Chapter Four

Wolf 

It’s been three days since they stuck me in this godforsaken cage, and no word yet on my release. I pace up and down, expecting to see someone other than the maid—someone who might tell me what the hell is going on—but nothing. As promised, the maid brings me clean clothes and whatever I need to look decent.

There’s a washbasin in here with a mirror. The moment I look into it and see my reflection, I can’t believe what I see in the person staring back at me. I don’t recognize the man looking back; my beard is long and out of control, my hair is matted and hangs down to my shoulders. My face is still dirt-stricken, even after I washed it at a nearby stream before entering the town of Sitka. I look... unpredictably wild, scary even.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the tangles catch and pull at my scalp. It’s a far cry from the man I used to see in the mirror—a man with purpose, direction, and a life that doesn’t involve spending days locked up like a rabid animal. The person staring back now feels foreign, like a ghost haunting a life I once knew.

I sigh and turn away from the mirror. The maid has come in and out, dropping off food and the occasional change of clothes, but the silence is deafening. I expect to hear from Fenris or Sasha, to have some kind of conversation about what will happen next, but all I get is the endless echo of my own thoughts.

Three days feel like an eternity. My wolf is restless, pacing alongside me, eager to break free from this confinement. I can feel his agitation simmering beneath the surface, a constant reminder of our shared frustration.

The sounds of the pack outside drift through the thin walls—laughter, shouting, the occasional howl. They live their lives without a care, and here I am, trapped behind bars with nothing but my thoughts and the stale air of the cell.

Just as I’m about to resume my pacing, I hear footsteps approaching. This time, they’re heavier, more deliberate. My heart races, the hope of a visitor igniting a spark of anticipation. Maybe it’s Fenris, ready to explain why I’m still locked up. Or perhaps Sasha, looking for a way to plead my case.

The door creaks open, and my breath catches in my throat as a figure steps inside. It’s not Fenris or Sasha—it’s Don, flanked by Bryce. The smirk on his face makes my skin crawl.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” Don drawls, leaning casually against the bars. “You look like you’ve been enjoying your little vacation. How does it feel to be a pet in a cage, Wolf?”

I glare at him, my anger boiling just beneath the surface. “I’m not your pet, Don. I’m a damn prisoner.”

“Call it what you want,” he shrugs. “But you’re here because you messed up. You thought you could waltz into our territory and treat it like your personal buffet. And now look at you.”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of punishment? Because if so, it’s not working,” I shoot back, crossing my arms defiantly.

Don steps closer, leaning into the bars as he lowers his voice. “You don’t know the half of it, Wolf. Fenris doesn’t take kindly to rogues—especially not ones who’ve drawn attention to themselves by growling at his son.”

“Is that what this is about? Your little bruised ego?”

His eyes flash with anger. “This is about respect, Wolf. You don’t get to come into our territory and challenge our authority. You should be grateful that Fenris hasn’t decided to execute you yet.”

“Grateful? For being locked in a cage like an animal?” I scoff.

“Maybe it’s time you learned your place.” Don straightens, the smugness returning to his face. “But I’m not here to just gloat. I wanted to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piquing through my anger. “What could you possibly offer me?”

“If you cooperate, if you play nice with the pack, Fenris might just let you out of here. But you have to make a good impression. Show him you’re not a threat, and maybe we can work something out.”

“And if I refuse?” I challenge.

“Then you can stay in here until Fenris decides you’re no longer worth keeping around.”

I feel the weight of his words settle over me, a shroud of uncertainty. What does “playing nice” even mean? Aligning myself with the very people who have thrown me in here? I don’t trust them. Not Don, not Fenris, not anyone in this pack.

“Think it over, Wolf,” Don says, turning to leave. “Your fate is in your hands. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

As the door creaks shut behind him, I sink back against the wall of the cage, my mind racing. This is a game—a dangerous game. The stakes are high, and I am caught right in the middle of it. Would I really have to play along to survive? The thought churns in my stomach like a heavy stone, a reminder that the path ahead is fraught with uncertainty.

But one thing is clear: I won’t be caged forever. The wildness inside me is still alive and well, waiting for its chance to break free. And when that moment comes, I won’t be the one backing down.

