Who Are You

Raven's POV

I don’t know how long I’ve been here anymore. The days blur together, each one identical to the last.

We are given stale bread three times and day and only allowed to bathe thrice a week.

There is no sunlight, no warmth, just cold stone and the scent of decay.

I’ve lost weight. A lot of it. My petite figure is now leaner and weaker. I chopped my hair off in a desperate attempt to regain some control.

In the beginning, I tried keeping track of time, scratching lines into the wall with a dull knife I found in the corner of my cell. I think I lasted three days before I lost count.

Ara, my wolf, has been silent for days.

I should be expecting my third loaf of stale bread for the day, but instead, the scent that drifts toward me makes my mouth water. Steak.

Rich, seasoned steak. Moon Goddess, the steak smells heavenly

I swallow hard.

But what if the steak was poisoned? I hesitated, bringing it close to my nose and sniffing cautiously. It smelled divine, rich and well-seasoned, nothing like the stale bread I’d been surviving on.

But honestly, would that be so bad? At least I’d finally get some rest.

I have nothing left to lose.

 No home, no future, and besides… I love steak.

So, I picked up the plate and devoured it within minutes, barely tasting it but savouring the warmth in my stomach. I even licked my fingers and cleaned the plate. That’s how low I’ve fallen.

When was the last time I enjoyed food? Enjoyed it? I can’t even remember.

My mind kept drifting back to the steak long after I finished it, my tongue still tingling from the lingering taste.

Who brought it to me? And why?

Was it out of pity or a cruel joke?

Whatever the reason, I found myself hoping they’d bring another, anything, besides stale bread.

I leaned against the cold, damp wall, staring at the empty plate like it held some kind of answer. My stomach felt full for the first time in days, but my mind was restless.

Who? Who did this?

None of the guards cared about us. I had seen them laugh as prisoners begged for scraps and watched them spit in the bread before tossing it into cells. They wouldn’t suddenly decide to be kind.

So was it another prisoner? Someone with connections? Someone who wanted something from me?

I let out a bitter laugh. What could I possibly have to offer?

My fingers traced patterns on the dirt-covered floor as I thought about it. The food could have been poisoned, but hours had passed, and I still felt… fine. No dizziness, no pain. Just exhaustion, which was nothing new.

Maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe someone else was supposed to get the steak, and some careless guard left it in my cell instead.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from hoping.

Maybe, just maybe, they’d bring more.

I had tried speaking to the guards, begging them to let me plead my case before the alphas, but none of them cared.

No one listened.

I wasn’t the only one though.

With tensions rising between this pack and the neighbouring Moon-shade Pack, every outsider was labelled a spy until proven innocent. But how could anyone prove their innocence when no one was willing to hear them out in the first place?

I was just about to drift into another restless sleep when I heard the unmistakable clatter of a plate hitting the ground.

My eyes snapped open.

I turned toward the door, my pulse quickening. There was a small opening at the bottom where food was usually passed through. I sat up quickly and crawled over, my stomach twisting with both hunger and suspicion.

Another meal.

And not just any meal, it was another plate of well-done steak.

I rushed to the door, pressing my face against the gap, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever had left it. But the hallway outside was dim, shadows stretching long under the weak torchlight.

I barely saw a flicker of movement before it disappeared.

Who the fuck was doing this? 

I hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the plate. My fingers tremble slightly as I picked it up.

My rational mind whispered that it could be poisoned this time.

But another voice—the one ruled by pure, desperate hunger—reminded me that if someone wanted me dead, there were far easier ways to accomplish it.

Brushing my suspicions aside, I grabbed a piece and took a bite.

It tastes really good and it is seasoned just right.

I devoured it within minutes, licking my fingers clean, not even ashamed of how desperate I looked.

Leaning back against the wall, I exhaled slowly.

This wasn’t a mistake.

This was the second time someone had done this

Someone was watching me.

And for the first time since being thrown into this hellhole, I had a reason to stay alert.

The next time it happened, I was ready.

I stood by the door, heart pounding as I listened for footsteps. The routine had become predictable—soft steps, a quiet clatter of the plate sliding through the opening, and then silence. But tonight, I wasn’t just waiting for food. I wanted answers.

The moment I heard the plate hit the floor, I spoke.

“Please, stay.” My voice was hushed but urgent.

The footsteps hesitated.

“Just tell me your name… and why you’re helping me.”

A long pause followed. I held my breath, afraid I’d scared them off. Then, finally, a voice came through the small opening.

“Caleb.”

My breath hitched. I knew that voice.

The guard.

The one who stopped the others from killing me when I first got here.

Before I could ask anything else, he spoke again.

“I’ll talk to you when they let you out.”

I frowned. “Let me out?”

“The yard,” he clarified. “You get an hour outside your cell once a week. Meet me behind the guardhouse. Not a second later.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I sank back onto the thin mattress, heart racing.

So, he wanted to talk.

But why? And what could he possibly tell me that would change anything?

I ate the food in silence, savouring every bite, though my mind was elsewhere.

I vaguely remembered being let out for an hour in my first week here, but I had been too exhausted to register anything beyond the weight of my misery. Now, I recalled it more clearly—the stretch of the barren yard, the sharp scent of damp stone, the guards watching us like hawks.

This time, I’d pay attention.

Not just to meet Caleb, but to study my surroundings, to find a way out if possible.

I knew  it wasn’t much, but it was something.

And right now, hope was all I had.