Chapter 1: Stolen

She jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest.

For a moment, she remained still, her hands pressed firmly against the cold ground, using it for support as she sat upright. A sharp pain surged through her body, causing her to wince in discomfort. The ache was everywhere, from her head to her feet, like every part of her had been bruised. She tried to steady her breath, but the air around her was heavy, suffocating in its stillness.

"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, though it seemed loud in the oppressive silence. Her eyes flickered around the dark, cramped space, struggling to make sense of her surroundings. There were no windows, no sign of the outside world, just darkness broken by faint streaks of light filtering through cracks in an iron door. She blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light, but the shadows loomed large and suffocating.

She rubbed her temples as a wave of confusion washed over her. How had she ended up here?

"What... what happened?" she mumbled to herself, her words trailing off as fragmented memories began to assault her mind. Flashes of the past slammed into her consciousness, each one more vivid and horrifying than the last.

A sudden, chilling realization hit her like a freight train.

"Oh God!" she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as the memories fully returned. She bent forward, her body shaking, clutching her knees as a sob wracked her chest. Tears threatened to spill from her tired eyes, but she fought to keep them back. Her hands trembled as they rubbed her worn jeans, her mind racing to piece together what had happened.

She had been taken.

Why? She couldn’t fully grasp the reasons. She had been doing what her parents had instructed her, fleeing with Jeremy when their pack had come under attack. It was chaos—the screams, the blood, the scent of fear thick in the air—and then darkness. Everything had gone black.

"Jeremy," she whispered, the name slipping from her lips before she realized it. Panic surged through her, and she frantically scanned the room again. Where was Jeremy? Her breath quickened, and she felt her heart race even faster. She couldn't bear the thought of him being hurt or worse. Jeremy had been her rock, her anchor ever since they’d discovered she was wolfless.

The memory of that discovery weighed heavy on her heart. It had come out of nowhere. The Pack's doctor had said it might be a temporary condition, but no one had been sure. The uncertainty hadn’t stopped the whispers or the bullying that followed. School had become a nightmare, her classmates merciless in their taunts. Even Kia, her childhood friend, had turned against her, joining in on the mockery without a second thought.

But Jeremy had stayed. He had been the one constant, the one person who believed in her when everyone else had turned their backs. Now, she had no idea where he was.

"Jeremy!" Her voice cracked as she struggled to decide whether to call out or remain silent. Was he even still alive? Were they both trapped here, or had he been taken somewhere else? She bit her lip, torn between the fear of alerting whoever might be listening and the desperation to find him.

Her body trembled as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away angrily, refusing to give in to the growing despair. She hadn’t escaped like her parents had begged her to. She had failed them, failed Jeremy, and now they were both in danger.

No. She couldn’t think like that.

She had to know if Jeremy was still alive.

Ignoring the stabbing pain in her muscles, she forced herself to her feet, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through her body. Her legs felt shaky, and she had to brace herself against the wall to steady herself. The cold metal felt alien against her palm, a stark reminder of her captivity.

"Jeremy!" she called again, louder this time. The echo of her voice reverberated through the dark space. She could hear faint grunts and groans from somewhere nearby, sounds that confirmed she was in some sort of prison.

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the murmurs. She wasn’t alone here. But she needed to find him. She couldn’t lose him now—not after everything they had been through together. Not after he had stood by her through all the humiliation and pain.

"Jeremy!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to spill. She refused to let herself believe the worst. He had to be alive.

But the silence that followed her call was deafening. No reply, no familiar voice to comfort her.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, her body trembling as she fought to contain the sobs that clawed at her throat. Was Jeremy dead? Were her parents dead? Who had taken them?

Who had sold them out? It had to be someone from the inside, someone who knew exactly where they were hiding.

Her lips moved without sound as she whispered Jeremy’s name again, as though saying it enough times would summon him. She buried her face in her hands, letting the tears flow freely now. She had lost everything—her family, her friend, and now the one person who had stayed by her side.

