Sam
Sam kept his breathing even, his body protesting at the stillness. His entire side burned, and opening his eyes to slits he understood why. He was in a cage, and from the pain he guessed it was made entirely of silver.
“I know you’re awake,” a familiar voice said. “Get up, you lazy fucker.”
Sam hissed as every bone ached, sitting up in the centre of the cage. His head grazed the top, shoulders almost the same width as he tried to make himself smaller. His father sat on a wooden chair facing him, leaning forward with his hands clasped in his lap. Two men painted as skulls guarded behind, the one on the left familiar. They stood and stared, not one muscle twitching with an empty gaze.
Cinderblocks surrounded from what he could see, with concrete precariously poured onto the floor in uneven patches. A single bed, metal with a filthy mattress lay in the corner, marks clawed into the walls by the foot.
Sam composed himself, keeping his arms from touching the cage. There was no natural light, his ears picking up the artificial buzzing of the bulbs high above, placed randomly to create chunks of shadows. The scents were confusing, a mixture of dust, damp and… dirt.
Underground?
“You shouldn’t have fought me before,” his father continued, jumping up in a burst of violence to smack the cage with an open palm.
Sam controlled his flinch, barely.
“This was never supposed to happen. You’re mine. My fucking son. My fucking Omega. Because of your disobedience I’m going to be punished.” He struck the cage once more. “I’m –”
“You’re going to be punished because you kept this from me.”
Sam tensed at the voice, turning his head to watch a male he didn’t recognise walk around his cage. He was one of the largest men he had ever seen, with wings arched high above his shoulders. They were black, leathery membranes stretched between surprisingly thin bones. Spikes dominated the upper curves, obsidian and sharp, while his horns curled down towards a boxy face, ending just shy of his jaw.
The Daemon crouched, and still he was taller than the cage, having to look down through the links, black hair long enough to brush the concrete. “An Omega, how fascinating. Tell me Conor, why you thought it was appropriate to expand your pack without my approval?”
Sam flicked his gaze to the man who made him, his face twisted with animosity.
“He’s mine!” his father hissed. “What the fuck was Bishop doing going after my Omega, Gideon?”
The Daemon’s head turned, his body facing forward as his neck twisted at an impossible angle.
“A deal is a deal,” Connor said, pushing the words through clenched teeth. “My soul for a pack.Mypack.”
“Do you believe I haven’t kept my half of the bargain?” Gideon straightened, and Conor tensed, stepping closer to the skulls who remained like statues. “That I haven’t provided you with capable packmates?”
“They’re nothing but your puppets,” Conor said in a clipped tone. “They don’t see me as Alpha. They’re weak, and all they care about is that bloody ga –”
The words stopped short when Gideon bolted forward, lifting him by his throat. Sam felt nothing as his father gasped for air, feet dangling freely as his hands shifted into claws.
“I think you’re forgetting who you’re speaking to.” Gideon’s features hardened. “Your lack of dominance isn’t my problem. You soldyoursoul for a pack, which means you belong to me.” He released his grip, and Conor fell to his knees, gasping for air. “I’ve provided you a pack, and a shelter and yet you sneak around as if you have any power here.”
“My Lord,” a familiar grumble from behind. The Daemon who had taken him from the bar entered through a crudely created gap in the cinderblocks, the space leading into nothing but pitch black. Auburn hair hung straight to his shoulders, emphasising the red in the irises when they grazed over to Sam.
“Perfect timing.” Gideon lifted his hand, and the Daemon threw over a metal canister. “Go, before I listen to Bishop and kill you,” Gideon said, dropping the canister onto Conor’s head as he continued to cough on the floor. “Remember, you’re replaceable. I don’t need you to control my Lessers, I can get any shifter with a touch of dominance to keep them in line.”
The skulls moved as one when Gideon stepped back, reaching down to help Conor to his feet, but he shook them off. Anger pulsed from his gaze, hardening into hatred when they met Sam’s. Without another word he exited through the same gap Bishop had entered, the skulls following him obediently.
Gideon rolled his shoulders, clicking his neck as he crouched once more by the cage.
“What have the Fates brought me?” he said, voice deep enough it rattled Sam’s bones. “Look at me.”
Sam dragged his attention to the male, trying to keep himself calm as memories of being put in a cage as a small child rushed back. It was used as a punishment, the familiar burn of silver bringing a dread he didn’t want to relive.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, I expected more of a fight.”
“Release me and find out,” Sam said with a hiss, able to feel the aggression of his leopard vibrate his voice. His body ached, muscles tight as he wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them to his chest.
A dark chuckle, Gideon tapping the cage with a long fingernail. “What am I?”
