Romans & histoires Chained Wolf

I follow the sound around the side of the house, past the trees, until I reach the outskirts of the pack… and then I freeze. Jake's wolf. He’s massive, all muscle and wild fury, snarling and thrashing like a storm no one can contain. His fur bristles with rage, and his eyes... they’re completely taken over by something feral. And what the hell... chains? Actual metal chains are wrapped around him, digging into his fur as a bunch of people try to hold him down. They’re failing miserably. He yanks and shakes, sending two guys flying like rag dolls. He’s wild. Uncontrolled.

"Steel Serpents have the high ground here. Twenty wolves, three snipers. They're dug in with heavy weapons." He shifts to the eastern valley. "Crimson Riders are here. Thirty wolves, mostly close-combat specialists. They're the muscle." South highway shows next. "Black Chain controls the road. Twenty-five wolves. They've got bikes and trucks for rapid response." Finally, the western creek. "Devil's Bones are the smallest group. Fifteen wolves, but they're sadistic bastards and are torture specialists." "That's ninety wolves accounted for." Cass does the math. "Where are the other hundred and ten?"

Her wolf was chanting only one thing. 'MATE'

“Fuck! I thought that wolf was harmless!” “That's not important right now, listen,” Knox muttered gazing at the chain they used in bonding them. He has tried breaking free from it several times, but it looks like this wasn't an ordinary chain. Of course, it wasn't! Alec has chosen a chain they usually use in locking up werewolves who have lost their human side and are living based on their feral primal instinct. When Rakel realized the number of Rogues heading their way, he cursed. “Damn it, we need to get out of here! Get this thing off me, vampire!” He hissed as his skin burned.

They had answered the call. The leader of the eastern packs was a massive wolf named Alpha Thorne. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver-streaked hair and eyes the color of steel. He dismounted and walked toward Elara, his boots crunching on the frozen ground. "Queen Elara," he said. "I am Alpha Thorne of the Eastern Reaches. I have brought three hundred wolves to join your cause." Elara inclined her head. "Welcome, Alpha Thorne. Your aid is most welcome."

Wolves are pack animals, but in these meetings, every one is out for its own throat. Wren sits chained to the stone bench at the center, a focal point designed to amplify shame. They left her wrists raw with the old silver, the kind that bites and lingers even after the cuffs come off. She’s hunched, head down, the mop of her hair hiding most of her face. I tell myself I’m glad I can’t see her eyes, that it makes this easier.

Two guards appeared in the door and the Alpha simply said, “Chains, two weeks.” Brandt’s face paled, and the Elder shouted, “No, you can’t do that! I am an Elder, and I refuse to stand by while you shackle my son in silver.” I realised now what was happening. Silver chains were the ultimate punishment. Not only do they burn like crazy on a werewolf, but they leave you practically human, and a weak one at that. No shifting, no mind linking, no healing, nothing. You can’t even communicate with your wolf. The Alpha looked at the Elder and said,

she said shortly, raising her voice at the last bit of the word, making it sound sarcastic. I looked around and there were just one window, a table and a chair below it. Nothing more. Since I was still stuck in chains I wondered why they kept me in them. "May I ask why you are keeping me locked in these?" I lifted my feet as I stood up from the corner and pointed at the chains. "Sometimes certain werewolves get uncontrollable so we keep them in chains until they start getting used to their wolf. Most of us become werewolves first but if we remain pure we become wolf meaning we would be more in control and more gentle," she explained.

She was saved though, but that's beside the point. Andy was a guy few people crossed and lived to tell the story. I am one of those few. Some people will call it foolhardiness, but I call it listening to the voice in my head. Andy was the kingpin in the biggest, baddest gang in the town. They're called Silent Whisperers because they don't talk too much. But when they act, it's total, unbridled carnage. I have no idea why I listened to the voice, but I did and that's the whole point of this. I strolled into the arms of the wolf like a lion surrounded by a pack of wolves. Rule number one and two, the only one you need to know,

His foreleg was stretched out awkwardly, a smear of red on the leaves beneath it. And around his torso, cinched cruelly tight, was a chain that caught my flashlight like moonlight trapped in metal. Silver. I knew it instantly, not because I’d ever seen a wolf chained like this, but because it gleamed too cleanly, too pale, too deliberate. It wasn’t rusted. It wasn’t old. It looked like someone had brought it here with purpose. The chain ran around him and back to the tree, padlocked. He lifted his head when my light hit him. A growl tore out of him. Raw and broken around the edges, but he didn’t lunge. He couldn’t. The chain held him like a command. My heart hammered so hard it hurt. “Oh my