A loud bang jerked her out of her sorrow. Footsteps echoed from the hall, several pairs moving closer, the sound growing louder with each step. Panic surged through her as she scrambled back toward the wall, her body trembling violently. She kicked an empty plate as she moved, the sound clattering in the small room.

Her seizures were starting again.

Frantically, she reached into her jeans pocket, searching for the small white container. Her hands fumbled, but there was nothing. She cursed under her breath. They must’ve taken it when they captured her.

She pressed herself against the wall, wrapping her arms tightly around her shaking frame, trying to control her breathing. But her body refused to listen.

The door rattled, the sound of a heavy lock being undone sending chills down her spine. She heard a deep voice outside the door, cold and menacing.

"Where’s the one calling for Jeremy?" the voice growled.

The door swung open with a screech, revealing a hulking man, his dark eyes filled with malice. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room as he looked down at her.

"So, you’re the one," he sneered, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps.

Her body shrank against the wall as if she could melt into it. His eyes roamed over her small frame, and a twisted smile spread across his face.

"You’d make a good bed warmer," he leered, his voice dripping with cruelty. "The innocent ones always do."

Revulsion coursed through her, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Where’s Jeremy?" she demanded, her voice shaky but defiant.

The man’s hand lashed out, striking her hard across the face. She stumbled, tasting blood on her lips as her vision blurred.

"You speak when spoken to," he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Do you understand?" She nodded weakly, cradling her stinging cheek.

"You're lucky," he said, glancing toward the door. "He’s not dead yet. Bring him in!" he barked.

Her breath caught in her throat as the door opened once more, and Jeremy was shoved inside. He collapsed onto the floor, bruised and bloodied, but alive.

"Jeremy," she sobbed, her heart breaking at the sight of him.

"Olivera," he whispered, his swollen eyes barely open, but filled with relief at seeing her.

Chapter 2: Captured Shadows

Olivera's POV:

My breathing steadied, the tremors in my body subsided, and the chaos in my mind quieted slightly, even with the hulking man looming at the door. It wasn’t the absence of fear that calmed me; it was the relief of seeing Jeremy alive. He was battered, barely conscious, but alive. And that was all that mattered.

"Your mate, eh?" the man muttered, a devilish smile curling his lips. His words dripped with malice, each syllable cutting into my skin like shards of ice. "This will be fun." He turned, his heavy boots thudding against the cold stone floor as he exited the room.

I shuddered, the foreboding weight of his words sinking deep into my bones. But I pushed the fear aside. Jeremy needed me. He was curled up on the floor, his body writhing in pain, his breaths labored. What had they done to him?

Without thinking, I scrambled toward him, my knees hitting the hard floor beside his frail form. The smell of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the musty staleness of the room. I gently lifted his head, cradling it on my lap.

"Jeremy…" I whispered, my voice cracking. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over. My hands, shaking and dirty, ran through his tousled blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, Jeremy… I'm so sorry."

A sob lodged itself in my throat, but I choked it back. This wasn’t the time to break down. He needed comfort, not more pain. I began to hum, a soft tune my mother used to sing to me when I was upset as a child. The melody, simple and sweet, was the only thing I could think of to soothe him. It echoed off the walls, quieting the chaotic thoughts racing in my mind.

Slowly, Jeremy’s body stopped trembling. His breaths evened out, and for a moment, I thought he’d finally fallen asleep.

"Vera, don't blame yourself," he whispered suddenly, his voice hoarse but steady enough to catch me off guard. He wasn’t asleep, after all.

"But if I hadn’t tried to escape—" I began, but he cut me off, his fingers weakly gripping my arm.

"If you hadn’t, we would’ve been caught anyway. It’s not your fault." His words, though faint, held a firmness that left no room for argument.

I bit my lip, trying to fight the guilt that gnawed at me. Jeremy was always so sure, so steady in his beliefs. He had always been the one to pull me from the depths of my darkest thoughts, even when I didn’t think anyone cared.

