All Chapters of Survivor of Nightshade: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

After watching everyone make their way off the bus, I slowly forced my aching body to stand so I could follow behind them. That in itself is fucking torture. I know that once I get to my room, I’m going to have to take a shower because I can already feel the wounds on my back and thighs have opened up again. That’s the main reason I wore a black hoodie, dark jeans, and heavy cologne. Even though July weather is hot and stuffy, the dark clothing helps hide any bloodstains, and the cologne helps cover the scent.I let out a quiet chuckle at my own cleverness.At least I had the foresight to plan ahead.Stepping off the last step, my knees damn near give out, and a wave of panic hits me.Just as I think I’m going to fall, a large hand catches mine and a strong arm—dense in tattoos—wraps around my waist, stabilizing me before I hit the ground.Glancing up through my bangs, I lock onto a pair of silver eyes.My breath catches in my throat, and my heart skips a beat.Alpha Colt Eldritch.A

As I follow behind them, I notice them glancing back at me from time to time. I’m sure they’re just making sure I’m still following, since my footsteps don’t make a sound. I had a lot of training back home to walk without making any noise. I didn’t want to alert anyone to my presence, or there would be hell to pay—though it’s not like I could get away from it anyway. My home pack is my prison, and I am one of its many prisoners. Man, that thought process is depressing. I wish my brain would just stop dragging me back to the negatives.I make it back to the other trainees from my group and slip into the crowd. Someone catches my eye; my best friend, Roth Evans—a Beta from my home pack. His medium-length, light brown hair catches the sun and takes on a soft, golden-honey hue. He always styles it casually, giving him a slightly untamed, wild look. He’s the one I can go to for anything, and though we’re not related by blood, we treat each other like brothers. He and his family are one of

I suck in a breath, steadying myself, and slowly start to peel off my hoodie and shirt. The motion alone makes my ribs scream in complaint, a sharp reminder that nothing about my body is cooperating right now. My eyes sting before I even look up. I can feel it coming—that tight pressure behind my eyes, the kind that means I’m about to break. After I finish undressing, I stand still for a moment before forcing myself to look in the mirror. The reflection stares back at me like it belongs to someone else—disgusting.My whole chest, ribs, arms, and legs are covered in bruises—layered shades of blue, purple, yellow, and sickly green, overlapping like stains that never fully fade before the next one appears. None of them look the same; some are older and dulling at the edges, others still dark and fresh enough to ache even when I barely move. Lacerations and raised welts cover the front of my thighs, along my chest and stomach from the signature whip that my father loves to use during his

I look back over at my brother and notice his hesitation. He clearly wants no part of this. He’s only an inch shorter than our father, standing at six-foot-eight. His medium-length black hair looks damp, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck before disappearing beneath the collar of his black T-shirt. The scent of his cedar body wash cuts through the thick smell of blood that coats the room. He must have just finished sparring on the training grounds and cleaned up before being called here.His fists are clenched tightly at his sides. When his gaze flickers toward our father, I catch a brief flash of disgust and hatred in his slightly narrowed eyes."Alpha Ramulfus, are you sure he can handle anymore?" he asks, his voice noticeably strained. "It looks like he's moments away from losing consciousness."I lower my gaze and focus on his hands. They’re trembling slightly as he repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists in a slow, rhythmic motion, as though he's struggling to kee

Colt and I walked out of the training hall. We head toward the drop-off zone, and a sense of unease creeps in. I glance to the side and notice Colt is feeling it too. His left foot taps lightly against the ground, his arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and his jaw is set with a faint furrow in his brows.Damn. What is this uneasy feeling?I lift my wrist and check the time on my watch.Just as my nerves feel stretched to their limit, I spot the buses coming into view. I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Colt and I share a knowing glance.The buses pull up in front of us, and the other instructors move into position, ready to greet their assigned trainee groups. The sound of brakes cuts through the air, followed by the hiss of the doors opening.Colt and I take long strides forward and step up the three stairs onto the bus. I move to the front and position myself at center view. Scanning the faces of the Nightshade trainees, I can already tell most of them are coc