Second book
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Marcos Rivera is the Alpha of the New Moon Pack. When his former pack was almost wiped out by a surprised rogue attack orchestrated by his uncle, he decided to move with his Beta Javier Vega and what was left o...
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AN: It tooked me a week to write this chapter; the internet has been slower than ever. So unless there is a significant mistake, I won't fix it. It's not now, maybe one of these days. Who knows?
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I looked around, my eyes straining in the dim light, searching for a way out.
Escape was my only option, my sole mission.
My mate, my brother, my pack-they were my anchor, my reason to fight.
The thought of them filled me with a desperate determination.
I wouldn't give up.
I couldn't.
The room was a stark, grim space devoid of warmth or comfort. The walls are cold and impersonal. A single, barred window provided the only source of natural light, casting a weak, pallid glow that did little to dispel the oppressive gloom.
The air was stale and damp, heavy with the scent of mildew and the faint, underlying stench of fear. With its unyielding iron bars, the cage door was a constant reminder of the freedom that lay tantalizingly out of reach.
It was a sensory onslaught. The stench of neglect now corrupted the sterile smell of antiseptic.
Beneath the antiseptic were other, more disturbing smells—the acrid tang of blood, the sickly sweet scent of decay, and the pungent odor of fear.
The metallic tang of rusted medical instruments, the dampness of decay, and the unmistakable odor of fear and despair.
A smell lingered, a stark reminder of the grim reality within these walls.
The sharp, medicinal smell of drugs and treatments was tainted with the unmistakable odor of decay and neglect.
All this made me feel on edge.
Every bone in my body screamed in protest, yet the urge to flee was overwhelming. I had to return to my Alpha, to my brother. They must have been feeling desperate, their minds filled with uncertainty about my whereabouts and the identity of my abductor.
I had a hunch about the culprit, and the mere thought of him filled me with dread.
Distant howls pierced the silence, a symphony of despair, while the stifled sobs of fellow prisoners echoed like ghosts.
My hand gravitated to my belly, caressing the tender shield over my unborn pups. Dread was my shadow, stalking the essence of my being, threatening the innocents within me.
A cry of agony almost escaped as I shifted, but I bit it back.
Weakness was a luxury I couldn't afford.
"Star, are you there?" I called out, seeking solace in our mental link. The fear that they had silenced my wolf, mirroring the atrocities of the woman who bore me, was suffocating.