"Vera," he called softly again, sensing my inner turmoil. "Yeah?" I muttered, my throat tight with emotion.

"You’re not at fault. You have to stop carrying that weight. Get rid of that feeling," he rasped, his breath hitching as the pain clearly continued to claw at him.

"Jeremy, stop talking. Save your strength," I urged, my fingers brushing the dirt off his cheeks. I didn’t care how filthy I was—nothing mattered except for him getting better.

"Did he touch you?" Jeremy’s voice was strained as he turned his face toward me, his startling blue eyes now clouded with pain and concern. He struggled to keep eye contact, but the effort was there.

I hesitated for a brief moment before answering, "No, he didn’t." There was no need to tell him about the slap. It was just a slap, one more in a lifetime of bruises—both physical and emotional—that I had learned to endure.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Good," he murmured, his voice trailing off as the effort seemed to exhaust him further.

"Jeremy, sleep," I whispered, this time more firmly. He needed to rest. His body was still weak, far too weak to keep speaking, and I could see the pain etched in every crease of his face.

Reluctantly, his eyelids fluttered shut, and his body relaxed against the cold stone floor. His right hand, which had been gripping mine, slackened, falling to the side.

I exhaled deeply, the weight of everything pressing down on me once more as I sat in the silence of the room. My eyes roamed the space, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand where we were. It was pointless—there were no clues, no answers. Just the darkness and the cold.

Who had taken us? Our old pack? Another one? My mind, dulled by exhaustion and the overwhelming surge of emotions, couldn’t focus long enough to answer the questions swirling inside me. I needed sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, my mind raced, refusing to give me peace.

Jeremy stirred beside me, and I glanced down, my heart heavy. He was my rock. The thought of losing him terrified me in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. I remembered when we first met, back in grade 12. He had been the hot transfer student, the nephew of our cruel Alpha. I had been nothing— just the outcast. The wolfless one. The nerd. The loser.

But Jeremy had changed everything.

When my little sister, Lisa, outed me to the entire school, my life had crumbled. I became the target of relentless bullying, the subject of every cruel whisper. Even my parents hadn’t stood up for me. Why would they? Lisa was their pride, the only child with a wolf. I was the cursed one, the mistake.

I had been on the verge of ending it all when Jeremy stepped into my life. It was a Friday afternoon, the day I had decided it would be my last. I had quietly taken a rope from home, walking out to the school’s garden, determined to end my suffering. The torment. The loneliness.

I had tied the rope to the tree, ready to jump, when a hand had grabbed my ankle. Startled, I slipped, but instead of hitting the ground, I fell into the arms of the most popular boy in school.

Jeremy.

I had known who he was—everyone did. He was kind, unlike the others, but we had never spoken before that day. He had looked furious at first, probably confused as to why someone like me would be doing something so drastic. But when he saw the tears, the pain I couldn’t hide any longer, he softened.

That was the moment everything changed. He had listened to my story—really listened. And from that day forward, he never left my side. He became my protector, my anchor.

A sharp grunt snapped me out of the memory, and I immediately leaned forward, my heart racing.

"Jeremy," I whispered, my fingers brushing his forehead, smoothing away the lines of pain and worry that creased his face.

"We’ll be okay," I murmured softly, more to myself than to him. "We’ll get through this."

I had to believe it. I had to, because without Jeremy, I wasn’t sure I could face this nightmare alone. "We’ll be okay," I repeated, the words a quiet promise.

Chapter 3: A Vision of Shadows

Olivera's POV:

There was a girl in my dream again. She looked like me—well, a more stunning, radiant version with a golden crest on her left arm. She was with a man, a figure so captivating that I could barely breathe, even in a dream. Tall, with the kind of physique that makes you stare for too long, they stood in a beautiful garden. I couldn’t see his face clearly—just glimpses from behind—but I was certain of one thing: the girl. She had my eyes, my hair. Was she my twin? A long-lost relative? I needed answers.