Standing under the shower nozzle, completely naked, I look up, feeling the warmth of the water wash over me. I’ve never had a hot shower before. At first, I narrow my eyes suspiciously, but curiosity wins out, and I crank the tap to hot.

The initial blast of cold hits me like ice, but I don’t flinch. I’m too familiar with that bite. When the water warms, my body tenses. Steam rolls around me, and euphoria crashes over my senses. I feel myself harden. Fuck.

The water continues to heat up, and instead of backing away, I embrace the blistering sting that sends ripples of pleasure through my muscles. I close my eyes, letting out a low growl, as the tension in my body begins to fade. This is heaven—a far cry from the icy rivers I’ve endured. Each droplet feels like a gift, and I lean into the heat, allowing it to consume me.

In this moment of solitude, my mind wanders. Images of the wild flash behind my closed eyelids—dark forests, the chill of the night air, the thrill of the hunt. But then, like a beacon cutting through the fog, Sasha’s face appears. The way her eyes spark with defiance and vulnerability makes my pulse quicken. I can’t shake the memory of her wild hair framing her face, the determination in her stance, and the way her lips curve just slightly when she thinks no one’s watching.

As the water pours over me, a gnawing feeling settles in my gut—the uncertainty of what’s to come. They’ve got me trapped here, but why? What do they want from me? The more I think about it, the more my wolf stirs inside, restless and agitated. This cage, despite its comforts, feels like a prison. He craves the wild, the hunt, the freedom to roam. I take a deep breath, focusing on the heat of the water, trying to drown out my worries, even if only for a moment.

But as I scrub away the dirt, I also wash away the essence of who I am—who I was before this. The longer I linger under the spray, the more I realize that my body may be here, but my mind is still out there, battling against the invisible chains that bind me.

With every passing second, thoughts of Sasha consume me more. I can’t help but picture her face, the way her lips would part in surprise or laughter. I imagine the warmth of her body next to mine, the way her skin would feel against my rough hands. A deep growl builds in my chest, mingling with the steam and the water as my thoughts spiral deeper into fantasy. I’m lost in the moment, the heat of the water amplifying the desire swirling within me.

My hand slips lower, instinctively gripping my thick girth as I think of her. Her defiance ignites something primal in me, a need to claim and protect, to draw her close and make her feel what I feel. I stroke slowly, relishing the sensation, allowing the warmth of the water to heighten every touch. I’m consumed by the image of her—the way she looks at me with both challenge and intrigue.

With each stroke, I lose myself in the thought of her, the fantasy intensifying as I imagine her reactions, her breath hitching as I draw closer, my lips brushing against hers. The moment stretches, and as her face fills my mind, I can’t help but let go. I shoot my load against the tiles, a low growl escaping me as the release sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. It’s euphoric, my heart racing and skin tingling.

Fuck, did I just do that?

I haven’t been with a woman since Mason two years ago—a relationship I’m glad I escaped, keeping my dignity intact.

As the last remnants of my high fade, I realize how mind-blowing it is to have hot water running down my body. I feel slightly lightheaded, the unfamiliar sensations flooding my senses.

Finally, I turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and into the steam-filled room. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; the man staring back feels foreign. I’m a creature caught between two worlds—one that wants to cage me and another that calls me back to the wild.

I towel off, preparing to face whatever comes next. The cage may have sheltered me, but I can’t forget it’s still a cage. I might be clean and warm for now, but the wild part of me is ready to break free.

Clothes are left for me in a basket at the gate, which I notice as I step out of the shower, towel wrapped around my waist. The maid can’t come in, fearing I’d overpower her and escape. Would I do that if given the chance? Hell yes—I want out of here.

As I rummage through the basket of neutral-colored clothes, I’m surprised they got my sizes right; everything fits perfectly, not tight or awkward like the rags I’ve been wearing.

I pull on some loose shorts, a simple T-shirt, and a hooded jacket. They even left a pair of sneakers that fit me just right. Standing fully clothed, I lift the collar of the hoodie to my nose, breathing in deeply. A fresh pine scent hits me, and damn, it smells incredible.

