Won't trust anyone

Won't trust anyone
The door suddenly rattled, jolting me from my panicked thoughts. My grip tightened on the knife, my heart hammering in my chest as I pressed myself against the wall beside the door. The knob twisted, the sound of keys jingling faintly. Someone was coming in.

I held my breath, every muscle in my body tense. The door creaked open, and a shadow fell across the floor. A deep, gravelly voice spoke, low and commanding. "I know you're in here. Come out quietly, and I might go easy on you."

The air felt heavy, suffocating, as I stayed rooted to my spot. He took a step into the room, his boots thudding against the worn floorboards. His scent hit me—a mix of alcohol and something primal, something dangerous.

"Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, the Alpha sent you here in the whorehouse for us to use you" he said, his tone dripping with menace.

I clenched the knife so tightly that the rusted edges bit into my palm. If I had to fight, I would. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Slowly, he moved further into the room, his back now partially turned to me.

This was my chance.

I lunged, aiming the blade at his side. The attack wasn’t graceful, but it was fueled by desperation. The dull blade barely pierced his thick leather jacket, but the force of the blow startled him. He let out a grunt of surprise and spun around, his eyes blazing with fury.

"You little—!" he snarled, grabbing my wrist with a crushing grip. The knife clattered to the floor as I cried out in pain, trying to wrench free.

Adrenaline surged through me, and I kicked wildly, my foot connecting with his shin. He stumbled back, releasing me just long enough for me to dive for the knife. My fingers closed around it, and I scrambled to my feet, panting.

"You're feisty," he said with a wicked grin, his voice laced with mockery. "But that won't save you. The alpha doesn’t want you"

I held the knife in front of me, shaking but determined. "Stay back!" I warned, my voice steadier than I expected.

He took a step forward, and I backed up, my heart pounding. I felt the cold surface of the wall against my back. Trapped.

Just as he lunged toward me, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. A sharp voice called out, "Leave her alone, Derrick!"

The man hesitated, his head snapping toward the door. Jane stood there, her face pale but her eyes burning with determination. She held a crowbar in her hands, her knuckles white around the handle.

Derrick sneered. "This isn’t your business, Jane."

"It is now," she shot back, stepping into the room. "You touch her, and you'll answer to the Alpha himself. You know the rules."

For a moment, the tension crackled like a live wire. Then, with a growl of frustration, Derrick backed off, spitting on the floor before storming out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Jane exhaled shakily, lowering the crowbar. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.

I nodded, though my hands were still trembling. "Why did you help me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Jane hesitated, her expression unreadable. "Because I know what it’s like to be cornered," she said finally. "And because... maybe you’re stronger than the rest of us."

She turned to leave but paused at the door. "If you want to survive this, you’re going to have to start trusting someone. Even if it’s just a little."

With that, she was gone, leaving me alone with the knife still clutched in my hand and the faint hope that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t completely alone in this nightmare.

I slumped against the wall, the knife slipping from my fingers to the floor with a dull clink. Jane’s words echoed in my mind, weaving a fragile thread of hope through the despair that threatened to consume me.

Trust someone? The very idea felt foreign, like a language I couldn’t understand. I had survived this long by relying on no one but myself. And yet, Jane had just saved me, risking her own safety in the process. Why?

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs shaky but determined. If I was going to get out of this place, I needed more than defiance and desperation. I needed a plan.

My first step was to gather more information. What was this place, really? How many guards were there? Were there other girls like Jane who could be allies—or at least distractions? I had to know the layout, the routines, the weaknesses. Every prison had cracks, and I was determined to find them.

I crossed the room to the small window, prying at the edges of the nailed-down frame. It didn’t budge, but I could see a sliver of the world outside. The courtyard below was surrounded by high walls topped with razor wire, but I spotted a small gate near the far corner. Two guards stood by it, their postures relaxed. If I could find a way to distract them...

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped me back to the present. I moved quickly, grabbing the knife and shoving it into the waistband of my pants. I then closed the door and retreated to the corner of the room.