“Don’t fight them, Caleb!” I yelled as the scuffle erupted behind me. The thud of flesh hitting flesh followed. My wolf snapped its restraints, but it was just as helpless.
“Get off me!” Caleb shouted, sounding winded. He was fighting them because of course he was. Someone growled. Another thud, heavier this time.
Stefanos kept his gaze on me. “I take no pleasure in this.”
“You could have fooled me,” I bit out, rage searing my gut. My muscles twitched as I fought his hold.
Behind me, Caleb grunted, then fell silent.
Stefanos’s expression cooled. “You broke the law, Jesse. The boy is a rogue. Not only did you keep his existence from us, you took him as a mate.”
“He’s not a rogue.” I strained, listening for Caleb.There.His heart thumped, quiet but steady. He was hurt but alive. I had to keep him that way.
“He was sired by a rogue,” Stefanos said. “That makes him a rogue. You of all people know that, wolfseeker.”
“He’s different,” I said. “If you want to hurt someone, hurt me.”
More shuffling at my back. Sweat dripped down my temple as I tried to break free.
“What I want is irrelevant,” Stefanos said. He broke my stare and gestured to someone behind me.
His magic lifted. I surged up. Turned.
Something connected with the back of my skull. Pain exploded.
The world went dark.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
CALEB
It took four-and-a-half steps to get from one side of my cell to the other. I knew because I’d paced it for the past two days.
At least, that was my best guess. I had no idea how long I’d been locked in the damp, windowless space. Everything was gray: the walls, the floor, the metal bunk bolted to the concrete. The toilet and the thick, solid door. They’d given me a gray blanket but no pillow.
The overhead light provided the only splash of color. The buzzing, white fluorescent glow never turned off, which made sleep all but impossible. I’d grabbed naps here and there, alternating between draping the blanket over my eyes or balling it under my head. But I was definitely running a deficit on REM cycles.
Food delivery offered the only break in the monotony. Every once in a while, one of the werewolves who’d knocked me out at the manor house showed up with a plate. Ripped like a pro wrestler, he’d ignored all my attempts to engage him in conversation.
The food was as bland as my surroundings: cold grilled cheese on thin bread, paper cups of watery soup, and pale tea with grit floating on the surface.
“No sugar?” I’d asked the guard the third time he’d delivered the same meal.
He’d given me a long, hard look before slamming the door.
“Roid rage,” I’d muttered, half-hoping he’d come back just to give me something to do besides worry about Jesse.
He was alive. I knew it in my bones. People said that sometimes, but they didn’t really mean it because they’d never been mated to a werewolf. But I was, and I knew with bone-deep certainty that Jesse was alive. That knowledge was the only thing preventing me from spiraling.
The door’s lock clicked suddenly. I jumped off the bunk, some instinct pulling me to my feet before I’d made the decision to move.
Stefanos Tasakis stepped into the cell.
Every inch of my skin prickled. The second our eyes met, pain stabbed at my skull. I jerked my head down, and the discomfort vanished. But the prickling awareness remained, making me feel like I was eight years old grabbing laundry from my parents’ basement.
“If you walked into a room full of werewolves, you’d sense the hierarchy without anyone telling you.”I hadn’t really understood it when Jesse said it. But I did now.
