Chapter 5

His head throbbed, and his limbs felt extremely sore. Drops of water from the roofing zinc above, fell on his head. Logan opened his eyes slowly, he was lying in a pond of muddy water.

The last thing he remembered was the bullet, and Caine too. Caine stabbed him. “But where am I?” He asked himself.

He tried to get to his feet by throwing his muscular self up like he always did vigilantly when getting up from bed. However, his body felt too weak to even squat.

He grunted as he managed to get up by staggering. He had never felt this weak before. He gritted his teeth as he held onto the pole that was stuck in the ground. He swore that when he found Caine, he would kill him for this betrayal.

It was dark as night had taken over. The only thing illuminating where he sat was a streetlight. He looked around the unfamiliar environment. He didn't know which part of his pack that this was.

He squinted his eyes at the ramshackle houses, low cloth lines, the garbage dumped around and concluded that it must be one of those substandard areas for the poor. The slums perhaps.

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered as he crinkled his nose in disgust and began walking ahead. What startled him more was that he couldn't move as fast as he usually did?

As he walked, he touched the spot where he had been shot and there wasn't any sign of an injury. His skin felt different, even his palm felt different.

As he glanced at one of the houses, his reflection in the window stared back at him and he almost screamed. His hands trembled with fear and confusion.

He walked towards the window and touched his face. It was foreign. He blinked multiple times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

“Where did my chiseled face go? I had a scar on my left jaw, where is it? My eyes were never brown, they were black. And my hair, it was jet black, not red or whatever color this is.” Logan shrieked to himself as he studied the face he had never seen before.

He scrubbed his face hard as if trying to clean off the makeover on it, but it turned out it was just his face.

“Get out of there, omega boy. We don't have food today.” He heard a woman's voice shout from the house while he stared at their window.

“Trady, you're out roaming again. Your uncle has been looking for you.” Another woman said and held his hand, leading him with her.

He tried to detach himself from her grip, but that strength he normally had, seemed to elude him.

“Where are you taking me to?” He demanded.

She released her grip on his hand and turned towards him. “Your uncle of course. Or do you prefer I leave you there for Mike to beat you up again? Trady, you're weak and you should understand that you're no match for Mike. Follow me. There's food at home.”

Logan followed the young woman, not because of the incomprehensible jargon that she spilled, but because she mentioned food.

His stomach growled in hunger. After eating, he'd have the strength to demand an explanation, but for now, food was his priority.

He followed her to a house which looked less horrible than the ones he had passed by. Around the dinner table were plates with food, and people seated around eating.

“What's this fool doing back here?” Mike questioned as he stood up and lunged at Logan.

The woman who had brought him in, blocked Mike.

“Uncle asked me to find him.”

Mike huffed in anger and pointed a finger at the confused Logan before returning to his seat.

Uncle Sam, as everyone at the table called him, walked towards Logan and gave him a heavy knock.

Logan stumbled backwards and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

“You tried to run away, Trad. Mike was sent to pick you up and you fought with him.” He paused and laughed wryly. “It seems you've forgotten that you have weak legs and you can't run far.”

Logan grabbed the hurting center of his head and Uncle Sam pushed him forward roughly.

“Join the rest and eat. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Logan didn't move to the table. There were four other men like him on the table, all of them looking intimidating and harsh like Mike.

“Didn't you hear? I said you should join your cousins at the table, or do you plan to faint at the auction tomorrow.” Uncle Sam ordered and nudged him roughly again.

The men at the table paused eating and looked at him.

One of them snickered. “What's wrong with Trady?”

“He seems like he's forgotten himself.” Another laughed.

“Perharps, he's planning another escape.”

“But we need to make money off him, so he's got no choice.”

They laughed sarcastically.

Logan's fist curled into balls by his sides.

“Enough!” He shouted at the top of his voice. Logan was shocked when he shouted, because his voice sounded frail and shrill, too weak to be his own.

“Somebody explain this nonsense. Take me back to Moon Valleys packhouse. Is this how you treat your Alpha?” He folded his fist tighter, rage burned in his chest as tiny veins popped out in his hand.

The room grew silent, and suddenly, everyone burst out in laughter, including Uncle Sam and the woman who led him to the house.

“Are you going mad or something?” Uncle Sam said amidst the laughter.

“I think he's preparing for tomorrow's show.”

Their behaviour made Logan get even angrier, he stormed towards one of the men who had been taunting him and grabbed him by the shirt.

“You've had enough fun haven't you. Now, tell me, where is Caine?”

The man hit his hand off his shirt and widened his eyes, obviously shocked by his audacity.

“I see that some screws are loose in your head.”

That statement caused Logan to get even more infuriated. He lunged towards the man and blew him in the face.

The next thing Logan felt was a deafening hit on his head that almost blinded him.