Chapter 4 - The Cave

Regina POV

Cold seeped into her first.

Not the bite of winter air on exposed skin, but a deeper kind of cold—stone cold, damp cold, the kind that crawled into bone and stayed there. Regina surfaced from blackness slowly, like swimming up through thick water, her thoughts snagging on fragments before they could form.

Where—

Her eyelids fluttered. The world behind them was dim and smeared, shadows and faint light pulsing as if something flickered nearby. Her head throbbed with a steady, nauseating beat. Every breath scraped her throat, tasting of mineral-rich air and something stale, like old leaves left too long in rain.

Her stomach lurched.

Regina tried to push herself up. Pain snapped through her wrists.

A sharp intake of breath escaped her, more sound than she intended, and the noise echoed strangely—stretched and warped—as if the space around her was too large.

Her eyes opened fully.

Stone ceiling above, jagged and uneven. Water glistening on rock. A narrow slice of pale light somewhere far ahead—moonlight, maybe—filtering down through a crack.

A cave.

Her pulse spiked so hard it felt like it shoved against her ribs. She turned her head and immediately regretted it; dizziness swamped her, the world tilting sideways. She squeezed her eyes shut until the spinning eased.

No. No, no—

Memory slammed into her in violent flashes: the corridor, the cloth, the sweet scent filling her lungs, hands pinning her. A voice close to her ear—so pretty—and then darkness.

Her chest tightened until breathing became work.

Regina forced her eyes open again, blinking hard until the cave came into focus. She lay on a rough stone floor scattered with grit and damp patches. Her wrists were bound above her head with coarse rope looped around a rock outcropping. The rope bit into her skin, abrasive and unforgiving. Her ankles were free, but the angle of her wrists made it hard to leverage her body.

She tested the rope with a cautious tug.

It didn’t budge.

Her throat tightened again, panic rising like floodwater.

Okay. Think. Don’t panic. Panicking wastes energy.

But her body didn’t listen. Her heartbeat raced, too loud in her ears. Her breaths came shallow and fast, filling her lungs with damp air that tasted like earth and rot.

Regina swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth. Her tongue felt thick.

Drugged.

Whatever had been on that cloth—something sweet and sharp—still clung to the back of her sinuses. She could taste it when she breathed in.

Her wolf stirred faintly beneath her skin, sluggish, like it had been shoved under water. Usually, her wolf was quick to snap awake when fear hit. Now it felt muted, weighed down, trapped behind a heavy door.

That terrified her more than the rope.

Regina tried to shift her hands, ignoring the sting as rope scraped skin. She twisted her wrists, searching for slack, for a knot, for anything. The rope held tight. The rock above her was damp and slick, offering no give.

She lifted her head, scanning the cave.

The space was larger than she’d expected, widening into darkness beyond the reach of the faint moonlight. Somewhere water dripped steadily, the sound too regular, too patient. The drip echoed, and with each echo she became more aware of the silence between them—the heavy hush of a place not meant for living things.

There were scents too, faint but present.

Stone. Water. Earth.

And… iron.

Not fresh blood, not like a recent wound.

Old iron. Old blood.

Her stomach clenched hard. She gagged once, dry.

Regina squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

Her mind tried to sprint ahead into worst-case scenarios, and she dragged it back with raw effort.

Someone took you. Why? For ransom? To threaten your father? Or—

The council meeting.

Young girls.

Drained of blood.

A cold wave rolled through her body, and she couldn’t tell whether it came from the stone beneath her or the thought clawing into her mind.

No. That’s—no. That can’t be—

Her throat tightened until she could barely swallow.

Regina tried to pull her wrists down, testing strength. Pain flared, rope biting deeper. She hissed, teeth gritting, and forced herself to stop before she tore skin open.

Think. Observe.

She forced her eyes open again and looked for anything—any tool, any loose rock, any edge sharp enough to cut rope.

The moonlight patch was too far.

There was a dim glow somewhere deeper in the cave, orange and faint—firelight. It flickered, sending shifting shadows across the stone.

Someone was here.

