They took me away from the light.
The path sloped downward, winding through thick trees and exposed roots that snagged at my boots. The further we went, the quieter the forest became, not empty, but watchful. The pack's clearing disappeared behind us, swallowed by shadow, and with it any illusion that I might be seen as something other than an intruder.
The woman's grip on my arm never loosened.
"You don't need to drag me," I said weakly.
She didn't slow. "If you fall behind, you'll get hurt."
That wasn't concern. It was logistics.
We reached a cluster of low structures half-dug into the earth, built of stone and dark wood, moss creeping along their edges like the forest was reclaiming them inch by inch. Dim lights glowed behind narrow windows. The air here smelled different, less open, heavier with bodies, sweat, and something sharp beneath it all.
The lower quarters.
"This is where we put problems," the woman said, finally releasing me. "And weaklings."
My chest tightened. "I didn't ask to be here."
She turned, eyes flashing faintly in the dark. "No. You asked to live. This is the price."
She shoved open a door and motioned me inside.
The room was small but not crude. A narrow bed, a rough table, a basin of water. Stone walls curved slightly inward, the ceiling low enough that it felt like it was pressing down on me. The door slammed shut behind us with a final, echoing thud.
I flinched.
"You'll stay here," she said. "Someone will come for you at dawn."
"At dawn?" I echoed.
Her lip curled. "If you make it that far."
Before I could respond, she turned and left, the sound of her footsteps fading quickly.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.
Then my knees gave out.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands clenched so tightly in my coat sleeves that my fingers ached. The silence pressed in on me, broken only by the distant sounds of movement, voices, footsteps, something heavy passing overhead.
I was inside their territory now. Inside their world.
And I had never felt so small.
I forced myself to breathe, slow and shallow. Panic would only make things worse. I knew that much. I had survived the night in the forest by clinging to logic, by acting instead of freezing.
I had to do the same now.
I stood and explored the room, counting steps, touching the walls like that might make them less real. No windows. No obvious exit besides the door. The basin water was cold but clean. When I splashed some on my face, my reflection wavered in the dim light.
For a moment, I didn't recognize myself.
My eyes looked darker, shadowed, but when I leaned closer, I saw it again, that faint glimmer beneath the brown, like gold buried too deep to shine properly. My cheekbones looked sharper. My skin, though pale, seemed… tighter. As if it didn't quite fit the way it used to.
I straightened abruptly, heart pounding.
No. I wasn't ready to look too closely yet.
I sat back down on the bed, curling inward, and waited.
Time passed strangely. I couldn't tell how long I'd been there when the ache started, low and insistent, curling through my abdomen and spine. It wasn't like the agony of the first night. This was quieter.
More controlled.
More deliberate.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, breathing through it.
"You're not real," I whispered. "You're just… symptoms."
The ache pulsed in response.
I gasped as heat rippled outward from the center of my chest, not painful, but intense enough to make my breath hitch. My senses sharpened again, the room snapping into vivid clarity. I could hear heartbeats now and not just my own, but others. Multiple. Steady. Alert.
They were listening.
I didn't know how I knew that. I just did.
The realization sent a shiver through me, but beneath the fear was something else and curiosity. A strange, unwelcome sense of awareness, like a new muscle twitching for the first time.
I focused on it.
The ache settled slightly, as if pleased by the attention.
The door opened without warning.
I jumped to my feet, heart racing.
It wasn't the woman this time.
It was him.
The alpha ducked slightly as he stepped inside, his presence filling the small space until it felt like there was no air left. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms folded, gaze sweeping over me.
"You're still standing," he said.
"I wasn't aware that was an achievement,"
I replied, my voice unsteady but intact.
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. Or surprise.
"Most don't manage it their first night."
"Most people don't get kidnapped by werewolves," I said before I could stop myself.
The words hung between us.
His mouth twitched. "Fair."
He studied me for a moment longer, then straightened. "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm being tested," I said.
"That's because you are."
The honesty of it made my stomach twist.
"And if I fail?.
"Then this ends quickly."
I hugged myself, trying not to shake. "You don't even know what I am yet."
His gaze sharpened. "That's why you're still breathing."
He stepped closer, and the air seemed to thrum with his proximity. My instincts recoiled, then leaned forward, confused and raw.
"Look at me," he said.
I hesitated, then lifted my eyes to his.
The pressure hit me again, heavy, commanding, a presence that demanded acknowledgment. My knees weakened, and I had to bite down on my lip to keep from looking away.
"There," he murmured. "You feel that, don't you?"
"Yes," I whispered, ashamed of how small the word sounded.
"You're responding," he continued. "But not the way you should."
I frowned despite myself. "What does that mean?"
"It means the curse didn't overwrite you,"
he said. "It's… adapting."
My breath caught. "Is that bad?"
His gaze lingered on my face, searching.
"That depends on whether you break before it finishes."
He stepped back, the pressure easing enough that I sucked in a shaky breath.
"You'll train," he said. "You'll be watched. Closely."
"And if I refuse?" I asked.
He smiled then, not kindly.
"You won't."
He turned to leave, then paused with his hand on the door.
"For what it's worth," he added, not looking at me, "you don't smell weak anymore."
The door closed.
I stood there in the silence, heart racing, his words echoing in my mind.
Not weak anymore.
I sank back onto the bed slowly, pressing my hands to my chest.
The ache stirred again, quiet, patient.
Listening.
For the first time since the forest, I didn't try to push it away.
I just breathed.
And somewhere deep inside me, something breathed back.