Chapter 50: Chapter Fifty

Saffron laid in bed all day, her gaze fixed on the yellowed plastic ceiling, thoughts running amok.

It was the first time since she had found herself serving as a slave to the Blood Moon gang that she hadn’t rushed to do the job she had been tasked with, throwing all caution to the wind, because the last thing she wanted was to go out, and pretend like everything was okay. To pretend that what was going on was right, and didn’t go against the basic human principles.

It was barbaric, how the Alpha roped parents into given up their children, just to pay off their debts which were incurred by addiction. But, what was more barbaric was the attacks that occurred on the island, attacks that were targeted specifically on the slaves, attacks which the Alpha had turned a blind eye to.

Saffron wondered not for the first time, if something was going on, something that she was clearly missing, something that explained away all the odd things that occurred on the island, which made absolutely no sense to her.

Heaving herself up from her reclined position, Saffron grabbed the pen and paper she had stolen from Lydia’s office earlier, and began to scribble down every odd thing she had seen or experienced on the island. Perhaps, that would help her make sense of them, and realize that she wasn’t crazy at all.

1.The inhuman strength the islanders possess.

2.The sometimes animalistic urges that overcame the adult islanders.

3.The way they hissed the words ‘filthy human’ to every slave on the island. Why? Aren’t they humans too?

4.Strange dreams after my escape from the Alpha’s dungeon.

5.My miraculous recovery from having my throat crushed.

6.The wolf man who had chased me into the woods. How was I able to run even when my throat had been hurt badly? And why didn’t I remember anything about that?

7.How did I survive the fall down the cliff?

8.The dream about the wolf in the meadow.

9.How the slaves were ordered to stay inside, every night when there was a full moon. Why? What happened on the night of a full moon?

10.Myra’s attack. How had she been able to change into a wolf right in front of my eyes, and back to human? Why hadn’t her friends freaked out?

11.The changes in my body. Why am I faster, and stronger?

12.The thing with the floor. Had I hallucinated it all, or had the mud been real too?

Saffron stared at the list she had made for a moment, before she turned the paper began a new list again.

Before Captivity

1.A voice in my head.

2.Cold not affecting me.

3.Clear night vision.

4.Sick during every full moon.

5.Strange dreams about wolves that I don’t remember.

She stared at the second list she had made, before flipping the page back to the first list, her brows furrowing, as she tried to connect the dots between her past life and her present life.

Every single thing she had written pointed towards something that went beyond the realm of her understanding.

There was no way that werewolves existed, no way that she was actually living among them.

No, she refused to believe that.

It didn’t make sense. But also, it did.

It explained a whole lot more than anything ever could.

But, how was it possible?

If that were true, and werewolves truly existed, then how were they able to shapeshift?

And how were they able to keep their entire existence secret, when they dealt with humans on a regular basis, through illegal channels?

Or, do the humans know? Do the people who conduct business with them know the truth about them?

Was she one also? A werewolf? Is that why the Alpha hadn’t ordered her death, even when he knew that she had killed his second in command?

Was that the reason why he had kept interrogating her? All those questions he and Alaric Vaughn had kept asking her while she had been in the dungeon made sense to her now.

The Alpha thought she had infiltrated his lands at the orders of someone else. Was there a grain of truth in that?

Had there been a reason why he had thought so? Did it have something to do with her mother?

But how? What connection did her mother have with this place? With a mafia gang of all places? Was that connection the reason why her father had chosen a life of gambling and drinking, instead of taking care of his only daughter? Did gambling make him feel connected to her mother somehow, even while she was dead?

Saffron let out a groan of frustration, balling the paper and throwing it against the wall, before thrusting her hand through her hair.

She was grasping at straws, Saffron knew it. But now that she had began trailing this train of thought, she couldn’t help but feel a certain conviction that her mother had a connection to this place, that her past was somehow roped within the intricacies of a mafia gang.

Whether it was this one, or another she was yet to know of, Saffron had no idea. But, come hell or high water, she was going to find out the truth of her origin, and get the answers to all the burning questions she had.

Somehow, she was going to get to the bottom of this, starting with finding out why the Alpha had kept her alive all this while.

But, there was a pressing question that remained; how? How was she going to get the answers that she needed, when she had no idea where to start from.

‘Now would be a good time for you to talk to me, you know? I have an idea that you know more than you let on, and that you’re not just a voice that has manifested inside my head,' she spoke inwardly, cocking her head to the side, as if she might be able to see the voice.

When she got nothing in response, she huffed out a breath before she slipped off the bed, and headed towards her drawer in search of something to wear.

She rummaged through the meager collection of clothes Lydia had given her, her first day as a slave, picking out a worn t-shirt and grey sweatpants which were a touch too big for her.

The sharp knock that came on the door startled her into full awareness, making her drop the clothes on the floor, a gasp of surprise escaping her lips.

“Coming,” she called out, as she bent and picked her fallen clothes, before she traipsed towards the door, her brows pinched in confusion, as she wondered who was at the door, and why they had come knocking.

She grabbed the door handle and pulled, her expression morphing from confusion to thunderous, as she came face to face with the person outside.

“You have the nerve to show your face here, after what you did to me!”