Before I could get closer, before I could figure out who she was, a loud bang ripped through the serene vision, and everything shattered. I felt a tug at my eyelids, like someone pulling me from the depths of sleep.

"Olivera…" Jeremy’s voice echoed distantly through my mind, pulling me further away from the dreamscape.

His touch was soft at first, but it grew firmer. I blinked, slowly opening my eyes, and there he was, his blue eyes looking down at me with concern.

"Were you dreaming again?" he asked, his hands gently guiding me to sit up. I realized I must have fallen asleep, mid-hum, my body slumped against the cold wall.

"Yeah," I murmured, still feeling groggy. The dream clung to me like a mist I couldn’t shake off. "The same one?" His voice held that knowing tone.

I nodded, a yawn escaping me. "The same one," I confirmed, though I still couldn’t understand why it haunted me. The beautiful garden, the girl who could be me, and the faceless man—what did it all

mean? I had told my mother about it once. She dismissed it as some fantasy I'd conjured up from reading too many romance novels. I hadn’t even bothered telling her the books were Lisa's, not mine.

Jeremy studied me for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "It could be a message," he finally said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

His words snapped me out of my daze. "A message?" I scoffed, shaking my head. What message could possibly be meant for me? The Moon Goddess hadn’t deemed me worthy of a wolf, so why would she care enough to send me dreams? I wasn’t exactly high on her priority list.

"Yeah, a message," Jeremy replied, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Maybe that man’s your mate."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, please. That guy? With me? Highly doubtful." The idea of a gorgeous, almost god-like man being my mate was absurd. I was the pack’s reject, the wolfless one. If anyone deserved a mate like that, it would be Lisa. It was always Lisa.

Jeremy sighed, clearly sensing my discomfort. He shifted the conversation, his eyes glancing toward the door. "Do you know where we are?"

I shook my head, grateful for the change in topic. "No idea. Do you?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the door. "Not yet, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out."

His tone sent a chill down my spine. I followed his gaze, staring at the iron door, but I couldn’t hear or sense anything unusual. "Why are we staring at the door?" I asked.

"Someone’s coming," he said, still focused on the entrance.

My heart skipped a beat. Jeremy’s wolf senses always picked up on things long before I could. I gripped his hand instinctively, my pulse quickening. "What should we do?" I whispered, fear lacing my voice.

"Whatever happens, don’t let go," he murmured, his grip tightening on my hand. "Jeremy…" I started, but he cut me off.

"Olivera, promise me. Don’t. Let. Go." His voice was steady, but the seriousness in his eyes unnerved me.

I nodded, unable to form any words. I could hear something now—a faint sound, like metal scraping against stone. My breathing hitched as the door began to creak open. Jeremy squeezed my hand again, a silent promise that he would protect me, no matter what.

The door swung wide, and a man stepped inside. He was different from the brute who had tormented us the night before. This one seemed… kinder, though I didn’t trust that for a second.

"Get up and follow me," the man ordered. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, as if he was used to people obeying without question. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.

Jeremy helped me stand, my muscles screaming in protest after hours of lying on the cold floor. Every step felt like a struggle, but I gritted my teeth and followed the man, my hand still clutched tightly in Jeremy’s.

The hallways were dimly lit and eerily quiet, except for the occasional grunt or sigh coming from behind closed doors. I shivered. We were definitely in some kind of prison or dungeon. The air was heavy with the stench of damp stone and despair.

After what felt like an eternity, we stepped out into the open. The fresh air hit me like a blessing, and I inhaled deeply, savoring the clean, crisp scent. My eyes scanned our surroundings. We were standing on a hill, overlooking dense forests that stretched out as far as I could see.

"Do you recognize this place?" I asked Jeremy, my voice barely a whisper.

His expression darkened, and he looked around carefully. "Maybe. But I really hope I’m wrong." The ominous tone in his voice made my stomach twist in knots. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated, his jaw clenching as he weighed his next words carefully. "The landscape looks familiar. It reminds me of a pack I’ve heard stories about… but I pray to the goddess that I’m mistaken."

