New life turned into a nightmare

Chapter 8

AMARA

My eyes widened and my instincts flared, I took a step back, my hands gripping my backpack as I turned to run. But I hadn't made a step when a hand caught me and yanked me back.

I stumbled and my legs felt weak. I saw Clara and four other girls looking pale as we were herded like cattle towards a truck.

“Inside,” another man ordered.

They pushed us into the back of the truck. The metal floor was rough under my knees. The door slammed shut, trapping us in.

The engine roared. The truck shook as it moved. There was barely any light inside, only a thin line from a crack in the door. I pressed my back against the side, trying to steady my breathing.

The girls began whispering.

“What’s happening?” one of them asked in a trembling voice.

“Where are they taking us?” another sobbed.

“Are they going to kill us?” a third whispered.

I kept quiet for a moment. Their voices were shaking. Their fear was heavy in the air. Finally, I spoke.

“Calm down,” I hushed in a whisper. “We’re not dead yet. But… we’ve been taken. This is kidnapping.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

They began crying harder. One girl buried her face in her hands. Another rocked herself back and forth. Clara moved closer to me.

“You sure?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I nodded. “I felt it the moment they dragged us off the road.”

The sound of the truck was loud, but beneath it I could hear another vehicle following. My instincts told me we were being guarded from behind too.

Time passed slowly. My mouth was dry. The air inside the truck was stale.

Clara leaned close to my ear. “I think I know where we’re going.”

I looked at her. “Where?”

She hesitated. “A rogue pack.”

I frowned. “What’s a rogue?”

Her voice dropped lower, like she was afraid even the walls could hear. “Rogues are werewolves without a pack. Outcasts. Banished ones. They don’t follow rules. They survive by hunting, stealing, and killing. And this… this one is worse than most.”

I swallowed. “Worse how?”

“This pack is a rogue pack and it's the most dangerous in the region,” she whispered. “People disappear near their territory. And you know what , no one comes back. Their Alpha is… powerful. Very powerful.”

The way she said it made my skin crawl. I wanted to ask more, but the truck jerked hard. We were slowing down.

The girls went quiet. The sound of the following car stopped too.

The back doors opened. Cold night air rushed in.

“Out!” a man shouted.

We climbed down, one by one. My feet touched dirt. The place smelled of smoke and wet leaves. The moonlight showed crumbling buildings, broken fences, and shadows that moved in the trees.

A group of rough-looking men stood around us. Their clothes were torn, their eyes sharp as they watched us.

One of them smirked. “Fresh ones.”

Another laughed low. “The Alpha will like this batch.”

They shoved us forward. We walked through the ruins, passing old cabins with broken windows. A fire burned somewhere in the distance. Voices murmured in the dark.

We stopped at a heavy wooden door built into the ground. One of the men pulled it open. A black hole yawned beneath.

“In,” he ordered.

We hesitated.

“In!” he barked louder.

One girl started crying again. “Please… don’t...”

A shove sent her stumbling down the steps. I caught her before she fell too far.

Clara gripped my hand tight. “Stay close to me,” she whispered.

We descended into the dark. The air grew damp and colder with every step. The door slammed shut above us and we heard a lock click.

It was a cellar. The walls were stone, wet in places. The floor was dirt. There was no light except for a faint sliver from a gap in the boards overhead.

The sound of the men’s footsteps faded away. Then there was silence.

I sank down against the wall. My heart was still racing from what just happened. The other girls huddled together in a corner. Clara sat beside me.

“What do they want with us?” one girl whispered.

“Don’t ask,” another said in a shaky voice. “We’re not going to like the answer.”

I stared into the dark. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

No one spoke after that.

The hours crawled by. The air was heavy, the smell of damp soil thick in my nose. My body was tired, but I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the glowing eyes of the man who had taken me.

I could hear the others breathing. Some of them sniffled quietly. One of them prayed under her breath.

Clara shifted beside me. “We have to be ready,” she said.

“For what?” I asked softly.

“For whatever happens tomorrow.”

I nodded even though I was confused. “I’ll be ready.”

But inside, I didn’t know if that was true. I didn’t even know if we would be alive by tomorrow night. But I allowed nature to take its course as I begged it to drift me off to sleep.

The sound of metal scraping woke me. My eyes burned from staying awake all night. The cellar door creaked open, spilling pale morning light down the steps.

