Trinity stood before the full-length mirror, a silent assessment in her eyes. One of the men from before had deposited a pile of clothes – practical, unadorned garments in a spectrum of solid colors: t-shirts, shorts, jeans, pants, sweaters. The directive had been simple: take what you need.
Considering their abrupt displacement, each room was surprisingly well-appointed, though the closets had initially been bare. Trinity had chosen a dark blue hoodie that fell just above her knees, paired with a plain white t-shirt and dark blue shorts.
Unlike Ryan, sleep had eluded her. The early morning light filtered through the window, but her wrists and ankles still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. A restless curiosity tugged at her, a desire to explore the unfamiliar house, to step outside. Yet, the courage to venture alone remained stubbornly out of reach. There was an unsettling quality about these people, their captors. Oddly, it was the other captives who offered a strange sense of normalcy. Whether it was their shared predicament or an unconscious recognition in their scent, a nascent feeling of community had begun to bloom. These unfamiliar thoughts and feelings made her wary of her own instincts, reinforcing her decision to remain within the relative safety of her room with the still-sleeping Ryan.
Hidden within the dense undergrowth in his wolf form, Kael remained unseen. He didn't need to see Trinity to know her movements. He could hear her restless pacing within the bedroom, the brief rush of the shower, the soft rustle as she opened their door to gather clothing. Every subtle sound painted a vivid picture: the almost imperceptible whisper of her brushing her hair. His senses remained acutely attuned to her, while he noted the continued stillness of the man she clung to. He slept soundly, too peacefully for Kael's liking. He couldn't fathom such unawareness from a male claiming a female as his mate. It was another stark difference between these defectives and true wolves like himself. Something he believed the beta would need to be made aware of.
Despite the unsettling comfort she found in the presence of the other captives, one scent among them sent shivers down Trinity's spine. Her senses, always acutely sharp, recoiled every time the familiar odor reached her nose. It was him. The faint yet unmistakable scent echoed that of her foster father, a nauseating reminder that clawed at buried memories. Thankfully, no one within the house carried that specific stench, but it lingered in the air outside, a constant, unwelcome presence. Each inhale resurrected those horrific memories: his wild, possessive gaze, his twisted endearment, "my faded one." He used to call her Jamie, a false name that had, for a time, eclipsed her own identity. Even as she sought the oblivion of sleep, shutting out the present world, she could still hear his phantom whispers, "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie," a sickening mantra echoing in the darkness.
Staying inside felt like the only safe option. Forgoing any exploration, she curled into a ball beside Ryan, who remained deeply asleep on the bed. An involuntary chuckle escaped her lips at his uncanny ability to find slumber anywhere. He was likely the only person here who slept with such untroubled abandon. He didn't understand the constant gnawing of captivity, the relentless torture that began the moment her eyes opened, stealing even the sanctuary of dreams. So, she found a strange comfort in his peacefulness, hoping his subconscious offered a respite her own mind denied. Not with that scent hanging heavy in the air.
A sharp bang reverberated through the hallways, followed by a booming voice announcing a house meeting, the sound of insistent knocking echoing down the corridor. Trinity couldn't imagine who would orchestrate such a gathering. Was it one of them, a self-appointed leader among the captives, treating their abduction like some bizarre summer camp?
Assuming the meeting was convened by their captors, she instinctively felt it was mandatory. Ryan, however, remained motionless. His nose twitched, but otherwise, he was lost in slumber. She envied his deep, untroubled rest.
Gently touching his shoulder, she shook him awake. His eyes fluttered open, and he stretched languidly, offering Trinity a soft smile. Ryan felt surprisingly refreshed, though the desire for more sleep still lingered. The brief respite would have to suffice.
"House meeting," she murmured, raising her eyebrows in question. Unsure what was awaiting them.
He frowned slightly, then nodded. She had thoughtfully brought clothes up for him, leaving them in the closet. It was as if, even in sleep, he had registered her movements. She watched as he went to the closet, retrieving the garments and changing with swift efficiency. A flicker of puzzlement crossed her face. He couldn't have been sleeping that deeply if he was aware of her actions within the room.
He wasn't self-conscious about stripping down in front of her. A strange detachment settled over Trinity. It had been so long since they had last seen each other, yet his partial nudity didn't elicit the surprise it perhaps should have. She simply looked away, her interest more academic than anything else. A naked Ryan was old news, a sight she had witnessed countless times before.
"Guess we're on the same wavelength!" he said with a hint of amusement, glancing between their similarly colored outfits. It almost looked as if they had coordinated. Reaching the door, he held it open for her before stepping out himself.
She followed closely, instinctively staying near him, using his presence as a fragile shield. She knew he wouldn't mind. On the lower floor, the gathered crowd consisted solely of the people from the bus. The menacing figures from their initial capture were nowhere in sight.
