Three weeks of regretting my decision to come looking for Beth.
My sister. The traitor who helped a monster escape justice and left me to take the blame.
I curl into myself on the narrow cot, trying to conserve warmth. The basement walls sweat with dampness, and the single lightbulb casts eerie shadows on the walls. My father was a beta. I’m a powerful wolf, and I don’t scare easily, but something about this place gives me the creeps. It’s not just a holding cell. I can almost feel the pain of whoever was in here before me.
My wolf paces inside me, desperate to shift, to run, but Leon made it clear what would happen if I tried to escape. The silver-lined restraints hanging on the wall aren’t just for show. He won’t hesitate to use them if I don’t play nice.
And in my weakened state, trying to outrun a clan of powerful bears, from deep within their territory? I don’t have a chance. So I wait, praying an opportunity will arise.
The door at the top of the stairs creaks open. I tense, every muscle coiled for a fight that I can’t win. But so help me, if Leon attempts to lay a finger on me, like he’s hinted at before, I’ll die fighting.
Light spills down the steps, followed by the woodsy scent that’s become an odd mix of comfort and pain in this messed up situation.
“Brought you dinner.”
The deep voice rumbles from upstairs before he appears, letting me know I don’t need to be scared.
Billy. Leon’s son.
He descends the stairs, a tray balanced in one broad hand. Six-foot-three of pure muscle, with dark hair pulled back in a messy bun and a beard that can’t hide the square jaw beneath. Where Leon is all rough edges, sneering smirks and cruel comments, Billy is... different.
Still dangerous, but in a way that doesn’t make my skin crawl. He’s no risk to me physically, that much I’m confident of, but my heart, and my soul? That’s another story altogether. And he doesn’t even know it.
His eyes meet mine, and something inside me shifts.
I look away quickly. Too quickly.
“Not hungry?” he asks, setting the tray on a small table bolted to the floor. Thick arms folding across his chest, he frowns, watching me carefully as I curl in on myself, trying to hide behind my dirty hair, and tugging the sleeves of my shirt down to cover my torn fingernails.
My stomach drops. I can’t bear for him to see me like this.
Billy pushes the tray closer, imploring me to consider taking a bite. “Please. I promise, it’s good. Made it myself.”
I eye the food, a real sandwich today, not the scraps Leon usually sends down. He’s even put a napkin on the plate. And there’s a bottle of juice instead of the usual questionable drinking water.
“Why do you care?”
I know why I care what he thinks, but bear’s differ from us wolf shifters. When Leila mated Marcus, I couldn’t understand why it had taken them so long to get it together. But he didn’t know. The bear decides and only lets the human side of them know when it’s one hundred percent certain.
“You need to eat.”
He looks genuinely concerned as he takes in my once curvy, full figure, that’s slowly fading away.
I itch to cover myself from his view. His bear must be disgusted by what he sees. Panic and shame rises inside me, and I lash out, wanting him to leave. I need him to stop looking at me.
“So you can feel less guilty? Because you feel sorry for me? No thanks.”
Billy’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he does something unexpected: he sits on the bottom step, blocking the only exit but making no move to come closer. His hands clasp together, dangling between his knees as he stares across the room, unseeing as he mulls something over in his head.
I wait, unable to take my eyes off him. My wolf whines inside me, wanting to get closer, to touch him. But I’m too scared to even consider it. After three weeks down here, I’m repulsive. A wash with a bucket of cold water and a rag isn’t enough to keep me smelling of roses.
“My father’s planning something,” he says quietly. “Something big.”
He doesn’t sound happy about it.
I tilt my head, studying him. Whatever is about to happen, it’s weighing heavily on him, and the need to make him feel better rises inside me, but I shove it down. He’s a Lennox, and despite being nicer to me than the rest, he’s still my captor.
“And you’re telling the prisoner this because...?”