Regina’s heart stuttered, then raced harder. Her wolf pressed weakly against her ribs, a low, frustrated growl in her blood.

She listened.

At first, she heard only the drip of water and the distant rush of wind outside the cave. Then—soft movement. The scrape of boot against stone. A low murmur, too far away to understand.

Regina held her breath, straining.

The movement came closer.

The glow brightened.

And then a figure emerged from the darkness.

Regina’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t the polished, elegant shape of Rafael—no crisp suit, no calm smile. This person wore rough clothes, dark and practical, their face partially hidden beneath a hood. They moved with deliberate ease, like they weren’t worried about tripping or being surprised. Like they knew the cave belonged to them.

They paused just outside the moonlight’s edge, where Regina could see only the outline of their shoulders and the glint of something in their hand.

A blade?

Regina’s muscles tensed automatically, fear turning her body into wire. “Who—” she croaked, voice rough and thin.

The figure stepped closer.

Regina’s stomach sank.

A mask covered the lower half of their face, dark leather molded to skin. Their eyes reflected the faint light like a predator’s—sharp, amused, hungry.

Recognition sparked in her mind—not recognition of a person, but of a feeling.

This was the same wrongness she’d felt in the hall.

The same unnatural stillness beneath movement.

Not wolf.

Not human.

Her wolf finally snapped more awake, hackles rising—too late, sluggish but furious.

The figure tilted their head, studying her like she was something interesting.

“You’re awake,” they said.

The voice was altered—deeper than it should’ve been, strange around the edges, like someone speaking through cloth.

Regina’s mouth went dry. “What do you want?”

A soft laugh. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

They moved closer, and Regina could see their hands now—gloved. In one hand, a small glass vial that caught the firelight, the liquid inside dark and thick.

Blood.

Regina’s stomach lurched.

“No,” she whispered without meaning to.

The figure crouched beside her with slow, casual grace. “Oh, yes.”

Regina strained backward, but her wrists were anchored. “Please,” she breathed, voice breaking despite her attempt to hold it steady. “If you want something from my father—money, territory—”

The figure’s eyes gleamed. “Your father?”

Another laugh, softer, almost delighted. “This isn’t about your father.”

Regina’s heart slammed painfully.

The figure’s gloved fingers brushed along the edge of her jaw, tilting her face toward the faint light. Regina flinched, skin crawling beneath the touch.

“Pale skin,” the figure murmured, almost reverent. “Pretty. Soft.”

Regina swallowed bile, fighting the urge to scream. She tried to twist away, but the hand tightened, holding her still with effortless strength.

Her wolf snarled, pressing harder beneath her ribs. Regina tried to summon the shift, to call her wolf forward, to let it take over. But the drug still dulled her edges. Her bones only ached faintly, like the beginning of a fever, then subsided.

Panic clawed up her throat.

“I won’t—” she started, voice shaking.

The figure leaned closer, and Regina smelled them—cool stone and that metallic tang. And something else, faint but unmistakable.

Decay.

Like old leaves rotting under snow.

Her stomach rolled again.

The figure’s gaze lowered to her throat. Regina’s pulse hammered there, betraying her. She hated it. Hated that her body was alive and loud and vulnerable.

“You smell different,” the figure murmured. “Not like the others.”

Regina’s blood ran colder.

Others.

How many?

The figure’s gloved thumb traced lightly over her collarbone. “Special,” they whispered.

Regina forced her voice to work. “You killed them.”

The figure paused. Slowly, their head lifted, eyes meeting hers. The amusement in them sharpened.

“Careful,” they said softly. “That’s a dangerous accusation.”

“You drained them,” Regina rasped. Her voice sounded too small in the vast cave. “That’s what you do.”

The figure’s eyes narrowed, then widened with something like delighted surprise.

“Oh,” they breathed. “You know.”

Regina’s breath caught. “What are you?”

The figure smiled behind the mask—she could see it in the curve of their cheeks, the slight lift beneath leather. “A predator,” they said simply. “Like you. Just… older. Hungrier. Smarter.”

Regina shook her head, the movement small because the hand still held her jaw. “You’re not like me.”

