Chapter Fourteen

1752 Words
Ice-cold water splashes across my face, and I jolt awake with a yelp. I blink several times, trying to clear the blurriness that grips my vision. There’s a man in front of me, a pail of water in his hand. I can’t make out his features through my delirium, but the one thing I can see is his wicked smile. “Wakey-wakey, sweetheart,” he growls, heaving the metal pail and splashing me with the rest of the icy water. My breath is stolen from the shock, and I try to curl up to protect myself against the chill— My arms won’t move. I look up, despite the nausea that grips me and the darkness that encroaches my vision. My hands are fixed above my head, dangling from a long chain as I sit on the floor. I don’t have time to let dread sink in; bile-boiling sickness churns in my throat, and I hurl onto the floor. It’s only now that I realize I’m naked and covered in dirt and scratches. The man chuckles darkly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a pathetic sight. The future Luna of the Bleeding Heart Pack, looking like some half-dead rogue.” I glare at him, his features still blurry. Wait, how does he know who I am? He must have read my expression, because he gloats, “Yeah, one of your packmates cracked to their interrogation. Told us exactly who you are.” He leans in close, his fetid breath assaulting my nostrils. Thick saliva pools on the back of my tongue, and I concentrate on not throwing up. The man’s hand comes into focus just as he grips my chin, his club-like fingers digging into my cold flesh. I suppress a wince. “When I led the assault party on your pack, I assumed I’d come home with a couple young trophies. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my team would capture someone so important!” he gawks, his rotten breath suffocating me. “Your pack should thank me for revealing their beloved future Luna’s weakness.” I push through my delirium long enough to speak. “You cheated,” I seethe. Werewolves don’t have that kind of technology to create venom-filled, prosthetic fangs – especially not someone from our bloody alliance. So, his pack must have stolen the blueprints and manufactured it for their purposes. “‘Our packs may only hunt each other to weed out the weak. Any outside help, from technology to trickery, is strictly forbidden,’” I recite to him. He laughs…and the terrible realization dawns on me. He doesn’t care. “Sweetheart, who’s gonna believe you? Your pack is one of the most cutthroat packs alive; all they’ll see is a young Luna-wannabe making excuses for her embarrassing failure.” He tightens his hold on me, his dirty fingernails digging deep into my jawbone. “But let’s say they believe you. What’re they gonna do? Wage war? We got plenty more Wolfsbane Weapons, ones you can’t even dream of; they’ll be outmatched.” “Then what’s the point? Why defeat the entire purpose of the Full Moon hunts just to claim an unfair victory?” I rasp as my head lolls back from the spinning room. “Sweetheart, as Alpha of the Sanguine River Pack, it’s my duty to strike fear into our enemies. Now, I’ve played fair for many years; but it’s about time we change the game. Progress can’t be made by following the rules.” His grin deepens, his plaque-coated teeth mere inches from my face. So, this is the infamous Alpha of the Sanguine River Pack. Anger rattles against my ribcage, begging me to somehow strangle him. He’s gloating over my capture – and he cheated. He’s poised to ruin my life; when I return to my pack, I’ll be eternally shamed for being kidnapped. My title will be stripped at best…and I’ll be killed at worst. “N’aww, don’t look so sad, scar-face! Maybe someday you’ll be strong enough to best my Omegas.” I’ve had it. I’m too drugged to kick him, but I sure as hell can spit. I gather up all my pooled saliva, bile, snot, and nausea, and launch it at him in a thick spray. He drops my face and staggers back, crying out from disgust. I smirk – I nailed him. He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face. “All-righty, then,” he mumbles, nodding to himself before launching his fist at my face. Pain wracks my skull as my head snaps to the side and my chains rattle. I slump from the blow, my shoulders pulling against their sockets and my wrists digging into their metal cuffs. My entire head is vibrating; my eyes feel like they’re being drenched in bleach. Blood dribbles from my busted lip. “Got anything else you wanna say?” he taunts as I slump lifelessly. I can barely make out his words through the agony; he sounds like a faraway echo. I take in a deep breath and mumble, “…I feel sorry for you.” He chortles, and though I can’t look up at him, his shadow moves closer. “And why’s that, scar-face?” My voice pops with the blood that coats my teeth and