Travis hears them.
He hears it all.
It makes his blood turn to golden molten lava, and he slowly shifts forms, but still, his mind is one with the most basic instincts. A predator being hunted? That makes it even more delicious for when he catches those who seek him out.
"Let me out."
It's calm, collected, and the two figures standing outside the dungeon all turn almost startled, facing him.
"Travis," Liam sounds relieved. "fuck, this is not going too well. How are you feeling?"
"Let me out."
"o-okay alpha," the one with the keys starts opening the gates, and Liam looks like he wants to stop him.
"Liam, I am okay. I am me. But I hear people are trespassing. I want to see who it is."
"You could lose control."
Travis resists the urge to lunge for his friend. It wouldn't be the first time in the night, but to get out of this damned cage, he thought, was a good idea at the beginning of the night; he needed to show rationality.
"I am okay now. If he is here, then Day is alone. Safe for now."
It seems to be the right thing because they let him out. He is stark naked, but nakedness is something that is somewhat of a normality in his community.
Still, the man who came for them hands him some clothes, and Liam too dresses up. He doesn't wear shoes.
Crimson eyes towards the heavily forested lands in front of him, his eyes narrow.
He can smell them.
They have always smelt wrong to him. defective, like they are not well integrated with their inner selves.
He has heard that those of the other pack, a pack from another clan, one that lives far from here in the city, don't shift. There are tales about them, their descent, and how they are linked.
They do not interact or mingle, but live peacefully. A treaty was drawn up generations before to keep the two from colliding or even intermingling.
To each on their own, even though the very top pack is Travis'. The other clan isn't a native here, but they have property near them.
Good for business, something they understand since they live amongst humans too.
So, as much as territories are blurred because of all the species living in the lands, lines are still drawn, and laws are written down. You break them, you get yourself burnt.
Travis has always wondered about his fate. To get a true mate from the other clan, a clan that they have sworn that they will never intermingle or even interact with. And yet, since he was a pup, he used to break a few laws and seek out Day.
He trespassed, mingled, and took a mate from his worn enemy's land. All while he is still a pup and that-
He paid for it. still paying it.
Fate is a bitch.
Or, the gods are petty and love to play with him. It would explain why he has Marcus on his turf.
Or perhaps, tonight, the gods aren't playing with him. Perhaps they have another toy they are messing with.
Because only a stupid airhead would do what Marcus has done.
Travis grins as he shifts to his wolf form and follows the scent of the trespassers.
…
It's been hours.
Or, it feels like it has been.
He is still lying on the carpet, his body feeling cold, feeling filthy inside and out, and yet, he can't move. The invisible chains are still keeping him enslaved.
But, slowly, they start to lift off. He can move his legs, then his muscles all seem to awaken the more he shifts, until Day sits up.
He stopped crying a while ago, the numbness overtaking him in the second hour of the hell hole.
But now that he starts to feel like himself, the tears start all over again.
He is crying loudly, and then he starts to scream. He is screaming so loudly, as he stands up with shaky legs, scratching his face, his neck, his whole body. He can still feel the phantom hold on him.
He can still feel Marcus touching him, spanking him, and he hates it.
Oh gods, he hates it so much that he wants to claw his skin out.
He doesn't care that his fingernails are bloody from how much he is clawing at his own skin. He wants it off.
Off, off, off!
And the wail that has been lodged in his throat all this time breaks free, and Day bends down, as he screams himself hoarse.
Suddenly, he is moving all the decorations in his house.
Everything is a lie! Everything is ruined, and he hates it all.
His movements are jerky but strong as he sweeps off the able, glass shattering on the floor. He pushes the TV off, then the wine rack. Glass and red liquid spill on the floor.
He doesn't care or feel the glass as he steps on it, as it breaks skin and the shards lodge themselves in his heels.
No, he wants to mess it all up. He wants an outlet, and he wants to forget.
So he screams and breaks things.
He doesn't recognize himself, intent on destroying everything and himself all at the same time.
He can still hear all those things Marcus was telling him. he doesn't 3ant to hear it, but it's stuck in his brain like a loop. It's a nightmare, and he will be louder, if only to drown it all out.
He does not want to hear it!
He stumbles to the screen door that leads to the balcony, hair sticking to his forehead, as the cold night air hits his body.
He is still screaming, throat in pain, but he can't stop it. He can't stop it.
He is stuck in the horror that is his life, the past hours where he couldn't move, and he couldn't say what he wanted. Here, it felt like he had no control, and it reminded him of something.
Something that his brain is trying to keep it all out of his consciousness.
His body feels like it's being burned alive, and he can't stop screaming.