Caught In A Web

Camille's POV

I tugged at the cuffs on my legs, but they refused to budge. My clothes were drenched in sweat and blood, and the cut at the corner of my mouth was beginning to heal—skin upon skin. My hair, unevenly scattered across my forehead and the side of my face, brushed against my skin, mixing with my blood.

Its fingers pressed into my cheeks, delving deep and moving slowly down as blood traced the line etched on my face. It smirked slightly, and with a quick flick of its hand, it latched onto the cut, eliciting a sharp groan from my lips.

"Hello, mate." Its voice roared like the sound of tempestuous seas. It was ancient—primal and formidable.

I sucked in my teeth and spat out the blood pooling in my mouth. My bruised lips quivered slightly. "Let me go," I managed to say, my voice cracking under the weight of fear and pain.

The healing was agonizingly slow. I needed to tap into my form to shift, but I required the sore mark to heal—and quickly.

"You've always belonged to me and will always belong to me," it growled before slashing its claws across my chest, causing the mark to bleed further.

"I WILL NOT SHARE!"

Its fangs grazed the area surrounding the mark.

"Please," I pleaded.

Then it sank in, draining the life from me. It was solidifying its control.

A loud wail escaped my lips as my eyes shot open. I felt moisture gathering there and wiped at it—sweat mingled with tears.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead in a disheveled manner, I remembered that the last time I had a nightmare was three years ago, following the death of Grandma Noa.

Father had attributed it to childish sentimentality, believing I was too emotional—too weak and too attached to her because I had been her favorite. But the dreams had nothing to do with her.

This dream was different; it felt real, like an encroaching darkness that could consume my soul. It was a shadow lurking within the recesses of my mind, while my heart continued to pound in my chest.

Then the color of the bed caught my attention—it wasn't mine. I scanned the room, and nothing appeared familiar.

Last night! It had really happened. The rogue. The black wolf. I raked my fingers through my hair in agitation, flooded with paranoia at the careless mistakes I had made that had led me into this predicament.

I wondered if it was the reluctance of my body, the remnants of the nightmare, the sunlight filtering in through the window, or the noxious smell of moringa and garlic that made me nauseous and infuriated me the most. My left hand bore a bandage, as did my thigh. I didn't touch it; it felt like a foreign invader occupying my space.

I loathed how weak I must have looked last night. I could envision Father's disappointment had he witnessed it. I wanted to smack the back of my head, but I feared that the throbbing headache would worsen my sanity, so I refrained.

I sat up straight in bed, with languid springs creaking beneath my weight. The lock on the door turned, clicked, and turned again. I wanted to quickly tuck my legs beneath me, but the sharp pain in my thighs—the injury from the rogue—forced me to keep my legs extended as the door opened, its old, creaky hinges releasing a slow groan that grated on my ears.

I hadn't seen her last night, but I was certain she was one of them.

"Good morning," she said, displaying a perfect set of white teeth behind thin lips painted with red matte lipstick.

"Good morning," I replied, my expression taut.

"I'm Doctor Skyla," she stated, perching half her body on the worn table beside the door.

"Why am I here?" I shot her a puzzled look, clearly unprepared for a lengthy explanation or her introduction.

She returned my gaze with a look that indicated she had anticipated a different question but pursed her lips before saying, "You crossed into our border last night."

She paused, tapping something on the screen in her hand. "Some members of the pack patrol spotted you," she continued in the same lively tone with which she had entered.

"Your border?" I scoffed, annoyed by the surprise evident in my own voice.

"Yes," her eyes softened but remained alert.

"That wasn't intentional. Can I go now?" I asked, glancing toward the door.

"No. Not yet." She seemed wistful for a moment. "Do you remember the rogue that attacked you?" she queried.

How could I forget when it had left an unmistakable mark it had left on my thigh? Her question irritated me.

"Yes," I affirmed, my tone sharper than I intended.

Her fingers danced over the screen once more before she locked eyes with me. "We suspect you might have some connection to it because the patrol team claimed it had trailed…"

"What the raving f*** do you mean?" I interrupted, my temper flaring.

"How could you even think that when it clearly sliced through my skin?" I exclaimed, gesturing toward my thighs.

"You're not listening," her voice was calm yet firm.

"No, you're not the one listening!" I shrieked. "The insane creature had nothing to do with me! It attacked me and was going to kill me." I despised over-explaining, yet that's exactly what I was doing.

Mother hated that aspect of me. The small talk. She loathed that I preferred silence and solitude over mingling with the other girls in the pack.

To make matters worse, she had labeled me a sadistic recluse for declining to socialize with Leonora and her henchmen—the arrogant brat from Norray Ver's pack and daughter of Neah Rosemound, Mother's best friend. Birds of a feather, they truly were.

