THE PRISONER

The moment I crossed the iron gates of the Jordan Pack, my breath caught in my throat.

The walls were enormous, crowned with fire-lit torches that flickered against the night.

For one foolish, fragile heartbeat, I thought I was safe.

But the way they looked at me their eyes cold, sharp, suspicious told me safety didn’t live here either.

Inside the courtyard, a meeting was already underway. Warriors and elders filled the open space, their voices echoing under the torchlight. Every head turned when I stepped inside, and suddenly, silence sliced through the air like a blade.

“Who is she?” one warrior barked, his hand already gripping the hilt of his sword.

“She smells like trouble about to be unleashed,” an elder muttered, his wrinkled lip curling in disgust.

Another voice, harsher, spat out the word that made my stomach drop.

“A rogue.”

The air left my lungs.

I wanted to explain, to scream that I wasn’t what they thought that I was born to lead, not destroy. But the words stayed trapped in my throat, tangled with exhaustion and fear. My wolf whimpered weakly inside me. We’d been through too much too many nights of running, bleeding, and barely surviving.

And deep down, a numb part of me whispered that it didn’t matter.

If they killed me here, at least Greg wouldn’t have the pleasure of doing it.

The Alpha rose from his seat.

He was tall imposingly tall with dark, unreadable eyes that seemed to pierce through skin and bone. The weight of his presence made even the warriors lower their heads slightly. But when his gaze met mine, something flickered there. A tremor. A hesitation he tried to hide beneath his command.

“This must be a rogue,” he said finally, his voice rough but steady. “Tie her up and throw her in prison.”

The words crashed through me like thunder.

Prison.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wouldn’t beg. Not anymore. I lifted my chin, refusing to let them see me break.

Two warriors advanced, their faces hard as stone. Their rough hands grabbed me, tying thick ropes around my wrists and ankles. The cords bit deep into my flesh, slicing my skin open. Helena growled inside me, but I whispered, Don’t. Please. Let it be.

If we fought, we’d die here tonight.

They dragged me through cold, narrow corridors. The ground was slick beneath my bare feet, and every step sent pain shooting up my body. Elders muttered curses as I passed; warriors spat on the ground I walked on.

The Alpha said nothing. He simply turned his back as though he’d just ordered the execution of someone unworthy of breath.

When the door to the dungeon opened, a wave of rot and dampness hit me. They shoved me inside and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed through the darkness like a final judgment.

I fell to the cold floor, gasping, my body trembling uncontrollably. Every inch of me ached—from the long run, from the wounds, from the emptiness clawing at my chest.

The cell was small, barely enough space to lie down. The air was thick and wet, smelling of rust and death. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, each drop louder than my heartbeat.

I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head against the wall.

“I’d rather die here,” I whispered to no one, “than be hunted like prey again.”

My voice broke on the last word.

I thought of my parents the warmth of my mother’s hands, the strength in my father’s eyes. Their laughter used to fill every corner of our home. Now there was only silence.

“Why didn’t you take me with you?” I choked out, tears spilling down my face. “You should’ve let me die too. Maybe I’m cursed to live through this… to suffer until there’s nothing left of me.”

Helena was silent inside me. I could still feel her pain, her exhaustion, her fading strength.

I pressed my palm against the rough stone beside me and looked up at the small window where moonlight barely touched the floor.

“Moon Goddess,” I whispered. “Please. If you can hear me… I’m begging you. I can’t keep fighting like this. I’m tired. Please… just let me rest. Let me see them again.”

The tears came harder this time hot, endless, uncontrollable.

And for the first time since my parents’ death, I didn’t try to stop them.

I cried until my voice disappeared, until I couldn’t tell if I was still breathing or if my soul had already drifted away.

Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a howl soft, mournful, like the Moon herself was answering me.

And in that cold, silent prison… I finally let go.

*************

That night, the moon hung high cold and distant while my entire pack slept under her watchful gaze. Everyone except me.

I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind restless. Sleep evaded me like it was afraid to touch me. My chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath laced with unease I couldn’t explain. I hadn’t felt this kind of tension in years.

But I knew the signs.

When the night refuses to rest, it means the Moon is trying to speak.

And she never whispers without reason.

I turned on my side, forcing my eyes shut, but my thoughts wouldn’t stop circling back to her….

the rogue.

The girl I had ordered thrown into the prison.

The one with fear in her eyes… and something else behind it. Something I couldn’t name.

Why couldn’t I get her out of my head?

Finally, around one in the morning, sleep took me but it wasn’t the peaceful kind.

I opened my eyes, and the world had changed.

The air was thick. Heavy. I could taste the darkness. The ground beneath me was made of mist, and silence pressed against my skin until my own heartbeat sounded too loud.

Then I saw it….

a faint glow, distant at first, then coming closer.

Two hands.

Only hands. No faceNobody. Just light. Blinding, sacred, and trembling as though carrying the weight of eternity.

And then she appeared.

Aria.

I froze.

She’s in the dungeon.

This can’t be real.

My pulse thundered. I wanted to speak, to ask what this was, but my throat felt tight, locked.

Then, the light moved.

One of the glowing hands trembled, then slowly lifted… and pointed its finger straight at her.

My breath caught.

My heart stopped.

“No…” I whispered. “Why her?”

But the hand didn’t stop. The finger glowed brighter, the air around it pulsing with power.

It was choosing her.

Declaring her.

I could feel it in my bones.

“This makes no sense!” I shouted into the emptiness. “She’s just a rogue! A stranger!”

The silence swallowed my voice.

The finger didn’t waver.

It kept pointing… unwavering, steady, and burning with light until my knees almost gave out.

I felt something inside me shift something ancient and deep, something I didn’t want to name. A connection. A pull.

I woke up gasping.

Sweat drenched my skin. My chest heaved as though I had run for miles. The room was pitch dark, save for a streak of moonlight cutting across the floor.

I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

I could still see her in my mind. Those eyes. That look of quiet surrender.

I dragged a hand down my face, trembling. “What was that?” I muttered.

No answer.

The night air felt colder than before, seeping into my skin, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear.

And then… a voice.

Soft. Feminine. Barely there.

“You will find the truth in her.”

I froze. My blood turned to ice.

My eyes darted to the window, but no one was there. Only the moonlight, pale and haunting.

“What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered. “Who is she? What does she have to do with me?”

But there was only silence.

The kind that hurts.

The kind that feels like fate.

I looked out the window one last time. The moon was brighter now, as if watching me, waiting……

Sudden waves of coldness…….