Chapter Two: The Cage And The Stranger

(Rhett’s POV)

The first thing I felt was cold.

Not the kind of chill you get from air conditioning or night wind — this one sank deep, like it was trying to claim my bones.

My head throbbed as if I’d been hit with a sledgehammer. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was rough stone and silver light bleeding through gaps in what looked like… bars.

I blinked hard.

Bars.

I was in a cage.

“What the hell…” My voice came out hoarse.

My pulse picked up. The air was damp and heavy, filled with a strange smell — earth, smoke, and something animal. I sat up slowly, my body aching. My drone bag was gone, and my phone wasn’t in my pocket.

The last thing I remembered was the forest — the full moon, the silver glow, those eyes. Dozens of them, gold and bright, staring at me from the dark. Then… her.

The woman with the green eyes.

I exhaled shakily, dragging my hands over my face. It couldn’t have been real. Wolves didn’t have claws that long or eyes that glowed. And no human eyes looked like that.

But the memory was there — her hair, silver as moonlight, her stare so sharp I’d felt it slice through me.

I touched the side of my neck. No blood, no wound. Just skin. But it tingled faintly, as if I’d brushed against a static current.

Outside the cage, the air flickered with pale light. The den — if that’s what this place was — stretched deep into shadow, rough tunnels curving like veins. The sound of distant voices echoed somewhere up ahead — low, harsh, and strange.

I stood, testing my legs. A little weak, but steady enough. The bars in front of me looked like metal but had veins of silver running through them. Not normal.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

The voices drew closer.

I froze, instinctively stepping back into the shadows. The sound wasn’t English — not exactly — but the rhythm of it made my chest tighten. Growls mixed with words, a language that felt primal.

Then I caught fragments.

“…Alpha…”

“…the mark…”

“…human…”

Human.

My stomach dropped. Whoever — whatever — they were, they knew what I was.

A pair of figures walked past the tunnel entrance — tall, broad, moving with a kind of fluid precision that screamed predator. Their eyes glowed faintly gold in the dark. They didn’t even glance toward the cage as they passed.

I didn’t breathe until their footsteps faded.

That was when I heard it — a whisper.

“Get up.”

I spun around. The voice had come from the far side of the den. At first, I thought I imagined it. Then I saw movement — a silhouette in the dim light.

Someone was kneeling by the outer lock of the cage. Their face was half-hidden under a dark hood, shadows masking their features.

I stepped forward cautiously. “Who are you?”

The figure didn’t answer. Their fingers moved deftly, almost glowing faintly as they touched the lock. A low hum rippled through the air. The silver veins across the bars pulsed once — then went dark.

The lock clicked.

I stared. “How did you—”

The hooded stranger stood. Their voice was low, urgent. “You need to leave. Now.”

My chest tightened. “Where am I? What do you mean ‘leave’? Who are you people?”

“No time.” The voice was firm but quiet — definitely female. “They’ll sense if the door stays open too long. Go back the way you came.”

“The way I came?” I scoffed, glancing around. “I came through a forest that didn’t look like this.”

She hesitated, then reached into the shadows and handed me something small — a faintly glowing shard, cold against my palm. “Keep this close. It will guide you when you near the threshold.”

I frowned, confused. “Threshold?”

“Go.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My brain was firing questions faster than I could process. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. One minute I’m tracking my drone, next I’m in some underground freak show. What are you people—”

“Quiet.”

Her tone shut me up instantly.

Footsteps echoed again down the hall — this time closer. More than one set.

The hooded figure straightened, her scent — something faintly metallic and sharp, like rain and fur — cutting through the air. “Go now, human. Before she realizes you’re gone.”

“She?” I repeated, but she was already moving back into the shadows.

The moment her presence faded, the lock on the cage clicked fully open.

I hesitated only a second longer before pushing the door. It creaked, loud enough to make my stomach clench.

The tunnel ahead was long and dim, lit only by pale reflections from the moon filtering through cracks in the stone. Every instinct screamed to stay quiet.

I crept forward, sneakers soundless on the dirt floor. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Behind me, faint voices began to rise again — confused, angry. Someone must’ve noticed.

I quickened my pace.

The tunnel forked ahead — one path curving upward, glowing faintly with silver light, the other descending into darkness. I clutched the glowing shard tighter, and it flickered faintly, pointing toward the light.

I followed.

The tunnel narrowed, air thinning. Then, finally, I saw it — the forest again. The same trees, but… different. Their bark shimmered faintly, and the moon overhead looked impossibly large, like it was watching me.

I stepped through, the night air sharp and cold against my face.

For a second, everything went silent. Then I felt it — a strange pull in my chest, like a string tightening deep inside me.

I pressed a hand to my heart. “What the hell…”

The world tilted. For a heartbeat, the moon flared brighter, blinding me — and when my vision cleared, the forest looked normal again. No shimmer, no strange air.

I turned, half expecting the den entrance to still be there. But it was gone. Just rocks and trees.

Like nothing had ever existed there.

My head spun. I staggered back until I hit a tree, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold ground.

I needed to get my bearings. Think.

My smartwatch still worked — 2:47 a.m. No service. My drone controller, miraculously, was still strapped to my wrist. The signal had stopped pinging somewhere east of here, which meant…

I was miles from home.

I closed my eyes, forcing my breath to steady. “Okay, Rhett. You’re fine. You just—hallucinated, maybe. Gas leak. Mushrooms. Something. Not glowing-eyed wolves or portals.”

Except the shard in my hand still pulsed faintly.

I turned it over in the moonlight. It looked like glass but held shifting silver light inside, like trapped smoke. It felt alive.

And when I focused too long, I could almost hear something. A heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

I dropped it instinctively, breath catching.

The forest was too quiet. No crickets. No owls. Just the faint hum of wind in the leaves.

My neck prickled. I looked around, scanning the darkness, half expecting golden eyes to blink at me from the trees. Nothing.

But I could feel them. Watching. Waiting.

I shoved the shard into my pocket and stood. “Screw this.”

The path looked familiar enough. I started walking, ignoring the pounding in my chest, telling myself it was just fear, not some invisible string pulling me backward.

Every few steps, the mark at my neck tingled — faint but persistent, like static beneath my skin. I rubbed at it, muttering, “Probably a scratch. Allergic reaction. That’s all.”

But I didn’t believe it.

Because somewhere deep in my gut, I knew I’d crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to.

By the time I reached the edge of the forest, the horizon was paling with the first hint of dawn. My shoes were soaked, and every muscle ached, but I didn’t stop until I saw the faint glow of the town lights far beyond the hill.

Civilization. Reality. Sanity.

I kept walking until the trees thinned completely. Only then did I look back.

The forest behind me was still. Peaceful. But under the fading moonlight, I could’ve sworn I saw something — a figure standing among the trees, silver hair catching the last light before vanishing completely.

I blinked. Nothing there.

Just exhaustion and imagination.

I ran a hand over my neck again. The skin there felt warm, almost feverish.

“Definitely need sleep,” I muttered.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and relief washed over me when I saw Ava’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” I said, breathing out. “I’m fine. Went to retrieve the drone—it crashed somewhere out here.”

Her voice came sharp with worry. “Rhett! I told you to stop flying those things in the woods!”

I smiled a little, even though she couldn’t see it. “I know, babe. I’m heading back now.”

Her sigh softened. “Just… be careful, okay?”

But as I started down the road toward home, the faintest sound followed me — something deep and low, like a growl carried on the wind.

It faded as the dawn broke, but the unease didn’t.

Because somehow, I knew this wasn’t over.

And whatever I’d walked into under that full moon — it had followed me back.