Chapter 7: Captured as a Gift

(Penny’s POV)

I barely slept. Every creak of the wooden beams made me bolt upright, convinced claws were about to rip through the door. Every distant howl, real or imagined, sent my heart racing all over again.

By the time the first gray light seeped through the cracks in the boards, I was already sitting on the edge of the cot, backpack between my feet, staring at the sliver of dawn like it owed me answers.

Mara came for me just as the roosters started crowing. She carried a tin mug of something hot and a heel of dark bread wrapped in cloth.

“Eat quick,” she said, voice low. “Eldric wants you gone before the village wakes proper.”

I nodded, took the mug, herbal tea, bitter but warm, and tore into the bread. It was dense, chewy, nothing like the fluffy sandwich bread back home, but it filled the hollow in my stomach.

“Thank you,” I said between bites. “For everything.”

She studied me with tired eyes. “You’re young. Too young for this world. Whatever brought you here… it’s cruel.”

I swallowed hard. “I just want to go home.”

She didn’t answer. Just opened the barn door wider. “Come. Eldric’s waiting by the well.”

I followed her across the dew-soaked grass. The village was stirring, doors creaking open, smoke rising from chimneys, children rubbing sleep from their eyes. A few people glanced my way, then quickly looked elsewhere. Like I carried plague. Or worse, hope.

Eldric stood beside the stone well, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Beside him was another man, younger, wiry, with a scar that ran from temple to jaw. He carried a coiled rope over one shoulder.

My stomach twisted.

“You said I could leave at first light,” I reminded Eldric.

“You can,” he said. “But not alone.”

The younger man stepped forward. “We’re taking you to the ridge trail. It leads north, away from both packs. If you’re lucky, you’ll reach neutral lands before nightfall.”

I relaxed a fraction. “Okay. Thank you.”

Eldric’s gaze flicked to the rope. “We’ll bind your hands. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case someone sees us with you and thinks we’re harboring a Silverfang sympathizer. Or worse—a Luna.”

The word hit like ice water.

“I’m not—”

“You helped their prince,” the scarred man cut in. “Word travels. If the Crimson Claw finds out—”

“They won’t,” Eldric said sharply. Then softer, to me: “It’s for your safety as much as ours. We tie you loose. You can slip it if you need to run.”

I looked at the rope. Looked at their faces—exhausted, scared, desperate people trying to survive between two monsters.

I held out my wrists.

They tied me quickly. Not tight enough to cut circulation, but enough that I couldn’t just shrug it off. The scarred man, Torin, took the lead. Eldric walked behind me. Mara stayed at the well, watching us go with an expression I couldn’t read.

We moved single file down a narrow path that wound between houses, then out past the last garden plots and into the trees again. The morning was quiet except for birds and the crunch of boots on gravel.

I kept my head down, trying to look meek. Trying not to think about Genesis waking up alone in that cave, wondering where the strange human who patched him up had gone.

We’d been walking maybe twenty minutes when Torin stopped abruptly.

Voices ahead. Low. Urgent.

Eldric cursed under his breath.

Three men stepped onto the path—two older, one barely out of his teens. They wore rough leather vests, knives at their belts. Crimson Claw scouts, by the red armbands.

Torin’s hand went to his own knife.

The lead scout, a broad man with a braided beard, smiled. It wasn’t friendly.

“Morning, Eldric. Taking a walk?”

Eldric’s voice stayed calm. “Just escorting a stray to the ridge. No concern of yours.”

The scout’s eyes slid to me. Lingered on my bound hands. My blood-stained hoodie. The backpack.

“She smells wrong,” he said. “Not village. Not pack. But… interesting.”

My mouth went dry.

Torin shifted, blocking me slightly. “She’s leaving. That’s all you need to know.”

Braided Beard tilted his head. “Our alpha’s offering amnesty to any village that brings tribute. Food. Weapons. Or…” His gaze settled on me again. “Something rarer.”

Eldric’s shoulders stiffened. “We have nothing for your alpha.”

“You have her.” The scout nodded at me. “A human who stinks of Silverfang blood. The alpha will want to know why.”

Torin drew his knife halfway.

The scouts laughed, short, ugly sounds.

“Don’t be stupid,” Braided Beard said. “We outnumber you. And we’re not here to kill. Yet.”

I felt the shift before I saw it.

Eldric’s hand closed on my arm, hard.

“Forgive us,” he said quietly. To the scouts. Not to me.

Then, louder: “She’s yours. Take her.”

Torin’s knife clattered to the dirt.

I stared at Eldric. “You said—”

“I said we can’t keep you,” he whispered, eyes full of regret. “I didn’t say we’d die for you.”

The scouts moved fast.

One grabbed my backpack, yanked it off. Another cut the rope binding my wrists—only to loop fresh cord around them, tighter this time. Braided Beard gripped my chin, forced my face up.

“You’ll do nicely,” he murmured. “The alpha likes gifts that squirm.”

I jerked away. “Let go of me.”

He laughed again.

They marched me back toward the village, not the way we’d come, but a wider path that led straight to the central square.

People watched from doorways. No one spoke. No one helped.

Mara stood by the well again. When our eyes met, she looked away.

They dragged me to the largest house, a long hall with a thatched roof and smoke curling from the chimney. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and roasting meat.

A man waited at the far end, tall, red-haired, eyes the color of old blood. He wore a cloak made of wolf pelts. Crimson Claw alpha. Kael, I remembered from my manuscript. The one who burned villages for sport.

He rose slowly.

Looked me over like I was livestock.

“Who is she?” he asked.

Braided Beard shoved me forward. I stumbled, caught myself on my bound hands.

“A wanderer,” he said. “Helped a Silverfang. Carries his scent. Thought you might want first taste.”

Kael circled me. Slowly.

Sniffed the air.

Then leaned close, too close, and dragged his tongue along the side of my neck, tasting the sweat and fear and dried blood.

I recoiled so hard the ropes bit into my wrists.

“Eww! That’s disgusting!”

He grinned, teeth too sharp.

“You’re no ordinary human,” he said softly. “You’re something more.”

He stepped back. Looked at his men.

“Clean her up. Feed her. She’s not for tonight’s table.”

Relief flickered, then died when he added:

“She’s a gift. For the king.”

The room went still.

Even the scouts looked surprised.

Kael smiled wider.

“The Crimson Claw will present the last Luna to His Majesty himself. And when he claims her… our clan will rise again.”

I stared at him, heart hammering.

Luna.

They thought I was a Luna.

And they were going to give me to the werewolf king.

Like a Christmas present wrapped in rope.

Torin and Eldric had sold me out for survival.

And now I was being marched to a cage, actual iron bars in the corner of the hall, while the alpha’s men laughed and talked about how pleased the king would be.

I sank to the floor of the cage, knees to chest, and tried not to cry.

Because crying wouldn’t get me out.

And something told me the real nightmare was just beginning.