"What pack?" I pressed, fear rising in my chest like bile.

Jeremy looked at me, his blue eyes filled with concern. "The Dark Shadows Pack."

I froze. The name alone sent icy tendrils of terror curling around my heart. I had heard the stories— everyone had. The Dark Shadows Pack was notorious for its cruelty, its ruthlessness. Wolves who crossed them rarely lived to tell the tale.

As the weight of Jeremy’s words sank in, the familiar sensation of panic began to claw at me. My breaths grew shallow, and my vision started to blur. The seizures, the ones I had fought so hard to control, threatened to overwhelm me again.

"Olivera, stay with me!" Jeremy’s voice cut through the haze, and he grabbed both my hands, grounding me in the present.

I forced myself to breathe, to focus on his face, on the warmth of his hands. "We’ll get out of this," he whispered, his voice steady, though I could see the worry etched in his features.

I nodded, trying to believe him, trying to hold on to hope. But deep down, I knew we were in more danger than ever.

Chapter 4: Unrelenting Fears

Jeremy’s POV:

The sight of Olivera shaking violently, gasping for air, her body unable to stop convulsing, made my heart race with an unbearable weight of fear. Her breaths were ragged, and her nails dug into my arm as she sought support.

“Where are your drugs?” I asked, my voice thick with panic as I fumbled through her pockets, desperate for something—anything—that would ease her pain.

But she didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide open, but vacant, and her body continued to tremble uncontrollably. She was slipping away from me, retreating into that dark, suffocating place her seizures always took her, and I couldn’t pull her back. Not like this.

“Vera, please! Don’t leave me like this. Do you want me dead?” I said, attempting a feeble joke, hoping my voice would reach her, pull her back from the edge. It had worked before. My words sometimes dragged her out of the darkness, even if only for a moment.

But this time, nothing. Her shaking didn’t stop.

*Damn it.*

“Hey!” a voice called out, and I looked up to see the man who had been leading us, now turning back, noticing that we had fallen behind. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he strode toward us, his boots making heavy thuds against the ground.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with her?” he asked, his gaze shifting to Olivera’s trembling form. His voice, though stern, held a hint of confusion.

“She—she’s having a seizure. I can’t find her medication,” I answered hurriedly, still holding onto her as she slumped in my arms, her body weakening.

“Seizure? What’s wrong with her?” the man asked, tilting his head as if trying to understand why a werewolf, of all beings, would suffer from such a human affliction.

“She’s wolfless,” I said softly, watching as realization dawned on his face. His eyes widened, just for a moment, before returning to their usual guarded expression.

“Wolfless? And she has seizures too? Damn, that’s unfortunate,” he muttered, looking down at her with something resembling pity.

I nodded silently, my jaw clenched. There was nothing more I could say. Olivera’s condition was something neither of us could fully explain. It had started when she was just ten years old—these unpredictable, relentless seizures that left her weak and vulnerable. No healer, no potion, no ritual had ever been able to rid her of them. And then, at eighteen, she’d discovered she was wolfless, compounding her pain with the cruel reality of our world. It was a curse no one could lift.

Her family, though kind in their way, had drifted. They had become resigned, distant. Her younger sister, Lisa, was now the golden child, while Olivera was often left to fend for herself. It wasn’t fair, but what in this life was?

“You two shouldn’t have been wandering near our lands,” the man said, crossing his arms, his eyes still fixed on Olivera. “What were you doing here?”

“We weren’t trying to. We were running—our pack was attacked, and we didn’t realize we crossed into your territory,” I said, hoping the truth would buy us some mercy.

“Attacked?” His eyes narrowed further. “What’s the name of your pack?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him the whole truth. If he knew we were rogues, that we had left our former pack behind to escape its cruelty, it might lead to worse consequences.

But lying wouldn’t help either. He was no fool.

“Red Moon Pack,” I answered finally, watching for his reaction. His expression didn’t change much, but I could tell he’d heard of it. Everyone had.

