Chapter 4

It was dark and I was running again. Running through the forest with its sharp branches and stones and unforgiving cold. Someone was calling my name, over and over, singing it like a song. The further away I got, the louder it became and the singing turned into screaming into screeching. 

With my lungs heaving and sweat trickling from my forehead, I turned to try to see just what was following me. But that was a mistake. I lost my footing on something, maybe a stone or an exposed root, but I started tumbling. I waited for the blow of the ground, preparing myself for the pain and to get up again, but nothing came. It was like I was thrown into an endless void of darkness. Was I standing up? Was I upside down? Was I awake? Was I dead? The screeching got louder.

“Elise!”

The voice was familiar, so familiar that it hurt my heart to listen to it, my mother's voice calling for me.

“Elise come home!” 

“Moth-”

My call to her was cut off and my father suddenly appeared before me. His body was slashed like paper, red slices marring his face and silver burns etched into his skin. His eyes were white and dull but still able to glare, his head lolled to one side and his pale skin was now grey and cold. His hand shot to my throat, holding me in place as his grip tightened with every second.

‘This is your fault.’ He growled, choking the air from my body as he lifted me off my feet. I was kicking and thrashing, trying to get free but not wanting to hurt him. Desperately, I clawed at his hands, trying to pry them off of my neck, but my mother was still wailing somewhere in that darkness, and despite the glare my father had bloodied tears running down his ruined cheeks.

“Why did you have to be born?”

He let go, and I was falling. The scars lining my shoulder blade began to sting the more I fell, as if they were new, drawing pain along my body. I couldn’t remember when they were made or how, but they had never stung like this, almost as if in warning of the pit I was falling into

“You weren’t a gift!”

“Elise!”

“You’re a curse!”

“ELISE!”

The darkness became suffocating, an ocean trying to drown me. The shadows invaded my body and pulled me down, deeper and deeper and deeper. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel but the dull building of pressure and invasion. My father’s words were muffled by this darkness, “a curse.”

I gasped for breath, clawing at my throat as I woke up. My body shook so viciously that I almost fell from the small cot I had been placed on. It felt so real, my father’s hands around my neck, my mother’s screaming in my head. My hand reached to touch the three scars that lined my shoulder, making sure that they were still there and that they didn’t hurt anymore. They were bumpy and mimicked claw marks, but my parents never told me how they came to be. Now they never would.

Taking a deep breath, I took in my surroundings: Dark grey stone, a dingy damp smell mixed with the scent of silver and the small cot I had woken up on. No windows, just a small light built into the ceiling. This was a pack dungeon and not one that was designed to be merciful to its captives. Icy cold metal enveloped my wrists, the dark cuffs lined with silver and I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe I was too shaken from the dream. 

I had seen these bindings before when I visited my father during his imprisonment. The silver weakened the wolf inside, rendering the person practically human, no one could shift whilst wearing these cuffs and they were too heavy to break free from. If a wolf tried to get free of them, the silver was likely to burn them. They were designed to keep a prisoner weak, still and hopeless.

A shaky breath escaped from me and some small kind of relief tingled through my body, “thank the goddess,” I mumbled to myself, sending a small prayer to her. They didn’t know.

The bars and door were also lined with silver as an extra precaution just in case perhaps a wolf might somehow manage to break free. The second they’d place a hand on the wooden door or the silver-lined iron bars, they would be scorched. And a silver burn wasn’t easy to heal… Not at all.

I focused on my body, noticing the wounds from my late-night run should’ve been hurting more. Pulling at my trousers I furrowed my eyes in confusion as I saw my calf, bound with a bandage and salve that smelled like pine. The bruises on my torso were lighter than they should’ve been but my palms were clean and looked like they had never been torn apart in the first place. But why? Why would the alpha keep me healthy, or at the very least alive? It made me shudder to think what he wanted in return. Alpha Fredrick never did anything for free, and he especially never helped anyone with just the kindness of his heart. I couldn’t let my guard down. 

Keys rattled and I felt myself sit up straight, glaring at the entrance, daring someone to come in.  Alpha Jackson strode in, dipping under the doorway, no kindness in his eyes or posture. He stood tall and imposing, watching me like a predator waiting for its prey to make a move.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t-

I looked towards the now open cell, wondering what my chances could be if I dashed towards it. Alpha Jackson was intimidating and strong, but perhaps I could be faster. His lip twitched in the only form of amusement he would allow as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Try it and find out, his smirk seemed to goad.

Lurching forward, I ducked around him, maybe I’d caught him by surprise, maybe he wasn’t expecting me to take the chance and run, but I had to at least try. I was inches away from the hinge of the door when I slammed into a body that immediately grabbed my arms to hold me still. I groaned and if I didn’t know any better I would’ve sworn I heard laughter from the alpha behind me.

“Worth a shot,” I mumbled begrudgingly as I was pushed back to the cot in my cell.