As my eye catches the bed I’ve been expected to sleep in these past few nights, I smirk. Sleeping, however, has been a challenge. The single bed feels better suited for a child than a grown-ass man like me. But I shouldn’t complain; it’s a prison cell, not a hotel. I’m used to crashing on the cold, hard floor of abandoned buildings or the forest floor, so this is an upgrade, even if my legs hang off the edge if I stretch out completely. Still, I shouldn’t be in here for much longer, right?

I’ve taken the opportunity to cut my hair shorter and shave my beard. It feels strangely satisfying as I run my hands over my smoothly shaven face. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I blink, momentarily stunned by the stranger staring back at me. If it weren’t for my distinctive hazel eyes, I’d almost think I was looking at someone else entirely. The transformation is striking; I look like me, the real me, and that thought sends a shiver down my spine.

As I finish adjusting my clothes, I take one last look in the mirror, assessing this new version of myself. A glimmer of hope sparks in my chest; maybe there’s a chance to escape this life, to step back into the wild and reclaim my freedom. But for now, I need to play it smart. I’ve been given a lifeline, however tenuous, and I can’t afford to waste it.

With a determined nod to my reflection, I turn away from the mirror and face the door. Whatever happens next, I won’t go down without a fight. The wild man inside me might be tamed, but he’s still lurking, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Once I finish the plate of food the maid brought me—roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and peas—I wash it down with a large glass of water, feeling a deep satisfaction I haven’t experienced in a long time. 

But as I sit back, that itchy feeling creeps in, gnawing at my sanity. I’m a lone wolf, not used to being confined; it feels more like suffocation than care. 

I sit hunched over my knees on the floor, resting my forehead against my folded arms, trying to stay calm and channel my anxieties. I’ve learned to do this since I was small, but today it feels like a futile exercise.

A memory suddenly flashes through my mind: a younger version of myself, probably three or four years old. I’m huddled against the corpse of a deer I’ve just managed to kill all by myself. The fur is soft, its body still warm. Even as hunger gnaws at my belly, I crave comfort more than nourishment, nestling against its warm fur. I remember laying there until its warmth fades, the world around me feeling impossibly empty. I remember crying, feeling all alone, and only then do I pull myself away to tear open its stomach and eat the meat it provided.

That memory shouldn’t be resurfacing now; it’s one I haven’t relived in years. The discomfort rises, my body tensing, and I feel a strange ache in my chest I can’t quite explain. The sensation weighs heavy, pulling me deeper into thoughts I’ve long buried. Why does this haunt me now, when I’m so close to breaking free? The wild man inside me stirs restlessly, echoing the loneliness that has followed me for too long.

I sense her the moment she steps into the room; an electric charge courses through the air, making my skin prickle. My eyes snap up, locking onto hers through the cold metal bars. My wolf stirs, his instincts piqued, longing to bridge the distance between us, but I narrow my eyes, fighting against the urge. She’s the reason I’m stuck in this mess in the first place.

“Hey,” she says, her voice small, almost fragile. “You look—different after a shower, with shorter hair and no beard.”

I stand there, silently scrutinizing her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.

“I would have come to see you sooner,” she continues, her gaze flitting nervously away from mine.

“Took you long enough,” I growl, the words escaping with more venom than I intended.

“I deserve that,” she replies, her voice steady, though I can see the hurt beneath her calm facade.

“What do you want, Sasha? Or is it Sam?” I can’t help the edge in my tone as I press her for answers.

She lowers her eyes, the weight of my words hanging heavy between us. “I’m sorry you’re in there.”

“Are you?” I challenge, my voice low and rough. She looks up, her emerald eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Of course I am. I never wanted any of this,” she insists, sincerity threading through her words.

My wolf stirs again, responding to her vulnerability like a fucking puppy. It infuriates me. I force him back, determined to maintain control.

“I just want to get the hell out of this cage and as far away from here as possible,” I say, my voice a low rumble, the tension coiling tightly in my chest.

“I understand,” she replies softly, the regret in her eyes cutting deeper than I expected. “My dad said tomorrow he’ll see you. I spoke with him and—”

“And it took three days. Isn’t that something?” I interrupt, bitterness lacing my words. Three days trapped in this hell, and she decides to show up now?

Silence stretches between us, charged and fraught with unsaid emotions. I can feel my wolf howling in frustration, wanting to bridge the gap, wanting to comfort her. But all I can think about is the cage I’m in, both physically and emotionally.

