“Is this how you treat all your guests?” Freya snapped, her wrists chafing against the rough chains that bound her.
The warrior hauling her forward snorted. “Guests don’t usually try to bite us.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have kidnapped me,” she shot back, stumbling as the heavy iron links clinked with every step.
“Enough,” the warrior growled, jerking her forward.
The grand gates of the Nightclaw Pack loomed ahead, flanked by towering wolves in their human forms. Their eyes glinted in the moonlight, watching her with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
Freya's stomach churned as the gates creaked open, revealing a sprawling compound bathed in the cold glow of torches.
She was shoved into the main hall, a cavernous space with stone walls that seemed to swallow the light. At the far end, on a raised dais, sat Alpha Gray.
Freya's breath caught.
He was everything she had imagined and more—broad-shouldered, with a jaw sharp enough to cut glass and piercing amber eyes that seemed to see straight through her. His dark hair framed a face that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
“Bring her forward,” Gray commanded, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
The warrior pushed her roughly to her knees in front of the dais. Freya glared up at the alpha, refusing to show fear despite the rapid pounding of her heart.
“This is the infamous seer?” Gray asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.
“She fought like a cornered rabbit,” the warrior said, smirking.
Freya bit back a retort.
Gray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. “Tell me your name.”
“Freya,” she said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.
“Freya,” he repeated, tasting the name as if deciding whether it was worth remembering. “You’re the one who predicted the fire that destroyed your pack?”
Her throat tightened. “It wasn’t a prediction. It was a vision.”
Gray’s eyebrows lifted, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “A vision,” he echoed mockingly. “How convenient.”
Freya's hands balled into fists. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t matter.”
Gray stood and descended the dais, each step measured and deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, towering over her as he tilted her chin up with a finger.
“It matters to me,” he said softly, though there was no warmth in his tone. “If you truly have this… gift, you could be very useful. But if you’re lying…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes locked on hers.
“I’m not lying,” Freya whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
Gray stared at her for a moment longer before stepping back. “We’ll see.” He gestured to the warriors. “Take her to the cells.”
“No!” Freya surged to her feet, but the chains pulled her back down. “You can’t just lock me up like some animal!”
Gray turned to her, his expression cold. “You’re in my territory now, Freya. I’ll do whatever I please.”
The warriors grabbed her arms and began dragging her away.
“Wait!” she shouted, struggling against their grip. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
Gray’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “I want the truth. And I always get what I want.”
****
The cell was as cold and unwelcoming as Freya had feared. The stone walls pressed in on her, and the faint smell of dampness lingered in the air.
She sat on the hard cot, her chains clinking softly as she adjusted her position. Her wrists throbbed where the metal had bitten into her skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the weight of Gray’s words.
“You’re in my territory now…”
Freya shivered. She had heard tales of Alpha Gray—the ruthless leader of the Nightclaw Pack who crushed anyone who dared oppose him. And now she was at his mercy.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Freya's head snapped up.
A moment later, the cell door creaked open, and Gray stepped inside, followed by a warrior carrying a tray of food.
“Eat,” Gray ordered, nodding to the tray as the warrior set it on the small table.
Freya narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch?”
Gray’s lips twitched in amusement. “No catch. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to prove your worth.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she retorted, crossing her arms.
Gray stepped closer, his towering presence filling the small cell. “I think you misunderstand your situation, Freya. You’re alive because I believe you might be useful. But my patience has limits.”
Freya's heart raced, but she refused to back down. “What do you want me to do? Have another vision? They don’t work like that!”
“Then explain how they work,” Gray said, his tone sharp.
She hesitated, the words caught in her throat. She had spent years trying to suppress her gift, to ignore the fleeting images that danced through her mind. And now he was demanding answers she didn’t have.
“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gray’s jaw tightened. “That’s not good enough.”
“I’m telling the truth!” she exclaimed. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked for these visions?”
Gray’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but his voice remained firm. “Then help me understand, Freya. What did you see the night your pack burned?”
The memory clawed at her, raw and unrelenting. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away, but it surged forward anyway.
“Fire,” she said hoarsely. “I saw fire. It spread so fast… too fast. I warned them, but no one listened.”
Gray watched her intently. “And now they’re gone.”
Freya nodded, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.
Gray studied her for a moment before turning to leave. “You’ll stay here until I decide what to do with you.”
“Wait!” she called after him. “You said I could be useful. How? What are you planning?”
He paused at the door, glancing back at her. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Freya alone in the suffocating silence of her cell.