Page 36 of Pack Kasen: Part 1

“After the feral killed Aren’s mother, he escaped, killing three others before Aren’s father could kill him. Though not before he suffered a fatal wound. He died in Aren’s arms.”

“How old was he?”

“Ten.”

I try really hard to cling to my anger. Ten is way too young to lose so many people you love. Especially as violently as that.

He points his chin at the cage. “Thiswas an attempt to understand them at first. His mother was our Luna, and she wanted to help them. She believed every shifter should have a home and a pack, but she failed. Not all bitten humans become ferals but enough do. Aren did what he could to prevent moreferal attacks in Montana. When he didn’t feel like he was having enough impact, he entered the Wolf King Trials at fifteen.”

I frown. “The Wolf King Trials. What’s that?”

“Finan!” a male voice bellows.

A familiar one.

Finan glances over his shoulder and I know whatever time we had just ran out. “Try not to judge him too harshly. He lost everyone he loved because of a feral and stepped into a position he wasn’t ready for, but the pack needed him, so he did it. Pack is everything to him, and he will do anything to save the people he loves. He’s intelligent, but he’s stubborn. Right now, the stubbornness is winning.” He points at the bottle in my hand. “Drink. I must return to the house.”

“You could let me go, then you wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking me water anymore,” I suggest, swigging from the bottle. It goes down faster than I’d intended. I told myself I would savor it, but instead, I drain the contents in seconds. “I mean, if you’re here breaking the rules and all, what’s one more?”

A hint of a smile curls his lips. “That rule I cannot break. The bottle.”

I hesitate.

If I keep hold of it, the Viking would know someone had broken a rule by giving it to me. Maybe I could cause problems between them and create an opportunity to escape that way.

But then I remember what I’m up against.

A guy like the Viking won’t bother sniping with his friend. He’ll just rip out his throat and get some other guard to watch me. There’s no opportunity there.

I screw the lid back on the empty bottle and carefully push it between the bars of my cage.

He watches my hands and then picks up the empty bottle.

“Don’t touch the bars. They are dangerous to us,” he says quietly, and he walks away.

My heart spikes in alarm. “Wait, what!”

The door slams shut after him.

I stare after him, confused, frustrated, and scared. I just had firsthand experience of how dangerous those bars are, but I was alone when that happened. Why is he warning me now?

I peer into all four corners of my cell, and there’s not even a hint of a camera on me.

My eyes return to the closed door.

He was telling me the truth when he gave me that warning. I touched these bars, and I woke up a shell of myself, shivering, trembling, sick, and weak.

It was like my wolf was gone.

Someone removed the chain from around my neck when they put in here, but they had to have put that chain on me for a reason. And I think I know what that reason was.

My wolf was quiet when I was wearing the chain. My usually keen wolf senses were so terrible I could barely tell who was in the throne room.

Something in the metal silences my need to change because I haven’t had the slightest itch to be a wolf since I woke up in here. And, terrifyingly, it mutes my wolf’s voice.

But for how long? For a short time? Forever?

The door crashes open again and I jump.

---