Music Hunger Games Novels & Stories

Alpha Flynn's POV My stomach rumbled with hunger, a sharp, biting pain that wouldn't shut the fuck up. I stared down at the plate of cold rice and mystery meat, the culinary masterpiece served up by the fine establishment that was Knightstorm Pack jail. The rice was cold, a solid clump of reheated garbage. The meat? Who knew? Probably something they scraped off the bottom of Dominic's riding boots.

I feel the drool slipping out of my mouth as I let the put food in front of us. The plates land on the table one after another, and the second the maids step aside, the smell hits me—hot bread, grilled meat, herbs so strong they sting my nose. My stomach twists like it’s trying to claw its way out. I haven’t eaten since . . . hell, I don’t even know. Before the screaming. Before Dante pinning Serena to the wall by her throat like she was a fly he wanted to crush. I grip the fork too tight, fingers shaking. I pretend it’s nothing. Just hunger. Just nerves. Definitely not the Alpha King sitting across from me with tension still carved into his shoulders, his jaw clenched so viciously I swear I

polished metal, sharp corners, and on it… food. Hot. Steaming. Savory. My stomach twisted at the sudden influx of scent. Roasted meat, fresh bread, something spicy and tangy. It didn’t matter what it was, just that it was real. I stared at the plates, throat dry. They wanted me to eat. Was it drugged? Poisoned? Maybe. But if they’d wanted me dead, they had more than enough chances already. So maybe this was their next game. Fine. If hell was coming again after this, I’d at least face it with something in my stomach.

“And thank you.” I saw her aura change. Tension drained away, replaced by warm relief. She blushed and fled back into the crowd. We moved to the command table. Nathan, Abigail, and Damian were already there. My family, or something close to it. Damian was eating like a starving wolf, and the sight grounded me in a strange way. The illusion of normalcy. “The heroes return!” he announced around a mouthful of food. I sat beside Jake. The hunger that had been a dull ache turned feral the moment I smelled the food. The Core demanded fuel. Not just for my body, but for itself.

Hunger gnawed at every stomach, and the tension between pack and fractured ones tangled like smoke that refused to clear. Ava knelt by the fire, coaxing a small flame to life with the last scraps of dry wood. She had rationed out what little they had left—roots Silas had dug, dried strips of venison Caleb carried, bitter herbs Mara had gathered. It was not enough. It was never enough. The boy ate in silence, eyes darting to the others as though afraid someone would steal his portion. The bramble-haired woman licked her fingers hungrily, then tucked her hands under her knees, rocking slightly as if hiding her need.

She sat up slowly, biting back a groan as her muscles protested. Her stomach burned with a hollow, unfamiliar insistence. Hunger. Not the mild, background emptiness she’d known in the pack kitchens when Mara held back seconds from omegas. A sharp, clawed thing that had spent the night eating at the lining of her own belly. She reached for her bundle, fingers clumsy, and unwrapped it. Dried meat. Cheese, turning a little oily at the edges in the increasing warmth. Hard bread. The sight was almost enough to make her weep with relief.

Power hummed around her, different from Ronan’s but no less dangerous. “I am Mara,” she said. “Beta of Blackthorn.” “I don’t care,” I replied. One corner of her mouth twitched. “Good. It means you haven’t learned fear yet.” She gestured behind her. Two servants slipped in silently, setting down a tray of food and water. The smell hit me hard—meat, rich and bloody. My stomach twisted with hunger so fierce it startled me. I looked away. “You haven’t eaten,” Mara observed. “I’m not hungry.”

The Caloric Debt—the hunger caused by my regeneration—was back, clawing at my stomach walls. "Eat," Malik said, pouring a jug of water. "Your metabolism is demanding payment. If you do not feed the engine, it will consume the chassis." I didn't wait for manners. I grabbed a leg of roasted goat and tore into it. It was savory, rich, and perfectly spiced. I ate with a feral intensity, ignoring the grease running down my chin. I devoured bananas, mangoes, and chunks of bread. Eliana ate too, though more slowly. She sat close to me, her eyes darting around the room, analyzing the exits, analyzing Malik.

Rachael POV Hunger beat through my stomach so hard it felt like something alive was clawing at me from the inside. I grabbed my small bag with shaky fingers, the strap rough against my jaw. It had been too long since I’d eaten anything real, and every breath felt lighter than the one before, like my body was giving up little by little. If I didn’t find something soon, I knew I’d pass out. Maybe for hours. Maybe forever.