Mates of a Werewolf Hunter

Chapter 2 Unraveling Souls

Valentine Winters P.O.V

The shock of icy, bitterly cold water jolted me awake, my body trembling uncontrollably as the freezing liquid soaked through my skin. My eyes flew open, only to find myself bound to a chair, my wrists and ankles secured with chains that bit into my flesh. The unmistakable glint of silver sent waves of nausea coursing through me, leaving me feeling weak and disoriented. My once elegant dress, now a tattered mess, clung to me like a sad reminder of the life I once knew.

Two men stood before me, their expressions as cold and unyielding as the chains that held me. Their arms were crossed, their postures rigid, and their faces devoid of any hint of warmth or humanity. I felt a pang of pity for them, and in my mind, I named them "Fell Face" and "Sad Face."

Fell Face noticed my awakening and smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. "She's awake," he declared with a dark satisfaction. "Let's take her to the master." His voice was thick with an unsettling resolve, and I knew they had no intention of letting me go.

I struggled against my restraints as they lifted the chair, but it was useless. My pleas fell on deaf ears, and the cold, empty space only amplified my growing fear. "Let me go!" I cried out, desperation creeping into my voice. "Where are you taking me?" But their silence was as heavy as the silver chains that bound me.

After what felt like an eternity, we stopped in front of a massive door, imposing and unyielding. A small screen flickered to life as Sad Face pressed his thumb and eyes to the biometric sensors, the technology reminding me of something out of a spy movie. The screen flashed green, and the door unlocked with a faint hiss.

The room beyond was an intimidating office, filled with state-of-the-art technology, including five massive screens and a network of cameras that made me feel like I was under constant surveillance. The air was thick with authority and power, suffocating me as Fell Face and Sad Face placed me down and stood at attention, their hands behind their backs like soldiers awaiting orders.

My gaze drifted to the walls, adorned with grotesque paintings depicting the brutal slaughter of wolves—no, not wolves, werewolves. My kind. The sight made my stomach churn, and I quickly looked away, focusing on the figure behind the enormous red desk.

A man sat there, his posture relaxed as he crossed one leg over the other, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back in a way that suggested too much black tea or perhaps an overabundance of self-satisfaction. A smug grin stretched across his face, as if he had just achieved something monumental or stumbled upon a fortune.

"It's rare catching a female wolf," he remarked casually, his voice dripping with condescension. "First time seeing one."

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to mask the fear that threatened to consume me. "What do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice trembling with defiance.

He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Death," he answered simply, the word cutting through the air like a knife. A chill ran down my spine, and I glared at him, but he remained unfazed.

Fell Face's voice broke the tension, his tone deferential. "What do you want us to do with her, sir?"

Before the man could respond, another voice interrupted from my left, smooth and authoritative. "Bring her to my room where I can keep an eye on her."

I turned my head, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him. He was young, probably in his early twenties, with a presence that commanded attention. His black leather jacket clung to his broad shoulders, and the white shirt beneath was partially unbuttoned, revealing a chiseled chest and the hint of an eight-pack. His black jeans fit him like a second skin, emphasizing his towering height and powerful build.