Zeke marched into the village dungeon, the air thick with the damp, earthy scent of the underground setting where criminals were locked up for interrogation and punishment. The flickering torches cast long, wavering shadows on the stone walls. After the incident by the springs, Zeke's determination to uncover his father’s secret had only intensified.
“You are facing Alpha Prince Zeke of the West Wood Pack, show your respect!” the guard barked as Zeke entered the room.
Inside, a massive wooden table stood between two sturdy chairs. The captured rogue before him looked younger than the others, with fiery red hair and piercingly cold eyes. When he glanced up at Zeke, he let out a derisive scoff.
Zeke sat down, his gaze unwavering. “This shouldn’t be hard for either of us. I need you to tell me everything you know.”
The rogue, Reo, sat in silence, his eyes defiant. Behind his rebellious facade was a deep loyalty to his pack. Though not as skilled as Naya or Billy, Reo was certainly capable of escaping this dungeon. The only reason he hadn’t was that he and his companions had a mission—they came to find Naya.
“Still not talking, I see,” Zeke said, glancing at Colton. “Bring another one here.”
Colton followed orders, taking Reo away and bringing in another rogue. The same scene repeated itself with each of the four captives. By the time Zeke had questioned all of them, the dungeon’s dim light began to fade as the sun rose, casting its first light of dawn through the narrow, barred windows.
Each interrogation left Zeke more frustrated, the patience in his body wearing thinner and thinner. Yet, giving up wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“The mainland is a vast territory full of packs—big and small,” Zeke began, looking intently at the fourth rogue.
Jeffrey remained silent, his frown deepening. He had been itching to escape and find their leader quickly. Being captured alive was their only chance of entering this pack village, but now that they were here, he desperately wanted to leave. Once they found Naya, they would all leave this place in a heartbeat.
“Hundreds of packs actually exist in this world,” Zeke continued, eyes fixed on Jeffrey like a hunter sizing up his prey.
“What’s the point of saying all this nonsense?” Jeffrey muttered, unable to hold back his annoyance.
Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “But there are some hidden packs that are not counted in the list. For instance, there are two packs across the Moon Seed Lake adjacent to our border.”
This time, the annoyed expression on Jeffrey’s face vanished, replaced by a look of surprise.
A cold flicker flashed through Zeke’s eyes, his voice dropping even lower and colder as he stared at Jeffrey. “You and your companions came from that place, didn’t you?”
Jeffrey’s startled expression said it all. The rogue’s silence and the sudden shift in his demeanor confirmed Zeke’s suspicions. The air in the dungeon seemed to grow colder, the tension palpable as Zeke leaned forward, his eyes boring into Jeffrey’s.
“Tell me,” Zeke said, “what is your real reason for coming to our pack?” He leaned in closer, his eyes piercing into Jeffrey's. “Which pack do you belong to?”
. . .
Outside the West Wood Pack Southern Borders.
Kevin adjusted his black mask as he sprinted through the dense underbrush toward the woods where he had left Sage. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows that danced on the forest floor. The rhythmic rush of the nearby waterfall masked the sound of his footsteps. Sage, in the middle of sharpening her daggers, remained unaware of Kevin’s approach until his shadow loomed over her. She spun around, thrusting the dagger toward his face with practiced precision.
“It’s me!” Kevin exclaimed, raising both hands in surrender.
Sage let out a sigh of relief, lowering her weapon. Her eyes, sharp and alert, softened slightly as she recognized him. Kevin's chest heaved as he caught his breath.
Kevin and Sage had been watching the border for two days, hoping to see their captain, Naya. However, there was no sign of her, not even her shadow.
Slowly, Kevin took out two pieces of bread from his pocket. “This took some time, I couldn’t find the trees you mentioned earlier.”
Sage’s brow furrowed, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. “And where did you get this?”
“Some traveler,” Kevin said, then he paused and added, “There are suspicious-looking men who have gathered around a campfire nearby. I overheard them talking about the springs dying.”
Sage took the bread. “Springs dying? Were they from the West Wood Pack?”
Kevin shrugged, taking a big gulp of his own bread. “I’m not sure, but one of them might be a general. He’s wearing a big cloak like General Gaston.”
The mention of her uncle's name made Sage pause. A general from another pack camping outside the West Wood Pack borders? It didn’t make sense. She pondered the implications, her mind racing with possibilities.
“By the way, Sage, what about Jeffrey and the rest? Aren’t we going to save them?” Kevin asked.
His childlike face as he gobbled his food made him seem more like an innocent child than a warrior. Only the Midnight Seven knew how skilled he truly was, especially in terms of running. This was the main reason their captain, Naya, had chosen him to be part of the team, despite his slowness in other areas.
“Don’t worry about them,” Sage said, taking another bite of bread. “They have to find a way to see Captain inside. That’s why we’re out here, just in case she isn’t within the West Wood Pack territory.”
Kevin finished the last crumbs of his bread, content and slightly more at ease. The night was calm, the only sounds were the distant hoot of an owl and the persistent rush of the waterfall. They decided to set up camp for the night and wait for sunrise, hoping to receive more messages from Jeffrey and their team inside.
But just as they were about to prepare, the quiet of the night was shattered by a man’s voice shouting nearby. “Don’t let him escape!”
Kevin and Sage exchanged quick, alarmed glances. They scrambled to hide behind a large tree, their breaths shallow and quiet. Peering through the foliage, they saw three men emerge, dragging a middle-aged man in tribal clothing. His knees buckled as he pleaded for his life, tears streaming down his face.
“Please, have mercy! I’m just a mere messenger, I know nothing!” he cried, his voice breaking with fear.
The tallest of the three men, a hulking figure with a grim expression, stepped forward carrying an ax larger than his own arm. The sound of its blade scraping against the sheath sent a shiver down Sage’s spine.
He loomed over the messenger, who cowered at his feet. “Are you saying I have a weak judgment?” the tall man asked dangerously, his muscular build making him even more intimidating.
His companion, a man with cold, protruding eyes, chimed in. “What ordinary messenger delivers a poisonous drink to a person? Do you take the General for a fool?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Sage and Kevin exchanged a knowing glance. This was the general Kevin had mentioned, but he clearly wasn’t from the West Wood Pack... Or, was he?
“P-Please, it’s not me. I was only following orders… Please spare me, my Lord,” the messenger continued to plead, his forehead touching the dirt in desperation. “Please don’t kill me, I’m the only one left for my sister. Please take me as your prisoner instead… I swear to serve you forever!”
There was a tense silence before the general let out a huff of amusement. “Look up here,” he ordered.
The messenger slowly raised his head, hope flickering in his eyes. But it was quickly extinguished as the sound of a blade slicing through flesh filled the air.
Sage and Kevin froze, horror etched on their faces.
“Wrong choice of words,” the general said coldly, staring down at the lifeless body at his feet. “I don’t take prisoners, you fool.”