Chapter 3: Caught and Taken

ANWEN'S POV

“What do we have hiding in here?”

His eyes pinned me as if he could peel back my skin and see the truth beneath. Then his hands closed around my shoulders—hard, immovable. Strong. The kind that could crush bone without trying.

I kept my head down.

I nearly yelped when his grip tightened, and he turned me to face the second monster. The sound clawed up my throat, but I swallowed it down so fast it burned.

I couldn’t let them hear my voice.

One wrong note, one slip, and they’d know I wasn’t a boy.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

My trembling only worsened.

This one was even broader, his chest a wall of muscle beneath dark leather armor. Slightly shorter than the Lycan, yes—but still massive enough to make Arlo and me look like dwarves beside him. His shadow alone could have swallowed me whole.

His arms were etched with dark markings that curled over muscle and vanished beneath his sleeves. His brown hair was pulled back at the crown, the rest falling just short of his shoulders. He looked every bit as striking as the Lycan behind me—but, like him, whatever lived inside was monstrous.

“Look, Brammon,” the Lycan said, his huge hands still resting on my shoulders like a warning.

Brammon’s green eyes narrowed, his gaze dragging slowly over my face. His nostrils flared, as if the mud caked across my skin did nothing to disguise me. As if he already saw exactly what I was beneath it.

I instinctively stepped back as he moved closer. But my retreat was cut short when my back slammed into the hard chest of the Lycan behind me.

But Arlo cut in quickly, his voice cracking with forced casualness. “That’s… just my little brother.”

Brammon laughed—low and deep, a sound so heavy it felt like it rattled the ground beneath my boots.

“Little brother, eh?” he drawled. His voice carried a slow amusement that made my skin crawl.

“I can smell your fear,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “And I can almost taste your lies.”

Arlo stepped forward a fraction. “It’s true, he’s my bro—”

“Silence.”

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

With a single raised hand, Arlo froze mid-sentence. The color drained from his face, though he tried to keep standing tall.

Brammon looked back at the Lycan holding me. “Fenric,” he said lazily.

Then he nodded toward me. “Why don’t you take a closer look at the little brother,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

My knees nearly buckled. They would have, if Fenric’s hands weren’t still clamped around my shoulders like iron bands. He shifted behind me. 

Before I could react, he reached up and yanked back the hood of my cloak. Cold air hit my neck.

My hair spilled free, the strands tumbling down my back, pale in the morning light.

The word seemed to fall apart.

Slowly, helplessly, I looked toward Arlo. Our eyes met.

The look I gave him said everything. We’re caught.

Arlo’s face twisted with panic. “No!” he shouted, lunging forward, trying to reach me. “Let go of my brother!”

But Brammon stepped smoothly into his path, blocking him with nothing more than his sheer size.

Behind me, Fenric chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest and into my spine. Then his fingers tangled in my hair, jerking my head sideways and baring my neck. His breath brushed my skin as he lowered his face to sniff, the tip of his nose grazing me.

I went rigid. The contact sent a jolt of shivers down my spine. Too close.

He lingered at the crook, sniffing harder. For a horrible second, I thought he might bite.

Instead, he pulled back. His grip loosened, and my hair slipped free from his hand.

“A girl,” Fenric announced. The words hit the air like a verdict.

Before I could even draw a full breath, Brammon turned and seized Arlo by the throat. My brother’s feet left the ground as easily as if he weighed nothing.

Brammon held him there, his fingers tightening slowly. His eyes gleamed with something dark and satisfied.

“Did you truly think you could hide a female from us?” he said, his voice cold, almost curious. “You know our laws. Concealing one is a crime.”

I tried to wrench myself free from Fenric’s grip, but his hands barely moved. It was like struggling against a tree trunk.

“No!” The cry tore out of me. “Let him go!”

My brother’s feet dangled above the ground. His fingers clawed weakly at the massive hand choking him. His face was already turning a frightening shade of purple.

Arlo gasped for air, but his wide, terrified eyes were fixed on me. “Anwen…”

Brammon lifted him even higher.

I reached out instinctively, my hand trembling in the air between us. “You’re going to kill him!” I screamed.

Fenric’s voice came from behind me, calm and cold. “Hiding a female is punishable by death.”

Arlo’s gasps were growing weaker. I didn’t know what to do. My legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees.

“Please,” I begged, the word tearing from me. “I’ll come with you… just let my brother go.”

Arlo shook his head violently. “No,” he wheezed, but I ignored him. I had to. I couldn’t watch him die.

My eyes met Brammon’s—those cold green eyes—and his jaw tightened. “You’ll come with us either way.”

I lowered myself further, palms pressed to the dirt. “You monsters have already taken our parents,” I whispered. “Don’t take him from me too.”

The sob broke free before I could swallow it. "Please."

Something in Brammon shifted. Not softened—monsters like him didn’t soften—but shifted. He lowered Arlo until his boots touched the ground, loosening his grip, though not releasing him entirely.

Arlo collapsed forward, coughing violently, sucking in desperate breaths.

“Take her,” Brammon ordered.

Suddenly, I was off the ground, slung over Fenric’s shoulder like a sack of grain. My stomach lurched.

“Wait!” I pleaded. “Let me say goodbye!”

But Fenric didn’t slow. Didn’t even acknowledge me.

I thrashed, kicked, screamed—but he broke into a sprint, so fast the world blurred. Arlo’s voice faded behind us, calling my name until it dissolved into the wind.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” I sobbed, but no answer came.

So I let my body go limp and cried—for Arlo, for the promise we’d always stay together, for the life waiting for me.

I’d heard the stories. Women taken. Used. Rarely surviving. No one had ever heard of a successful birth between humans and Scions. And if, by some miracle, a woman conceived, the mother would be given to another house. Another monster.

That couldn’t be my life. I had to escape.

We plunged into a thick forest. The air shifted—colder, heavier. I shivered uncontrollably, coughing as the chill scraped my throat. Fenric slowed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest hint of concern.

An idea sparked.

Instead of answering, I coughed again. Harder.

Fenric’s pace slowed further.

I forced another cough, dragging in shallow breaths that made it sound like I was choking. As he slowed to a jog, I lifted my head just enough to take in my surroundings.

The path curved along a steep slope. Below, thick bushes and tangled undergrowth spilled down the hill.

If I jumped… would I survive the fall?

I didn’t know. But I knew I wouldn’t survive what waited for me if I didn’t try.

I coughed again, doubling over his shoulder. “I… can’t… breathe,” I wheezed.

Fenric slowed to a walk.

My only chance.

I gathered every ounce of strength and kicked. Hard. Right where Arlo had taught me. Right between his legs. He had said that no matter how strong a man is, a strike there always hurts.

Fenric groaned, his grip loosening.

I twisted, fought, clawed. And suddenly, I was free.

A sob of relief nearly escaped me, but I didn’t waste the breath. I threw myself down the slope.

“You little—!” the monster roared behind me, but I didn’t look back.

I crashed into the bushes, thorns tearing at my skin, but I forced myself up and ran. Branches slapped my face, roots snagged my boots, but I pushed through.

Then the ground vanished beneath me.

I fell again, but I refused to scream.

The fall ended with a bone-rattling impact. Cold stone slammed into my side.

A cave.

The air inside was damp and dark. Pain shot through my body, sharp enough that I knew something might be broken.

But I didn’t move. I didn’t make a sound.

Above me, somewhere in the forest, the monster still hunted. Its chilling howl carried through the trees.

I pressed my face into the mossy ground and held my breath, praying I’d fallen far enough. Hoping the moss, the stone, the forest would swallow my scent—and that the monsters wouldn’t find me.