Trinity (A Werewolf Novel) ✔

Chapter Two

          

With my sight taken from me and hands tied behind me there was no chance of finding calm or peace in my time of terror and ultimate doom. I breathed heavily, my wrists aching from trying to get out of my bindings. I blindly shifted my head side to side occasionally as though I could catch a glimpse of my surroundings. My only relief was the feel of my blade resting against the strap around my leg, hidden under my dress. My fear was that during this Wolf Moon hunt, I would be hunted with my hands tied and blinded.

When we arrived, or so I assumed, I was pushed across a tricky surface which aimed to catch my feet on rocks and roots. I fell two times before strong arms lifted me from the ground and slung me none-too-gently over their shoulder. The position wasn't comfortable, but I could only manage small, fearful cries in response.

I considered ways to plead for my life, but knew already it was pointless. These were creatures of godlike magnitude. They were worshipped; feared, but considered deities. Being chosen as a sacrifice was something like an honor, though a painful and forced one. And all sacrifices never came back. Never.

Werewolves weren't merciful creatures.

I yelped as I was dropped roughly onto the ground. I immediately tried to straighten myself, keeping my knife covered and reaching for the ground with my hands to try to discern where I was. The floor was stone, so I was inside somewhere. When I shuffled away, my back hit a wall solidly.

"She smells... wild," A female voice stated without emotion.

"Apparently, she pissed off Alpha Roman," A man responded simply. "They put up a fight this time, though. Had to drop a few humans before leaving."

"At least she's not a crier. Those are so annoying," the woman stated, but I was still stuck on the previous statement. Drop a few humans? Did he mean someone died in the attack? It was something I should have expected, considering how lowly lycans thought of us, but the pain of knowing some of my family and friends were now dead because of me caused sudden and immense grief.

I tightened my thighs together and frowned deeply, but I didn't allow the tears to fall from my eyes. When there was no more talking, I hesitated. I waited, listening for any sounds of lycans nearby. Not even the sound of shuffling feet came to me.

I immediately began scooting along the wall behind me, feeling the texture and the floor for any protruding objects. After touching along the corner of the wall, my hand pricked against something, causing me to wince at the sudden pain of a minor cut. I flexed my hands apart as much as I could and began scrapping it against the sharp object repeatedly.

I did this for the longest time. Every noise made me stop in fear of being caught. When the fabric finally tore away, I had to restrain myself from crying out with momentary joy. I immediately reached for the cloth blinding me and pulled it from my face.

My eyes took a moment to adjust, taking in the sight of a small and worn detainment cell. There were no windows and only a single, barred door. I had no idea of determining what time it was, but it had to be well into the day if not nearly the evening by now. And once the sun rested on the horizon, the Wolf Moon would shine and the hunt would commence.

I skated along the walls of my cell, touching every inch of it as though I could find some sort of crack and manage to escape through it. Only after I tried unlocking or breaking the door, and attempting to dig through the floor, did I finally crawl to the corner of the cell and resolve to the initial idea of fighting to the death.

I stayed perched in the corner, crouching in preparation for a quick attack. My hand had the fabric of my dress raised and was rested over the hilt of my knife determinedly. When it felt like days had passed, the sound of footsteps finally greeted me. I tightened my grip on the hilt, my breath coming short in panic.