lips, and my tongue feels heavy, but my hatred is crystal clear even through my slurred words. “…Only an insecure man-child…takes delight in beating up…a girl who could best you in a fair fight…! What happened to you…to make you so desperate…for a shred of power?” His boot stomps on my spine, and I shriek. My whole body contorts from the impact— He hauls me up by the scruff of my neck and punches me squarely in the gut, clubbing the breath from my lungs. I’m left coughing and gasping for air; I twist in my shackles, but nothing eases the pain. Tears stream down my face – Great Aoibh, please stop the pain! The Alpha stands to his full height, wiping his knuckles with his white handkerchief. The room is so dark now that I can barely see anything. He says something, but it bounces off the agony that deafens me. He takes a long strip of cloth out his back pocket and thrusts it in my mouth, tying it so tightly around my aching skull that more tears spring from my eyes. He strides out the room and slams the door shut, but it’s muffled beyond recognition. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Sometime later, I reawaken. The light outside is a bit brighter, the shadows a little longer. I sit up and groan – my whole body is throbbing to the fast drumming of my heart. Great. A gentle whimper brings back my focus. Who whimpered? Are they okay? It sounded like on the other side of the wall. These walls must be thin. I’ve heard of this technique before; captured werewolves are put in adjacent rooms with thin walls, so that they can hear each other being beaten. It’s meant to drive us mad. A camera watches me from the top left corner of the room. Although it’s the first time I’ve seen one of those lifeless metal eyes staring at me, I’ve read about them. I’m guessing my captors don’t want me to communicate with whoever’s on the other side of the wall. Communication would let us comfort each other and give us a sense of control. Plus, the gag in my mouth is wrapped so thickly that I could only produce grunts if I tried to speak. I’ll have to find a different, stealthier way to talk. I scoot up against the wall, my arms still dangling overhead. I wrack my brain for some way to talk without actually speaking. I’ve heard of a way humans talk – I think it’s called Morse Code? Something to do with dots and dashes. An idea creeps into my head. I angle my wrists so that my fingernails are pointed toward the wall, and I focus my nails to sharpen into claws. Blood pulses through my fingertips, and my nails tingle as they elongate. I ever-so-gently tap the wall eight times…then nine times. Nothing. I do it again. Still nothing. Come on, figure it out, whoever you are! Eight…nine. Eight…nine. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H…A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I. H…I: eighth letter…ninth letter. My wrist and fingers ache from the subtle, repeated tap-tap-taps. I just keep at it, hoping my fellow packmate will figure it out. Eight…nine. Eight…nine. Finally, the faintest reply drifts through the wall. H…I. They understand me! They’re saying “hi!” My heart skips a beat, and I refuse to let my fingers give out on me. I tap, “R…U…OK?” Twenty-five…five…nineteen. “Y.E.S.” “W.H.O…Y.O.U?” I ask, tapping my long claws against the door as quietly and stealthily as I can, trying not to stare at the ever watchful camera. “F.I.N.N.A.” My breath hitches, and my loneliness is instantly chased away. Finna! Thank Aoibh she’s okay! I explain to her, with painstaking slowness, who I am. She begins tapping back to me, but she stops suddenly. I think I hear her cell door open. I wait with baited breath, praying to the moon that she’ll be okay. My heart shatters when a muffled punch reverberates through the wall, accompanied by a strangled yelp from poor Finna. Don’t panic. They’re trying to get to me, I remind myself— Another punch, another whine. My chains rattle as I tremble, and Saoradh rages inside me. “Free her! Free her!” she’s begging me. Finna starts sobbing. Oh Great Mother – the scars on her back. She’s been beaten before. I can’t even imagine the nightmares this is reawakening. A feral growl rips from my throat, and I scream at her assailant to leave her alone, but my words are trapped behind the thick gag in my mouth. All that comes out are muffled, unintelligible cries. More punches, more sobs. I thrash and writhe against my bonds, shouting at the tops of my lungs for her assailant to stop. I cry out, tears streaming down my face from the helplessness as I listen to her sobs and begs for mercy. I’ll burn this place to the ground, I’ll tear their f*****g throats out! Just hang on, Finna! No one will ever hurt you again once I’m freed!
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