“Have you been treated well? I threatened Sylvia’s life if she didn’t care for you properly.”

Her question jolts me from my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

“Who’s Sylvia?”

“She’s the one attending to you, bringing fresh linens and clothes…”

There it is again—her wolf making its presence known as her irises shimmer with gold, trailing down my body like a caress.

“Well, if you consider being locked in a cell for three days as being treated well, then we clearly have differing views on what that entails.”

A smirk flickers across her lips, a mischievous grin that fails to reach her eyes. I can sense there’s something unspoken lingering in the air.

“My father likes to take precautions; he’s not cruel, just overly protective of his own.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a lone wolf. I’m not used to confinement or the rules of packs.”

Her eyes narrow as she ponders that for a moment. “You can’t remember where you come from, can you?”

Scoffing, I shake my head, a deep huff escaping my lips. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you can’t recall your origins?” Her eyes brim with curiosity, as if she’s trying to pry into the depths of my soul.

“Not as much as it seems to bother you,” I reply, my tone sharper than intended.

“So, your parents, potential brothers or sisters… You can’t remember any of them?”

I smirk, the corner of my mouth twisting in a sardonic grin as I reflect on the emptiness of my past. “I was just two years old, maybe even younger, when I had to start fending for myself. So, to answer your question—no. I can’t remember a family or what it’s like to belong to a pack.”

Her lips thin into a line, sympathy flickering in her gaze. “I’m sorry, Wolf.”

“Don’t be,” I reply, my voice gravelly. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.”

“But don’t you want to find out?” she asks, her eyes searching mine with a fervor that unnerves me. “Wouldn’t you like to know what happened to your real family?”

For a moment, her sincerity catches me off guard. I want to snap back, to tell her that family means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Yet her question gnaws at me, its weight heavy and unyielding.

“Maybe,” I finally admit, my voice low and tinged with uncertainty. “But what difference does it make? I’ve survived this long without knowing. I’ve learned to navigate this world on my own.”

“Survival isn’t the same as belonging,” she counters gently, her voice a soft reminder of what I’ve long suppressed.

“Belonging is a luxury I can’t afford,” I retort, but the words sound hollow, even to my own ears.

She steps closer, the warmth emanating from her almost magnetic. “You don’t have to keep fighting against that. You can find a place here, Wolf. You’re not alone anymore.”

Frustration and something deeper swirl within me. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I want to,” she insists, determination unwavering in her gaze. “You’re not just a rogue anymore. You’re part of something bigger than yourself.”

“Part of what?” I scoff, though a hint of curiosity tinges my voice. “This cage? The rules that come with it?”

“Not just the cage, but the pack. My family,” she replies, her eyes steady and inviting. “We can help you, but you have to let us in.”

I avert my gaze, her words hanging heavy in the air. Can I truly allow myself to trust again? To hope for something more? The thought is intoxicating yet terrifying, a delicate thread of possibility woven through the fabric of my existence.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I finally whisper, vulnerability creeping into my tone.

“Just think about it,” she says softly, her voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “You don’t have to decide right now. Remember, family doesn’t always mean blood. Sometimes it’s those who choose to stand by you, no matter what.”

As her words linger in the air, I feel the walls closing in around me. “We’re not the same, princess. I’m a rogue, and you’re alpha blood. It would never work.” Even as I say it, an ache wells up behind my chest, an unwelcome reminder of what could have been.

“Is that really how you feel?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s how I have to feel. We can’t change what is,” I reply, though doubt lingers in my mind.

“So that’s it? If my father gives the go-ahead, you’d just leave?”

I slowly nod, each movement feeling like a betrayal, even though I don’t want it to be this way. “It’s the way it has to be.”

She swallows hard and lowers her eyes, the weight of our reality settling between us. “Well, I guess there’s not much more to say then.” A shadow of sadness crosses her features as she turns to walk away.

My wolf surges at the sight of her retreat, and I can’t let her go without saying something. “Maybe in a different life,” I call out, my voice firm yet laced with longing.

She freezes, the tension in the air palpable. “Maybe even in this one,” I add, the words escaping before I can rein them in.

And then she leaves, the door closing softly behind her, leaving me in the suffocating silence of my cell.