Chapter 6

Samara's POV 

The room reeked of sweat, shame, and something I couldn't place my fingers upon.

I laid still, staring at the ceiling, my body frozen even as my mind was racing with thoughts. His scent lingered on the sheets and it was suffocating.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I wanted to scream, to tear at the walls, to rip his heart out of his chest for doing this to me but I couldn't muster the strength to do any. My body, unwilling to move, unwilling to exist anymore in this cruel reality.

The sky outside had darkened, causing shadows to stretch long against the walls. My skin crawled with the sensation of his touch. I hated him but I hated myself more for giving in and enjoying it.

A knock on the door pulled me from my haze. The door creaked open, and two guards entered, carrying a tray of food. Its nice aroma filled the room, but my stomach twisted at the thought of eating. My throat was dry..

“She’s asleep,” one guard muttered.

“She hasn’t touched her food all day,” the other remarked.

“That is not our business.”

I forced my breathing to stay even, pretending to sleep as they conversed in hushed tones.

“The full moon is tomorrow,” the first guard murmured, lowering his voice.

“Not just any full moon. A blood moon,” the second whispered back.

A chill crept down my spine. A blood moon.

I knew what that meant. It was unpredictable and dangerous. The blood moon heightened everything in a werewolf—rage, hunger, desire. It stripped away control, turning even the most disciplined wolves into wild beasts.

“The Alpha’s ordered everyone into the ballroom for the night. No one’s allowed out.” The first guard spoke.

“What happens to the prisoners?” The other guard scoffed. “They're too weak to handle the intensity of the blood moon.” 

“They’ll be put to sleep. A special potion will be mixed into their meal. They won’t wake until morning.”

I couldn't afford to sleep. This would be a very good opportunity to escape.

After they left, I stayed up all night plotting my escape, going over the turns I'd take as security of the palace would be weaker.

I couldn’t let them drug me. I had to stay alert. If there was even the slightest chance to escape, I was going to take it.

The hours passed agonizingly slow, my body stiff from lying still for so long. Eventually, the night before the blood moon arrived. Just as the guards had said, they brought in trays of food and cups of tea that were spiked with the sleeping potion.

“Drink,” one of them barked at us.

I lifted the cup, feigning obedience. The liquid was warm, with an offensive odor and bitter taste. I tilted the cup to my lips but didn’t swallow, letting the liquid pool in my mouth. I kept my face straight, pretending to swallow before letting the potion dribble down the side of my mouth as if I were merely wiping my lips.

The guard watched me for a moment before walking away with a satisfied look on his face.

One by one, the other prisoners fell into a deep sleep. Their breathing slowed, their bodies relaxed against the cold stone floor, looking at them you could think they were dead. 

I remained still, waiting for the guards to leave. Minutes turned into hours and the pack house grew silent.

Slowly, I sat up. The room was pin-drop silent except for the soft breathing of the unconscious prisoners. My heart pounded as I scanned the cell.

 I needed a way out.

My fingers brushed against something rough near the wall. A small, rusty nail—barely more than a scrap of metal but it was sharp enough to graze my skin and I flinched. Despite the pain, I grabbed it. Pulling it out of the wall.

 I examined the nail. It was small, barely an inch long, but it was sharp enough. My breath hitched as I knelt by the cell door, heart pounding in my chest. The lock was old, worn out from years of use. I could use it to force the lock open.

I slid the nail gently into the keyhole, twisting and listening for the faintest click. The metal scraped against my palm and my palm was dripping with blood, my fingers cramping from the pressure. 

My mind raced, what if it broke? What if the guards came back? What if I'm caught?

Click.

The lock had broken.

 The cell door creaked open slightly, and I froze, my ears straining for any sounds of movement. Nothing.

I exhaled shakily and slipped out of the cell. The hallway was dimly lit, the torches along the walls flickering with weak flames. Shadows stretched across the cold stone floor, twisting and shifting as I moved.

I kept my steps light, my body pressed close to the walls. The prison was a maze of corridors, but I had memorized the guards' routes after countless nights of being locked away. I knew which turns to take, where to slow down, when to listen for approaching footsteps

I reached a narrow passageway. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old blood. It looked like nobody had walked in it for a long time. 

my best chance at escaping unnoticed.

I moved quickly, ignoring the exhaustion I felt in my limbs, the way my pulse roared in my ears and the ache of my bleeding hand. The passage led me to another hallway, and then, after what felt like an eternity, I found myself outside.

The cold night air made goosebumps appear on my skin but I was relentless. I had come too far to go back.

The sky glowed in different shades of red, the blood moon positioned itself like a watching eye. The compound stretched out before me, vast, open, but silent. Everyone was locked away, just as the guards had said.

This was my chance.

I tiptoed forward, my bare feet barely making a sound against the dirt. The gates were just ahead. If I could make it past them, I could disappear into the forest. Freedom was just within reach.

But then,

A hand tapped my shoulder.

I froze, trying my best not to faint at the shock. A shiver ran down my spine as I slowly turned, dreading whatever was going to happen to me.

Michael stood behind me.

My breath hitched. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

His piercing eyes glowed under the crimson moonlight, his face unreadable. His grip on my shoulder tightened, his body radiating what I could not explain. It seemed he was under the influence of the blood moon.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was low, dangerous.