Chapter 4

Dana awoke. How unfortunate. And, boy, did she fucking hurt. The agony radiated from every part of her body so intensely it made her nauseous. It took her several moments to breathe past the pain.

She didn't move-it hurt too much-as she took stock of her situation, or what she could see from her prone position. It could be summed up in one word-bleak. Even in the near dark, she could see her cubicle of a prison: brick walls with crumbling mortar, a silver-inlaid door with a barred window that let in a fragment of light. The scent of death, comprised of sweat, blood, and tears, permeated the air, and she wondered how many others had found themselves in the same prison, gripped in the same despair.

The cement floor, cold and unforgiving, didn't make the most comfortable of pillows. But it was still preferable to what she imagined awaited her once they realized she'd regained consciousness. It took her a moment to realize the weight on her body wasn't fatigue and injury-great as they were-but chains. Silver chains. How dangerous do they think me that they must pin me down in an obscene amount of silver?

The heft of it proved onerous, but at least the burning pain of its poisonous touch managed to distract her from the rest of her body's damage, the cracked ribs being the most grievous and slowest to heal. Each inhalation threatened to drag her back into the darkness. Given time, her body would mend, a Lycan trait that usually served her well, but in this instance, it would mean a never-ending life of torture, or so she imagined, given what she'd seen of her captors so far. Her brief stint of consciousness in the packed truck had thankfully been short and yet long enough for the crude leader of the gang to tell her in gleeful detail the things he planned to do to her.

She attempted to stretch, the clanking of the metal almost stifling her scream of agony as the bruises she'd earned in her attempt to escape woke with a vengeance and made a lie of her earlier assertion the silver was more painful. She attempted to console herself with the fact that the throbbing agony of her body was a badge of honor proving she'd acquitted herself well against the brutes who'd hunted her down like the vilest of bitches. The remembered bellows of pain and the blood she'd made them shed made her grimace in a parody of a smile.

In the end, though, one female Lycan was no match for the strength of the dozen sent to capture her. Bullies.

All the bravery in the world also wouldn't stop what was to come because now the true nightmare would begin. The pain she endured at the moment would be nothing compared to the lifetime of humiliation and agony they planned to inflict. Female werewolves were rare. Rare enough that these males risked their lives to capture her. Rare enough that, even as they fought among themselves over who would claim her first, there was no question they would share her. Rare enough that she had no choice.

Frustration spilled over, and Dana screamed. The sound, loud and piercing, was filled with the despair and unfairness of the situation. She'd escaped from one life of gentle servitude, only to end up roped into a warped one, rife with violence.

Just wait until they try and bed me. I'll rip their fucking cocks off, she thought savagely. I'll make them bleed and hurt.

Her primal cry received a response in the form of thumping footsteps. The click of the tumblers in the lock preceded the ominous squeak of the silver-plated door being swung open. Dana narrowed her eyes at the man who stepped into her cell.

The pockmarked face of the prick who'd led the ambush leered down at her. "What's wrong, bitch? Feeling lonely? Eager for the taste of a man?" He grabbed his crotch in an obscene gesture that made her stomach turn. Dana didn't show her disgust, though. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. Instead, she spit in his direction.

"Pig. Only a coward needs to beat and tie up a woman to have her. Let me go and face me one-on-one, you chicken bastard. I'll show you how eager I am to see you." She grinned, a feral smile that didn't scare him-yet. He'd soon regret his choice in kidnapping her.

"Dirty-mouthed whore. I'll make you choke on your words." He unbuckled his belt, and Dana, still trapped by the silver, felt a frisson of fear dance up her spine. She didn't stand a chance trussed like a turkey. She'd hoped to goad him into releasing her and at least giving her a chance to fight-and die. But the coward had no intention of playing fair.

She stalled, for what she didn't know. It's not like I've got anybody to come rescue me. "How did you find me?"

Her abductor sneered. "One of my men stopped for lunch and came back saying he'd smelt pussy, the Lycan kind."

Dana wanted to kick herself. She'd assumed her mill stench covered her own when she came off work and stopped for a meal. "Fine, so you figured out I was there and sent your little spy. Doesn't explain how you knew where to find me in the woods."

"Our master told us," he hissed, his eyes lighting in a way that made her shiver.