Talking was draining. I wanted to observe, explore, and prepare for Aston-Lakenheath Academy, but Mother was a social butterfly, and I wasn't cut from the same cloth as her.

I tuned out my memories and refocused on the present—on the woman before me. She had said something I clearly hadn't heard.

"Do you understand?" she asked, but I stayed silent.

"Does it hurt that much?" She was gazing at the bandage on my hand.

I wondered if I had unintentionally winced from the pain and adjusted my expression to appear neutral.

"No," I lied. It stung painfully, but that was my concern, not hers.

"We conducted a test run last night to determine if it was infected and how severe it was," she said, as if to dismiss my response, as if she knew I had lied.

"Thanks, but I need to leave," I stated, my expression emotionless as I rose from the bed, ignoring the pain coursing through me.

She cleared her throat and gave me a stern look. "We haven't had a rogue within our borders in a while." Her face remained expressionless, her demeanor unreadable.

"That's none of my concern, and I'm not interested in your pack and its affairs," I replied with an air of indifference.

She noted something down.

Stupid shit. I wanted to slap the electronic device out of her hand but stayed still, my hands clenched to prevent my fingers from trembling.

The door clicked again before opening, revealing him—the face from last night, his perfect eyes glistening under the morning sun streaming in through the window.

"Good morning, Alpha," she said, bowing as she approached him to whisper something before he turned his gaze to me, his expression unreadable.

"Who are you?" His voice held the resonant authority of an alpha commanding respect. It wasn't like any alpha from other districts; it possessed a magnetic presence that made me want to submit to him, to yearn to be his.

I quickly brushed away those absurd thoughts. I wasn't the kind of girl who needed a man in her life to dictate her dreams.

"Camille," I stated with a flicker of pride, asserting my identity free from the weight of Father's name. Just Camille.

"We found you within our territory."

I scoffed. "You found? I saw you, and you clearly drugged me!" I rolled my eyes, exasperated.

He studied me closely, pressing his lips together as if measuring the weight of his words. When he finally flattened them, he held my gaze. "What do you want?" A thin scowl appeared on his face.

I laughed humorlessly. "You brought me here!" I snapped, my frustration aimed squarely at both of them.

"You were within the borders of our pack," he reiterated.

I shrugged. "I had no idea. Now that's settled, please just let me go."

"Who sent you?" he pressed.

I looked at him, striving to keep my disgust at bay. What did he mean by "who sent me"? It felt like I should be asking that question, not answering it.

"No one," I replied.

"Keep her here until she's ready to respond," he ordered, his tone clipped as he prepared to leave.

"You can't do that!" I flared at him in desperation. Alpha Sigewuf would be searching for me. I didn't have the luxury of time to sit here; I needed to get as far away as possible.

"I'm running away from my arranged marriage to Alpha Sigewuf of the Darkstar pack," I blurted out, instantly regretting my lack of discretion, but he froze, his hand resting on the doorknob.

That caught his attention.

He turned slowly to confront me, those eyes swirling with a mix of dark hues around the edges of his pupils. "I had no intention of crossing into any pack or territory; I just wanted to escape as far as possible. Then the rogue emerged, and then…" My gaze darted towards him. "You."

"Why?"

"Why what?" I asked, confused.

"Why can't you marry him?" he interrogated.

"I can't!" I retorted sharply, a vein throbbing at my temple.

"You seem convincing, but not entirely so," he remarked dryly, as if he were bored. It frustrated me.

"Hell, you should have left me exactly where you found me. I never asked for your assistance!" I snarled, irritated with his demand for me to justify myself.

"I didn't save you," he replied, his voice resonating with the rough authority of someone carrying great weight. "I was protecting my pack—not you."

His words sliced through me like claws scraping at my very essence. They cut deep and remained. But my expression remained aloof, effortlessly, my expression undaunted. I had endured worse.

"Then why am I here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He remained silent, deliberately avoiding my gaze.

"I saw you last night before you approached the border," the woman with the red lips remarked.

Despite my reluctance, the confusion swirling in my mind manifested on my face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I insisted, clearly befuddled.

"You appeared in my vision yesterday, and you stated you truly needed our help."

I laughed—a blend of hysteria and confusion that evaporated as I stared blankly from him to her.

"Who are you?" I demanded, all humor dissipated from my expression.

"That's not important," he replied curtly.

I disregarded him.

"What are you people?" I asked, backing away from them.

"I'm Doctor Skyla, a member of the Merd-Blevin Walker pack and a hybrid," she explained slowly, allowing me time to absorb her words.

"This is Alpha Vikron Rhaul Rawson, Alpha of our pack and protector of this territory."

Why did his name sound familiar? Vikron Rhaul Rawson. Then it struck me.

I felt blood shot up my head.

He was the one—the cursed scion of the Rhaul mansion and the brother of Alpha Sigewuf Rawson!