Chapter 11 need plan
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. I could feel the cold sweat on my back and the clammy dampness of my palms around the rusted knife. 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, like the oxygen was being sucked away just by his presence. I stayed rooted to my spot, every inch of me trembling with a primal fear I couldn’t reason away. He took a step into the room, his boots thudding against the worn floorboards. His scent hit me a mix of sweat, iron, and something primal, something distinctly inhuman.
It curdled in my nose like the sour tang of old blood.
"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, his voice holding the kind of stillness that only something dominant could manage. Calm. Patient. Cold.
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. I was only human fragile, breakable but not powerless. 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, scraping against something unnaturally hard beneath his skin, maybe. Werewolves didn’t bleed the same as us. He let out a grunt of surprise and spun around, his eyes blazing with fury, reflecting faint hints of gold in the dim light.
"You little—!" he snarled, grabbing my wrist with a crushing grip. His fingers were like iron bands around my skin. The knife clattered to the floor as I cried out in pain, trying to wrench free. I felt the unnatural heat of his flesh, burning like a fever beneath his skin.
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, slick with sweat and blood, 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."
He stalked forward with a predator's grace, moving in a blur that almost made my stomach turn. I held the knife in front of me, shaking but determined. "Stay back!" I warned, my voice steadier than I expected. The tremor in my arms betrayed me, though my human body couldn’t keep up with the unnatural stillness of theirs.
He took a step forward, and I backed up, my heart pounding. I felt the cold surface of the wall against my back. Trapped. His eyes gleamed, and his canines peeked slightly from beneath his upper lip, as if anticipation had made it impossible to keep them hidden.
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. Her werewolf features were sharper than usual, teeth showing slightly, eyes glowing with protective rage. Her skin was ghostly in the low light, unmarred by age or time.
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. She stood only a few feet away, but I could feel the raw aura of power radiating off her werewolf form. Even in kindness, there was danger.
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."
Her words confused me. I was the only one without speed, without claws, without power. My heart beat. My blood could be spilled. And yet... she had meant it.
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. My bones ached, my muscles sore, I didn’t heal fast like they did. I couldn’t vanish into shadows or seduce with a glance. But I could think. I could fight.
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. Werewolves they didn’t fidget. They didn’t blink. They simply waited.
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, shivering slightly from the cold that only ever seemed to cling to me. The only human. The only heartbeat in a house full of predators.
And somehow, still alive.