Boots thudded against the wood. Ryder appeared, his shadow stretching long across the floor.

“You. Out,” he ordered.

I didn’t move. My body felt stiff and my mind heavy. Clara grabbed my arm.

“No,” she whispered sharply. “Please… don’t take her.”

Ryder ignored her. He stepped inside, reached down, and yanked me to my feet. His grip was like iron.

“Let go of her!” Clara cried, her voice breaking. She tried to pull me back, but Ryder shoved her aside without looking at her.

I stumbled forward, my bare feet scraping against the rough steps as he dragged me up and out of the cellar.

The cold air hit me hard. I blinked against the light. My eyes darted around, taking in the strange place. Broken cabins. Fires smoldering in barrels. Men watching from the shadows.

Ryder didn’t slow. He hauled me toward a large building made of dark wood, the roof sagging in the middle but still strong enough to stand. The door groaned open as he shoved me inside.

The air here was warmer, scented with something sweet. My eyes adjusted to see a dim hallway lit by oil lamps. Ryder led me into a smaller room.

A woman stood there, dressed in simple clothes. Her hair was tied back, her face expressionless.

“Wash her,” Ryder ordered.

The woman nodded and took my arm. She led me toward a basin of steaming water. Without a word, she began scrubbing my skin. The water stung where my skin was raw from the ropes. She poured something fragrant into the basin—a scent like flowers and spice. It clung to my skin, almost choking me.

She worked in silence, her hands quick and practiced. When she was done, she brought out a folded bundle.

“Put these on,” she said quietly.

The clothes were soft, clean, and far finer than anything I’d worn in a long time. A loose blouse, fitted trousers, and a warm cloak. I dressed quickly, still trying to understand what was happening.

Why would they clean me? Why would they give me new clothes?

When I was done, the woman stepped back and opened the door.

“He’s ready for you,” she said.

My stomach tightened.

Ryder appeared again, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t say anything—just jerked his head for me to follow.

The hallway felt longer this time. At the end, a large set of double doors waited. Ryder pushed them open.

The room beyond was wide and dim, lit by tall candles that flickered against the walls. Animal pelts lay scattered across the floor. A great wooden chair—more like a throne—sat at the far end.

And in that chair sat a man.

I froze.

He was tall—broad in the shoulders, built like a man who had seen a hundred battles and walked away from all of them. His arms were bare, thick with muscle, marked with black ink that twisted into strange patterns across his skin. The tattoos climbed his neck and curled along his jaw.

His hair was a dark, heavy mohawk, the sides of his head shaved close. His jawline was sharp enough to cut. His skin carried the faint bronze of someone who lived under sun and war. His lips — soft pink against his rough face looked almost out of place, but they didn’t make him any less dangerous.

And his eyes.

They were black. The kind of black that made you feel you were falling into it. The kind of black that told you there was no mercy there. His gaze locked on me, and it felt like a hand closing around my throat.

I stood frozen as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. He studied me like a hunter studying prey.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice low and deep.

My feet moved without my permission. I stopped a few steps away from him, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving mine.

“I am Ragnar Ragnar,” he said slowly. “Alpha of the Bloodfang pack.”

The name hit me like a weight. Bloodfang. The name Clara had whispered with fear. The most dangerous rogue pack. And this man… he ruled it.

My pulse hammered in my ears. My throat felt tight. But I forced my voice out.

“Why… Why did you take me?” I asked, my tone sharper than I expected.

His brows rose slightly. Ryder, standing behind me, shifted his weight like he was ready to strike me for speaking that way. But Ragnar just smiled faintly.

“You are not afraid to question me,” he said.

I swallowed hard. “I want to know the reason. I want to know why you dragged me here like an animal.”

His smile widened just a little, though it didn’t touch his eyes.

“I like your spirit,” he said. “We might get along well.”

His words made my skin prickle. Something about the way he said them felt wrong. Like he was already sure of something I didn’t know.

I clenched my fists tighter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

The silence stretched between us. His black eyes stayed locked on mine. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet.

Up close, he was even more massive. His shadow seemed to fill the whole room. The tattoos across his chest and arms rippled as he moved. He stopped in front of me, towering over me.

“You want to know why you’re here?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” I said, though my voice shook.

He leaned down slightly, his breath brushing my ear.

“Because,” he said, his voice dark and final, “you belong to me now.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.