The figure hummed thoughtfully, as if considering. Then they released her face with sudden ease and rose, stepping back.

Regina sucked in a shaky breath, her skin burning where they’d touched her.

The figure walked toward the firelight deeper in the cave, leaving Regina staring after them, chest heaving.

She listened desperately for more voices, for any sign someone else was here.

Silence.

Just the drip. The wind. The crackle of a small fire.

Alone.

Regina’s fear shifted into something sharper.

Anger.

She tugged at the rope again, harder this time, ignoring the sting. Pain shot up her arms. The rope didn’t move.

Think. You can’t brute force this.

She scanned the cave again, frantic now, eyes catching on small details—rocks piled near the fire, a crude bedroll, empty bottles. A thick chain anchored to another stone outcropping farther in. Dark stains on the floor.

Blood stains.

Regina’s vision blurred. She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry. Crying wouldn’t help. Tears were wasted water.

Her wolf pressed against her ribs like a caged thing, furious and humiliated.

She needed to stay alive.

To get out.

To warn her father.

To warn Aldric—

Aldric.

The silver-eyed Alpha flickered into her mind, that strange warmth she’d felt when their eyes met. It was absurd to think of him now, bound in a cave, but something about the memory steadied her. Like a thread thrown across a chasm.

He’ll notice I’m gone, she told herself fiercely.

They’ll look.

My father will tear the world apart.

The figure returned, moving into the moonlight again. They held the vial of blood in one hand and something else in the other—a small knife, its blade catching orange light.

Regina’s breath caught again, fear roaring back.

“No,” she said, voice stronger now. “No—don’t—”

The figure crouched near her, knife held loosely, almost casual.

“Hold still,” they murmured, as if she were being difficult over something trivial.

Regina kicked out. Her heel struck the figure’s thigh. They barely rocked back.

A gloved hand shot out, grabbing her ankle with crushing strength. Regina gasped as pain flared. The figure twisted her leg slightly, pinning it awkwardly.

“Don’t,” they said, tone still calm but now edged. “I don’t like when prey makes this messy.”

Prey.

The word hit Regina like a slap, igniting rage so hot it made her vision sharpen. “I’m not prey,” she hissed, surprising herself.

The figure paused, eyes narrowing. “No?” they murmured. “Let’s see.”

The knife blade traced lightly along her forearm, just enough to raise gooseflesh, not yet cutting.

Regina’s wolf surged. Something in her snapped—fear, anger, survival instinct, all colliding.

She pulled hard against the rope again, muscles screaming. The rope bit. Her skin tore slightly. Warm blood welled.

And suddenly—

A sound echoed from somewhere outside the cave.

A distant shout, carried faintly by wind.

Regina froze, breath caught.

The figure froze too, head tilting.

Another sound—closer.

Footsteps.

Voices.

Wolves.

Regina’s heart leaped so violently it hurt. Hope slammed into her chest, bright and terrifying.

The figure’s eyes flashed with irritation.

“Stay quiet,” they warned, and then they moved—swift as shadow—retreating into the darkness, firelight swallowed by their passage.

Regina stared into the black where they’d vanished, trembling.

The voices grew louder.

A deep male growl echoed through the cave mouth.

And then Regina heard it—clear now, unmistakable.

“Regina!”

Her father.

Relief broke through her like sunlight through storm clouds, so strong it made her vision swim.

“I’m here!” she tried to scream, but her voice came out ragged.

Footsteps thundered closer, multiple sets, the sound of wolves moving fast and angry.

A silhouette appeared at the cave entrance, blocking moonlight.

Then another.

And then—

A tall figure moved into the cave with purposeful strides, shoulders broad, scent flooding the air—wolf, smoke, and something sharp like winter.

Aldric.

His silver eyes found her instantly.

The moment they locked onto her bound form, something in his expression changed—control cracking into something feral and deadly.

Regina’s breath hitched.

He looked like a storm given shape.

And for the first time since waking up in this cave, her terror loosened its grip.

Because she believed—deep in her bones—that whatever had taken her…

Would not survive what was coming.

⸻