I grabbed for the necklace—only to find it wasn't there.

Stringy was kicking my cage then. I stumbled back, my elbows catching my fall from my crouched position.

"Missing something?" he teased, holding my necklace up against the side of the cage. I lunged for it, only to have him pull it away and click his tongue. "Oh—now we can't have you communicating with the outside world, can we?"

"You are rather important, Layla, or at least your blood is."

"There is nothing special about me," I snarled, channeling all the venom I could muster despite my exhaustion.

The two males looked at each other and burst into laughter. My gaze turned to the female. Hadn't she been the one to warn me? So why wasn't she helping me?

She shook her head slightly, her expression revealing nothing.

Stringy turned to look at her, catching something in my gaze—perhaps the pleading there. "Tandy is the worst of us. Don't think that just because she is a girl she'll have sympathy for you."

The bearded man propped a booted foot on a chair in front of him. "I'm getting too damn old to be taking out entire packs in a single day," he complained.

A hollow opened up in my chest, and tears burned my eyes, but I had cried enough.

"What do you want from me?" I sobbed.

Stringy laughed again. "You are a weepy little thing, aren't you?"

I said it again, louder this time. "What do you want from me?"

His gaze turned serious. "Nothing."

A sound burst from my mouth. "What do you mean nothing?"

"There is absolutely nothing we want from you," he said, his voice turning bored. "But perhaps we will prevent those who have an invested interest in finding you from getting their hands on you."

"Why not just kill me?" I asked, anger flooding forward.

"If only it were that simple." He chuckled.

I thought for a while before speaking again. "So you aren't the Lycanthari, then?"

Laughter erupted from the males.

When they quieted, Stringy pointed at me. "It is so cute how you know nothing of the ancients."

"So you're an ancient?" I challenged.

He rolled his eyes in a mocking gesture. "We are a breed of ancient—known as the nocturnal—or you may have heard us called vampires."

My blood froze at the admission.

He continued. "Since you are so curious, how about a little history lesson?"

Before I could object, he was speaking. "According to the legends of the ancients, Lunaeira and Noxara were once sisters, daughters of a greater cosmic deity. They each took different paths, with Lunaeira embracing the natural world and Noxara delving into the mysteries of the night. Their creations, Lycans and vampires, reflect their respective domains. Luna created the lycans and, in turn, their lessers—the werewolves. While Nox created the creatures of the night—the nocturne." He opened his arms wide, gesturing to himself and his companions.

"And you are the last of the nocturne?" I asked.

Laughter as he tossed his head back. "Oh, it is a pity that we can't just turn you."

I watched as the female stood and moved to grab her bag from the table. She pulled out a small black shopping bag and brought it to me—lowering it through the bars.

Inside, I found a bottle of water and a cheese danish. Part of me wanted to laugh at the audacity of offering a danish, but I twisted the lid on the water and drank nearly half of it in one swallow.

I had to find a way out of this. I had to survive. For Jaxson. For myself. For whatever future might still be possible beyond these metal bars.

And I would live because he had given himself trying to save me.