It was just them. Just the abducted. The sheer absurdity of a "house meeting" for captives almost triggered a hysterical laugh. Were they about to strategize their grand escape, undoubtedly involving the sacrifice of those deemed too slow?
Everyone squeezed into the large living room, which surprisingly accommodated them all with space to spare. Trinity gravitated towards the far arm of a large couch, perching on the edge while Ryan settled into a chair beside her, subtly positioning himself to create a barrier between her and the rest of the group. He moved with an unconscious protectiveness, keeping her isolated from any unwanted proximity.
A tall, middle-aged man stood before the large television screen. His face was stoic, etched with a weariness that belied his apparent composure. Streaks of gray threaded through his dark brown hair, lending him an air of weary maturity. He looked both angry and resolute, a man burdened by unwelcome knowledge. He seemed to be one of the older individuals present, likely in his late fifties.
"Did you call a house meeting?" a young teenage boy asked, his voice laced with irritation. Judging by his disheveled hair, he had clearly been roused from sleep. Trinity mused that there seemed to be another carefree soul in this strange place, besides Ryan.
Expressions of confusion and annoyance rippled through the assembled group, Trinity's among them. She glanced at Ryan, unsure whether they should simply retreat upstairs or seize this opportunity to explore now that he was awake.
The middle-aged man exuded an air of self-appointed leadership, a stern intensity that suggested he wasn't seeking a democratic consensus.
Jonathan felt a grim compulsion to take charge. They were naive lambs heading for slaughter, and most of these youngsters were blissfully unaware. He knew that if he spoke of the wolves outside, watching and listening, they would likely be silenced before he could convey the true danger surrounding them. Yet, he felt a desperate need to speak his mind, to give them a warning, so they might cling together and find a way out of this living hell.
"If you want to know what's happening, listen up," Jonathan Myers stated, his gaze sweeping across the room. If they told him to shut up, he would abandon them to the wolves – literally.
But he sensed their underlying fear, a primal unease that had hushed the room. Their silence offered a sliver of hope that not everyone present was utterly oblivious, or at least their curiosity outweighed their immediate annoyance. He truly disliked children.
"I'm only saying this because we're going to need each other. Believe what you want, but what I say is the truth. You all might feel like we're captives. And in a way, we are. But for some of you, this is where you were born. Your parents are here." He delivered the first, crucial piece of information. They needed to understand. They were supposed to be here. They had been abducted, yes, but only to be brought back home.
He allowed his words to settle, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air: why had they been brought here? And the truth was a bitter pill. They had been returned to families that had rejected them, to the very ones who had cast them out, choosing exile over their continued presence, if not outright death. Jonathan vividly recalled the night the law had been enacted. He had been in his small village in Russia, surrounded by people he had considered family, townsfolk he had known his entire life. They had turned on him with chilling speed. Their community had never been perfect, but they had accepted him as one of their own. Then, with a few words from some distant, powerful female, his life had shattered. Neighbors who had helped him survive brutal winters had shifted into their wolf forms, without a flicker of hesitation, disregarding years of shared camaraderie. They had rounded up all the defectives, bringing them to the village outskirts, fostering the illusion of mere banishment. But he had been wrong. He should have known better. They hadn't even been allowed to gather belongings. Some hadn't even had shoes. The moment they reached the border, the attack had begun: claws ripping through flesh, screams so piercing he felt his eardrums would burst. He wasn't proud to admit he had run, leaving behind younger children who couldn't move, who didn't understand the sudden, brutal betrayal. He had simply wanted to survive. He had been lucky; he had been an adult when the order came. A hard, isolated life had taught him how to survive without provisions, how to hunt. That had saved him. He knew how to hide from animals, and while the wolves were admittedly somewhat human in their other form, he could evade them as he would a bear. That was the sole reason he had lived. To his knowledge, he was the only one. And he felt no guilt. The ones who had attacked them should be the ones rotting in unmarked graves, not the defectives in his village, whom he had cared for as much as his own family. He knew they all shared a unique, painful reality, an experience that full-blooded wolves would never comprehend. That shared trauma had forged a bond between them. Not overt or pronounced, but a subtle undercurrent that permeated this room, a sense of calm that shouldn't exist among people ripped from their lives and thrust into this alien, green landscape.
"Our parents?" Trinity's mind reeled, bombarded by questions. She wanted to demand answers from this man. How did he know their parents were here? Why would their parents be here? Was everyone in this room an orphan?
"Let's just clear some things up. All of you are orphans. You're missing something critical. The gene that enslaves us to their Alpha dictators. So you were exiled by the pack. They call us defectives. Because we are different." Jonathan fought the urge to elaborate on what "different" truly entailed. With each word, he could sense the wolves outside drawing closer, ready to silence him at any moment. He was walking a razor's edge, and he knew it. Even though full-blooded wolves considered them useless, they failed to understand that their senses were beyond human comprehension. They couldn't heal instantly, but their bodies mended quickly. They couldn't smell a petal falling miles away, but they knew the scent of a wolf within their radius. They could feel their community, a subtle, unspoken bond that permeated this room, a fragile sense of calm that shouldn't exist amongst people who had been violently uprooted.
