Chapter 5—Taken

Willow woke to pain.

A dull, aching weight pressed against her body, making every movement feel sluggish and heavy. The air was thick and damp, carrying the scent of stone, rot, and wolves—too many wolves.

She inhaled slowly, trying to clear the haze from her mind.

Something was wrong.

She blinked against the dim light, her vision swimming as she took in her surroundings. Rough stone walls. A single flickering lantern casting weak shadows across the floor. Cold air brushing against her bare arms.

Her wrists—

A burning sensation sizzled against her skin.

She looked down and found thick, silver-lined shackles clasped around her wrists, attached to a chain bolted into the wall. Not enough to sear through her skin, but enough to sap her strength—enough to keep her from shifting.

Willow clenched her jaw.

“Nova?”

Silence.

Panic flared, but then, just barely, she felt her wolf stir—weak, distant.

“I’m here,” Nova whispered, her voice strained. “But I feel… drained.”

So it wasn’t just the silver. Something else was keeping them weak.

Willow exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus.

She tried to reach for Theo through the mate bond.

It was too faint. A thread stretched so thin she could barely feel it.

No. No, no, no.

She should be able to feel him—his steady presence, his warmth, his strength. Even when apart, their bond had always been there.

This?

This felt like someone had cut her off.

A sharp bolt of anger replaced the panic.

She took another breath, slowing her racing thoughts. She needed information.

“Where am I? Who took me?

And most importantly—how do I get out?”

The heavy wooden door groaned open.

Willow’s head snapped up as five wolves entered the room.

Rogues.

She knew the scent before she even saw them—unwashed, unclean, wild. Their eyes flickered between golden and black as they studied her.

But they weren’t the threat.

The man who followed them in was.

He stepped inside with an easy, confident gait, dressed in dark clothes that looked too neat, too clean for a rogue. His hair was slicked back, his expression amused—like he was enjoying a private joke.

Willow’s lips curled in a snarl. “You’re staring.”

The man chuckled. “And you’re exactly what I expected.”

Her fingers twitched against the chains. “Oh? You expected a pissed-off Luna ready to rip your throat out?”

His smirk didn’t falter. “I expected someone who doesn’t understand what she is.”

Something in his tone made her stomach tighten.

Willow forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “I know exactly what I am.”

The man tilted his head slightly, considering her.

“No,” he murmured. “You don’t.”

She hated the way he said it—like he knew something she didn’t.

Like he was waiting for her to figure it out.

She bared her teeth. “If you’re expecting some grand realization, you’re going to be disappointed.”

He let out a low chuckle. “We’ll see.”

Willow’s eyes flickered to the guards. Five of them. Armed. Watching her like she was some wild creature they were trying to tame.

She could take them—if she weren’t weakened.

She forced herself to stay still, feigning boredom. “What do you want?”

The man’s smirk widened slightly.

“I want you to remember.”

“Remember what?” Willow snapped, frustrated.

He just stared for a moment longer, before turning and walking out the door, his entourage following.

The moment he left, Willow was in motion.

She pulled at the chains, testing their limits. The silver burned, but she gritted her teeth and ignored the pain.

“Nova?”

Still weak, her wolf murmured, frustrated. “Whatever they’re using, it’s not just silver. Something is keeping us caged.”

Willow exhaled sharply, trying not to let frustration take over.

She turned her focus to the bond.

“Theo.”

Nothing.

A whisper, maybe. A faint warmth buried under layers of something unnatural.

They did something to block it.

Her pulse pounded. Theo was coming for her. She knew that as surely as she knew how to breathe. But she had no idea how far she was, how much time had passed—how much time she had before—

The door creaked again.

She stilled as two of the guards stepped inside.

One of the rogues—a large, thickly built man with a jagged scar running down his cheek—grinned at her. “Comfortable, Luna?”

Willow’s answering smile was sharp.

“You know, my mate is going to kill all of you.”

Scarface’s grin twitched slightly, but he covered it with a sneer. “Big talk for someone in chains.”

Willow’s gaze stayed locked on his. She let the words sink in.

“You don’t understand,” she said softly, leaning forward just enough for the silver to bite into her wrists. She didn’t even flinch. “Theo isn’t just going to kill you. He’s going to rip your throats out. One by one.”

Scarface’s sneer wavered.

Good.

One of the younger guards muttered, “We’re counting on it.”

Willow’s spine went rigid.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

The younger guard looked away, suddenly interested in the floor.

Scarface smirked and pulled him toward the door. “Don’t talk to her.”

The door slammed shut.

Willow exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to think.

They wanted Theo to come.

Why?

The next time the leader came, his expression was different.

More thoughtful.

He watched her for a long moment before speaking.

“You really don’t know,” he murmured.

Willow stiffened. “Know what?”

His lips curled into something close to pity.

“The fire-haired one is more than she seems.” His voice was almost reverent. “If she remembers, she will be unstoppable.”

Her breath caught.

A sharp pulse echoed inside her chest—something old, something distant.

And then it was gone.

Willow’s mind spun.

Before she could demand an explanation, the man turned and walked out, leaving her in silence.

Willow sat in the dim light, her heart pounding.

She was more than she seemed?

If she remembers?

Remembers what?

She clenched her fists.

She wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for answers.

Theo was coming.

And when he did—

They would burn for this.