Clark's POV:
And then—the stage.
A raised platform bathed in sickly red light. Two humans on their knees, hands bound behind their backs, while a wolf circled them slowly, lazily, like a predator playing with prey. The humans' eyes were blank, lips trembling.
My throat closed.
I couldn't look, but I couldn't stop looking. My stomach twisted into tighter knots, nausea clawing up my throat.
Everywhere I turned, the truth pressed in harder.
Humans weren't guests here.
They weren't even people.
They were props. Toys. Flesh.
And I—purple leash digging against my throat—I was one of them now.
The wolves glanced at me as Reed led me through. Their eyes lingered, curious, amused, hungry. Some smirked, some whispered, others simply stared with that same look you give a meal before taking the first bite.
Shame burned hot on my face. My skin prickled under their gazes, my chest tightening until I thought I'd collapse.
I wanted to disappear.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted out.