“Red Moon, huh? I see…” He nodded slowly, his gaze shifting back to me. “You’re rogues, aren’t you?”

I flinched at the word. It carried so much weight, so much judgment. Rogues were seen as traitors, outsiders—wolves who had no loyalty, no pack, no home. But that wasn’t who we were. We had left to survive, not to betray.

“Yes, we left,” I admitted, my voice low. “We couldn’t stay under our Alpha’s rule any longer.”

The man sighed, shaking his head. “I know the stories. Your Alpha has made a name for himself, and not in a good way. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe here.” He paused, glancing around as if making sure no one else was listening. “I can’t promise anything better for you in this pack.”

My stomach dropped. What did that mean? Were we stepping into another nightmare? Was there no escape from this hell?

“Wait,” I called out as he turned to leave, panic swelling in my chest. “What’s the name of this pack?” He stopped, turning back to face me with a knowing smirk. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“No,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper, fear creeping into my words. “Tell me.”

“The Dark Shadows Pack,” he said simply, before turning and walking away. “When she wakes up, follow the path. You’ll find the rest of us in the open field.”

My heart sank. The *Dark Shadows Pack*. I had feared those words. The stories we’d heard—about their ruthless Alpha, their brutal ways—made our previous pack seem like a paradise in comparison. This place was dangerous. Worse than we could have imagined.

“I heard him,” Olivera muttered weakly, her voice trembling as she finally stirred in my arms. She had been awake long enough to hear the worst of it.

“Olivera,” I whispered, trying to soothe her, but the fear in her eyes told me she already knew what was coming.

“We’re going to die,” she said, her voice shaking along with her body as she clutched my arm.

“No, we’re not,” I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt. But the truth was, I didn’t know what was waiting for us beyond that narrow path. All I knew was that we had to keep moving. We had to survive.

Slowly, I helped her to her feet, her body still weak but her seizures finally stopped. We had no choice but to keep going, to follow the man’s directions and pray that we could make it through whatever was coming.

As we started down the path, Olivera’s voice came softly beside me. “Do you really think we’ll live past a week here?”

I swallowed hard, my heart heavy with uncertainty. “Yes, we will,” I said, though the words felt like a lie.

Neither of us believed it, but it was the only hope we had left.

Chapter 5: Bound by Chains

The sun beat down mercilessly, scorching the open field where Olivera and her best friend, Jeremy, trudged slowly toward a gathering of laborers. The intense heat of the day was unrelenting, as if the sun itself waged war against the land and all who inhabited it. Dust rose from beneath their feet, swirling around them as they approached a scene dominated by bricks, sand, and the unmistakable weight of suffering.

"I'm thirsty," Olivera murmured, wiping sweat from her brow. Her body felt drenched, sticky with perspiration pooling beneath her clothes. The heat was unbearable. She longed not only for a drink but to plunge herself into water, anything to relieve the oppressive sensation engulfing her.

"We'll find water soon, maybe from that man," Jeremy replied, his voice hoarse from thirst. He swallowed hard, trying to moisten his dry throat. He wasn’t sure they’d actually find water, but hope was something he needed Olivera to cling to. Despair, especially in their situation, was not an option.

Olivera nodded but eyed the scene before them. “What are they doing?”

Jeremy squinted toward the laborers. “Looks like they’re building something,” he said, watching as men mixed sand and broke bricks. Their movements were sluggish with fatigue, their faces etched with exhaustion and strain. "They’re probably prisoners, forced to work as punishment. The Alpha must keep them here, laboring until he’s satisfied."

A chill ran through him at the thought. They were in the heart of the Dark Shadows Pack, notorious for its ruthlessness, its prisoners rarely emerging alive, let alone free. The silver bracelets on the workers' arms confirmed their status—those bands would sap a werewolf's strength, leaving them vulnerable and weak. If prolonged, the silver could even kill them. Jeremy’s stomach churned, imagining himself shackled in such a way. He couldn't help but glance at Olivera, who, wolfless as she was, likely wouldn’t be affected by the silver. But even without those shackles, the harsh labor would break her in days.