"What fucking gene could we be missing?" the same teenage boy asked, his tone a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
Some of the older individuals shot him irritated glances. Trinity, however, couldn't muster much anger towards the boy. She understood what the speaker meant by a missing gene. Like him, she had been exiled from her pack at an older age, cast out when she turned eighteen, when the law came into effect. It had been brutal. Too old to be considered an orphan, too young to know how to survive on her own.
"Everyone that you have met that isn't us has that gene. And none of them care about us. We are the freaks here. It's why we were not allowed to stay. But that isn't the problem." Jonathan found it increasingly difficult to suppress his rising panic. He knew what awaited them. How they would be treated. Soon enough, they would be tossed out again, if they were lucky. And if history repeated itself, they would all be slaughtered. He was too old this time. He didn't think he could survive another purge.
"Is this a community of scientists?" the young kid smirked, his ignorance a stark contrast to the grim reality Jonathan was trying to convey.
"I don't care if you believe me. You'll find out. What you all need to know while we're here is this: we are not safe. The guys will be target practice for the she-wolves. You girls, you will end up on your backs for the single males. Don't be fooled by the luxury. This is a brothel. That is what life is here. It's best you know now." He didn't care how young they were. They all needed to know.
He had heard whispers of what happened in larger packs before the exiles. Because female wolves often guarded their virginity for their mates, it created a problem for males with strong urges. While some sought human companionship, others, less controlled, often resorted to violence. In response to this, larger packs had reportedly used defectives as outlets for their desires, sex slaves in every sense of the word. They were also used as practice dummies, a way for young wolves to learn control over their strength without risking harm to their own kind. Why not test your power on something as fragile as a defective? The larger packs were barbaric in every sense.
Having delivered his stark warning, Jonathan left them to grapple with his words, to decide what they believed and what they dismissed as lies. Ultimately, it was their lives at risk. He didn't feel he had the right to dictate their next steps. Everyone exchanged uncertain glances, the weight of his words permeating the room.
Trinity's heart pounded in her chest. She wouldn't be used by anyone. She would fight tooth and nail. Had she escaped one nightmare only to be plunged into another? Was her life destined to be an endless cycle of pain and disaster, a bleak reality she could never escape? His words threatened to crush her spirit, to make her curl inward and simply cease to exist. She wouldn't be anyone's toy. Not again.
Knowing Jess would likely be feeling the same terror, Trinity's eyes scanned the room until they found hers. In that shared gaze, a silent pact was formed. They would not become victims. Walking over to Jess, Trinity took her hand, offering a comforting squeeze. Survival trumped past animosities and fleeting crushes. It might have taken a boy to fracture their bond once, but if there was one thing Jess and Trinity knew how to do, it was survive together. Only the other truly understood the full extent of the hell they had endured.
"We will be fine!" Jess said, her voice trembling slightly, more a desperate affirmation to herself than a confident declaration. The man's words had planted a seed of fear. Jonathan had sounded so certain, as if he possessed firsthand knowledge of their grim future.
Trinity's gaze flickered towards Ryan. But unlike everyone else in the room, he didn't appear startled. She studied his face. After Jonathan's pronouncement that they lacked a crucial gene, Ryan was one of the few who didn't look shocked.
"What do you think?" Trinity asked him, sensing that he held more knowledge than the two girls, yet for some reason, he remained stubbornly silent.
Ryan consciously schooled his features, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He knew more than most in this room, certainly more than Trinity, yet he had deliberately withheld information. He hadn't wanted to frighten her. She had lived a human life, and until he understood the full scope of their situation, he had been reluctant to shatter her perception of reality, to reveal the existence of a world far larger and more dangerous than she could imagine.
"This isn't the world you knew. He's right! We have to be careful here," he finally said, his voice strained. His primary concern remained his brother. He knew Grayson was alive, but he dreaded the inevitable moment his brother came searching. That was why his capture hadn't elicited the same fear as it had for others. He worried for his friends, but he knew Grayson would always find him. And as much as he loathed being trapped here, he desperately didn't want Grayson to find him. A rogue stepping onto another pack's territory meant certain death. And he knew his brother; Grayson wouldn't care about pack law. He would risk everything to ensure Ryan was safe. But the thought of Grayson's demise terrified him. So, he silently prayed to the moon goddess that his brother would remain unaware of his location.
His heart felt heavy, but he knew he couldn't say more, not yet. There was still so much he was concealing. He wasn't sure how Trinity and Jess would react once they learned the full truth, the things he had deliberately kept hidden. He knew Trinity possessed a fiercely unforgiving nature, and Jess was a force of raw fury when angered.