Chapter 9 The Hidden Passage
The night had settled heavily over the pack grounds, thick and cool like a second skin. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, dimming the moonlight until only a pale glow filtered through. The guards along the walls spoke in low tones, unaware of the quiet figure moving through the shadows beneath them.
Alberto kept his steps silent as he crossed the courtyard, hugging the darker edges where the moon could not reach. Every sound made him tense. Every breeze seemed too loud. He clutched the folded map inside his cloak, the one Darius had given him just hours earlier. His heart thudded like a frantic drum, but he forced himself to breathe slowly.
He repeated the directions in his mind. Past the empty stables. Through the old storage shed. Down the stairwell hidden behind the crates. A tunnel dug during the old war, forgotten by most, remembered only by those who lived through it. Darius had spoken of it with certainty, warning Alberto not to be caught by anyone, not even by pack members who would think he had no business there.
Alberto reached the shed, slipping inside with a look over his shoulder. The air within was heavy with dust and the scent of old hay. He pushed aside the crates just as Darius had instructed, and behind them the dark stone steps descended into the ground.
A part of him wanted to pause, to steady himself. But hesitation would only make him weaker. And he had promised himself he would not be weak tonight.
He started down the steps.
At first the silence soothed him. The tunnel walls glowed faintly from the moss that clung to the stone. The narrow passage smelled of earth, damp and cold. His footsteps echoed softly, the only sound accompanying him. He kept walking, drawing closer to the exit that would lead him out of the pack territory.
But before he reached the final bends of the tunnel, he heard it. Voices. Low, rough, and definitely not belonging to guards.
He stiffened and moved slower.
The tunnel widened into a small hollow space where old supply crates and rusted tools had been abandoned. Three figures stood there, their backs initially turned to him. At first glance they looked like workers or servants. Then one of them shifted enough for Alberto to recognize their faces.
Slaves. Just like him.
His breath caught. He knew them only vaguely, had seen them cleaning the training grounds or carrying heavy loads while their overseers barked orders. He had never spoken to them. Most slaves kept to themselves, knowing that friendships could be used against them.
One of the men, tall and thin with uneven hair, turned fully around and stopped when he saw Alberto. A grin spread across his face, slow and mocking.
'Well look at this,' he said with a snort. 'The golden boy himself.'
The second man laughed sharply. 'Careful. His presence might blind us. I heard the Alpha spent good money on him.'
Alberto swallowed and kept a careful distance. He did not want trouble. Not tonight of all nights.
He attempted to walk past them, keeping his eyes on the tunnel beyond. 'I am not here for you. I need to get through.'
The tall slave stepped in front of him, blocking the path. 'You need to get through? What for? Running to your master to warm his bed again?'
Alberto froze.
The third slave, a stockier man with hard eyes, joined in. 'Tell us. What did you offer to get purchased like a prized pet? Did you beg on your knees? Did you lift your tail so the Alpha would consider you worth keeping?'
Laughter erupted from the group. Loud. Cruel.
Alberto felt heat rising in his chest, not anger at first but humiliation. The kind that burned deep. He tried again to step away from them.
'I am leaving. I do not want trouble.'
The tall one shoved him back with a hand to his chest. Not hard enough to knock him down, but enough to make a point.
'You do not want trouble?' he said with a sneer. 'Then why did you come here looking like you are sneaking out? Maybe you think you are better than us now.'
'I do not,' Alberto said. His voice strained. 'I never thought that.'
Another shove. Harder this time.
'You think we are blind? The Alpha defended you. The Beta watches you. You walk around like you are something special. But you are just like us. Lower than dirt.'
'Albertos special treatment is temporary,' the second slave muttered. 'When Fernando gets tired of him, he will end up back here with the rest of us.'
Alberto clenched his jaw. He did not trust himself to speak.
He reached again for the tunnel path, hoping to slip by them before they caused more trouble. But the stocky slave grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back.
'Where are you going in such a hurry?'
Alberto reacted on instinct and twisted free. The movement surprised them for a moment. He almost made it past, steps light and fast.
But the tall slave grabbed his cloak from behind and pulled him back violently. Alberto stumbled, falling to his knees.
'You think you can walk away from us?' he hissed.
Alberto pushed up to his feet. 'Move. I need to go.'
The second slave moved so fast Alberto barely registered it. A fist slammed into the side of his head, sending him crashing against the wall. Pain exploded in his skull. His vision blurred.
He tried to stand.
The stocky man lunged and slammed him to the ground.
Alberto gasped, his chest crushed under the weight. Panic clawed up his spine. He struggled, but the man was stronger. Humiliation turned quickly into fear.
The tall slave knelt beside him, pulling something from his belt. For a moment Alberto thought it was a normal blade. Then the faint metallic smell hit him. His stomach twisted.
Silver.
The tall one dragged the point along Alberto's jaw, slow enough to make him shiver. 'Fernando will not keep you,' he whispered coldly. 'He will get rid of you. And when he does, he will need someone better. Someone like me.'
The dagger hovered above Alberto's throat. His breath caught.
'I will not let you take what should be mine,' the man said.
Alberto used the only strength he had left and kicked upward. His foot connected with the man's stomach. The impact pushed him back enough that Alberto wriggled free and rolled to his feet.
He tried to run.
A hand caught his arm.
The silver blade plunged into his side.
He screamed. The sound tore from his throat raw and violent. Pain seared through him like fire. Silver crawled under his skin like poison. He fell to the ground, his vision shattering into pieces.
The tall slave leaned down, breathing hard. His eyes were wild.
'Fernando will only be mine,' he spat.
Alberto clutched his side, warm blood spilling through his fingers. His breaths came sharp and uneven. The tunnel spun around him. He crawled backward, desperate to get away.
The second slave grabbed his bag, ripping it from his shoulder. 'Thanks for the supplies,' he said mockingly.
They laughed as they stepped away, disappearing into the darkness of another passage. Their footsteps faded until the tunnel fell silent again.
Alberto lay there, trembling. His hand pressed tightly against the wound, but the blood only seeped through faster. The silver burned him from the inside, weakening him with every passing second.
He forced himself onto his hands and knees. The world tilted dangerously. His vision dimmed at the edges. But he could not stay here. If he stayed, he would die.
Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself toward the tunnel exit. Every movement sent agony through his body. His breathing turned shallow. Sweat dampened his forehead despite the cold air.
He crawled.
One slow step at a time.
The tunnel stretched endlessly before him. The light from the exit flickered like a distant star he could barely reach. He pressed a hand against the stone wall to steady himself, smearing it with blood.
He did not know how long it took him to reach the final bend. His legs trembled. His hands shook violently. His head grew lighter with every heartbeat. The silver continued to burn, tearing through muscle and will alike.
His bag was gone. His supplies were gone. His strength was fading.
But he kept moving.
At last he reached the hidden door at the end of the tunnel. Cool night air swept over him, carrying the scent of pine and damp leaves. He leaned heavily against the frame, gasping for breath.
He stepped outside.
His knees gave out.
The forest tilted and spun until he could no longer tell ground from sky. His fingers clawed at the earth, desperate to hold on.
He collapsed forward, the world dimming into darkness, his blood soaking into the forest floor.
And alone under the cover of the trees, with no supplies, no map, and fading breaths, Alberto whispered one final promise to himself before consciousness slipped away.
He would not die here.
Not yet.