A BARGAIN WITH THE DAREDEVIL

LYNE:

I shivered from the cold penetrating my body from the cold floor of what looks like a prison. I try to recall how I'd ended up lying here. I remember coughing out some of the water that I'd gotten into my lungs at the shore.

A figure, my saviour, towered in front of me, but I was unable to get a glimpse of his face. But how did I suddenly wind up in a prison?

“My saviour,” I gasp softly. What had happened to him?

“Bring her out to the torture room,” a deep, raspy baritone voice says. The sound of keys rattling and the iron prison gate creaking open follows after.

I tilt my head up to see a slightly tall male figure treading to me. “It will be in your best interest if you tell nothing but the truth,” he whispered, lifting unto his shoulders.

Torture room? What truth was he talking about? I don't even bother to struggle or question as I am carried away, only breathing steadily and trying not to throw up from the horrid smell of metal, flesh, and blood thickening the air.

The stronger the smell grew, the more my senses stirred alert, and I could tell we were getting closer to the torture room as I am carried through a long narrow path, enough for only two to freely walk, with flaming torches spaced apart on one side.

“My lord, will we be needing Valeris?” The man who carried me asked, dropping me to sit on a wooden chair in the middle.

Who is Valeris, and what does Valeris have to do with me? The room was dimly lit and chilly, with only one flaming torch lighting up the wide space and cracking softly. There was a window high up with two iron bars. The sun was only starting to rise, its golden rays penetrated faintly.

“No,” The deep voice says again, echoing through the room. His shadow casted on the cold stone wall swayed as he turned to our direction.

I shuddered weakly. He must be the Alpha, and no, it definitely wasn't Alpha Elan's voice. A thick brown leather belt is immediately wrapped around my chest, strapping me to the chair.

“Done, my lord.”

“You may leave.” He responds, his silvery, long hair ruffled by a sudden rush of cold air.

“Wolfless one, needless to waste both our time; you have two options,” he growls, taking slow, steady steps towards me.

"One is for you to think very carefully of a brilliant lie that will save you from my wrath. Or,” he stops, towering in front of me.

I recognize his aura; it is him. My savior, or is he?

“You could just tell me the truth, and we can skip the trifling torture, shall we?” He adds, leaning in to me.

My body trembled when I dared to stare wide-eyed into his crimson eyes. My eyes darted wildly, reading his look, as a wicked grin spread across his lips.

“As simple as watching the sunrise, isn't it? That is, if you ever wish to see the sun rise again over your pretty. Little. Head. Now, tell me." He leans closer, his big hands wrapping around the arm of the chair, pressing the hold of mine with a force I fear would break my bones.

I whimper, not from the pain he was inflicting on me but from fear. Fright, as the man before me takes on his wolf form. His fur, white as the moon, tingled my skin. The sun was up now, the rays that danced across the room casted a warm glow on his fur.

He sheaths out long, sharp fangs at me. His breath hot against my face, he snarls.

“Who sent you?!”