"Master? You mean your alpha, don't you?" She didn't understand. She'd assumed this beast was the pack leader.

"I am alpha," he growled, thumping his chest. "The master just is and not to be talked about."

"So you're just a lackey?" she goaded in the hopes he'd lose his temper and end her before he did something worse.

Her comment dropped the miscreant to his knees, and he hauled her up by the chains, the pain so intense that she couldn't even squeak out a scream. She did, however, moan as her eyes rolled back in her head, but darkness refused to claim her.

His spittle sprayed her as he spoke with a tight voice. "Mouthy little bitch. I might be his servant, but because of the master, I'm more powerful than you can imagine. Now since you like working that mouth of yours so much, I'll give you something to choke on." He released her and she fell back on the floor, gasping as needles of agony radiated throughout her body.

The news that someone pulled this pervert's strings like a puppet didn't have the power to stun her like the image of the dirty pig unbuttoning his pants. He'd prepared to shove them down when the sounds of screams came to them.

With a frown, her pockmarked thug buttoned back up. "Fucking idiots. Now what the hell are they up to? Don't go anywhere, my feisty slut. I'll be right back to take care of you as soon as I knock a few heads together."

She'd hoped he would leave the door open in his distraction, but the door swung shut behind him with a clank. The sound of the key turning in the lock killed all hope of escape.

Dana closed her eyes and couldn't help the tear that leaked from the corner of an eye. How did my life come to this? When did dying become a choice more preferable than life? Even worse, in her current condition, she couldn't even be preemptive and take her life before the brute would return to take her body.

Misery engulfed her, and she shook on the cold floor, oblivious to anything but her pain, both physical and mental. Stupid. Stupid. I should have never left my pack. At least there I had a chance for happiness. Maybe I would have been one of the lucky ones who didn't mind sharing my bed with more than one man. If I could turn back the clock, return to that time, I'd do things differently. I wouldn't rely on my emotions to guide my actions but take charge instead and make the situation one I could live with. Choose my fate instead of having someone else, someone who doesn't care for me, decide my future instead.

But as her father used to say with a sneer, wishes didn't grow on trees, and all the recriminations in the world wouldn't change her current situation.

The noise outside battered through her despondency. She tried to block it out, knowing the savagery was somehow connected to her. Probably a rematch to decide who would get the first turn.

However, the strident screams-death knells-were impossible to ignore.

The chaos of violence moved closer, or so she judged by the increase in volume, until it appeared to have arrived right outside her cell door. She held her breath as she listened. The unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh and heavy breathing drifted through the barred window in the door. With a thump and a gurgle, dead silence suddenly reigned.

Dana's stomach fluttered. Rescue? Could she finally be so lucky?

Bang! Bang!

Something heavy pounded at the door, denting it. What the fuck? Her eyes widened in disbelief. Solid steel did not dimple without tremendous force. Tell that to whatever is doing it. Something beat at the door, and bit by bit, incredible as it seemed, the silver barrier crumpled until seams appeared as the door separated from the frame. Fingers that ended in sharp claws curled around the edges, and with a groan and screech of bending metal, the door was torn off its hinges.

Dear sweet fucking lord. Dana almost wet herself in fear.

A beast stood in the doorway, literally. Taller than the doorframe, he loomed, blocking out the light but not enough that she couldn't make out certain characteristics, such as the fact that he sprouted dark hair all over and sported pronounced canines and a muzzle. A wolf-man, or so it appeared, something she'd never seen or even heard of before. The beast moved closer, ducking to pass through the doorframe, and she pegged his height at close to seven feet. The hulking wolf-man snarled at the sight of her, and his yellow eyes flashed with ominous light.

He took a heavy step toward her, and Dana, usually so brave, couldn't help but whimper. The pathetic sound halted the creature in its tracks. Before her wide-eyed gaze, the wolfish features shrank in on themselves, melting and reshaping into the face of a man. A face she recognized, even though she hadn't seen it in over twelve years.

He shook his head at her. "Caught you," he announced in a low timbre that still had the ability to make her tummy flip over, even in her current state.

Her heart raced faster. Her past had finally caught up to her, and the shock of it, along with the rest of her injuries, thankfully made her black out.