"Wicked," Jeremy muttered under his breath, feeling the heavy weight of their surroundings pressing in on him.

Olivera looked at him, curious. "Did you say something?"

Jeremy quickly shook his head. "No, nothing. Just talking to myself." He forced his focus back on the path ahead, anxiety gnawing at him. He knew what their future here likely held, and it was far from bright.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Olivera asked with a faint smile, sensing his tension but attempting to lighten the mood.

"It’s nothing, really," he lied, trying to match her tone with a weak smile of his own.

"At least we’re still together," Olivera said, lacing her fingers with his. Her grip was firm, a subtle reminder that they still had each other amidst the uncertainty. That was all that mattered for now.

Jeremy squeezed her hand gently, grateful for her attempt at optimism despite the bleakness of their situation. Her resolve was something he admired, though he feared it wouldn’t last in a place like this. Her seizures had already left her fragile, and the horrors of the Dark Shadows Pack were well-known. Survival here wasn’t a guarantee, and the weight of those thoughts settled heavy in his chest.

Olivera's mind wandered as they walked. She had heard stories—many stories—about the infamous Alpha of the Dark Shadows Pack. His reputation stretched far and wide, striking fear into the hearts of werewolves and humans alike. He was known for his power, both physical and political, with rumors suggesting he had connections to influential human leaders. But beyond his might and strategic brilliance, it was his cruelty that echoed in every corner of the werewolf world. The tales told of entire villages decimated at his whim, all because their leaders dared to challenge him. And his treatment of women—Olivera had heard that too. He used them, discarded them, treated them as nothing more than playthings. And yet, there were always those who sought his attention, desperate to be noticed by a man so revered and feared.

A part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to catch his eye. What if, somehow, he noticed her?

She shook her head violently, startling herself out of the strange, unwelcome fantasy.

"What’s wrong?" Jeremy asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Nothing," Olivera said quickly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Just had a stupid thought."

Jeremy laughed softly, amused by the way her blush deepened. "You were fantasizing again, weren’t you?"

"No, I wasn’t!" Olivera insisted, though the blush on her face betrayed her. She crossed her arms, pouting slightly.

"Come on, spill it," Jeremy teased, his voice light for the first time in what felt like days. He needed the distraction, even if it came from something silly.

Olivera rolled her eyes. "It’s nothing, really."

"Yeah, right," Jeremy laughed again. "Your face says otherwise." Before she could retort, a voice interrupted them. "You made it."

They turned to see the man who had led them from their cell earlier. He stood with his arms crossed, watching them with the same unreadable expression he had before.

Jeremy straightened, his hand slipping out of Olivera’s. “Yes, we made it,” he said, his voice tight with apprehension.

The man nodded, his gaze lingering on them for a moment before he spoke again. “Good. So, Jeremy, you’ll join the others in the field. Your job is to work hard and stay out of trouble. If you behave, I won’t have to make you wear a silver bracelet."

Jeremy swallowed hard, the reality of his situation sinking in. “I’ll behave,” he said quietly, though the thought of being subjected to this grueling labor day after day filled him with dread.

The man gave a brief nod before glancing at Olivera. "And you," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "You can’t work in the field. You wouldn’t last long."

"I’m strong," Olivera protested, though she knew deep down she wasn’t. But the thought of being separated from Jeremy terrified her.

The man shook his head. "No, you’re not. Don’t worry. You’ll see him at the end of each day."

Olivera bit her lip, her chest tightening at the thought of being apart from her best friend, even if only for a few hours. "Okay," she whispered, her voice small.

"Follow me," the man said, turning on his heel and walking toward the other side of the field.

Olivera glanced back at Jeremy as he made his way toward the laborers, her heart sinking. Whatever awaited them here, it was clear that their lives had taken a dark turn.