Cable's heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he followed the guard. Each step on the slick, wet stone stairs seemed to lead them deeper into a forgotten age. The flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows that made the grimy walls feel as if they were closing in. He could hear Hannah's soft, fearful whimpers behind him, a sound that tore at his gut. Reaching back, he found his mate's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, though his own palm was slick with sweat.
The air grew heavy and cold, thick with the damp, earthy smell of old clay and something else—something rotting and animalistic. It was the scent of a hundred years of forgotten beasts. The guard's leather armor creaked with each step, a sinister counterpoint to the quiet scrape of their shoes on the hard clay floor. He held his flaming torch aloft, its light barely penetrating the absolute darkness. As he walked, he'd briefly press the flame to a torch on the wall, and with a hiss and a flare, a new circle of light would appear, illuminating the damp, dark corridor.
Most of the cells were empty, their silver bars gleaming eerily in the dim light. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the echo of their footsteps. A sudden, ragged whimper from one of the cells ahead caused Hannah to jump, her grip on Cable's hand tightening like a vise. A faint, earthy scent mixed with the smell of waste wafted from the first occupied cell, and in the fleeting light of a newly lit torch, Cable saw a pair of dull, gray eyes watching them from the shadows. A she-wolf, matted and grimy, watched them with a look of emptiness. He tried not to look away, but the guard kept walking, his primitive light source leading the way toward the last cell.
The guard stopped before the final cell, the light from his torch illuminating the figure within. Cable and Hannah gasped. Inside, on a floor of hard, cold clay, was their son, Timothy. A silver collar was clasped around his neck, a heavy chain anchored to the wall. The skin and fur around his throat were burned by the silver, his fur plastered into the wounds that wouldn't heal. He was huddled in the far corner, a small, sad-looking figure in the gloom. An open, circular hole in the floor near the wall revealed the dirty clay beneath, a tell-tale sign of his animal instincts, an act he would never do otherwise. A small, slotted opening at the bottom of the cell door, a place to slide in food, was a constant reminder of the inhumanity of this place.
Hannah's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a sob. Cable felt his legs go weak. The journey to their son felt like a descent into hell, a horrifying contrast to the humble life they had known. His work on the high school grounds and her time spent watching the pups of the pack seemed a world away now, a life of simple comfort that had been brutally shattered. They stood frozen, the harsh reality of their son's imprisonment staring them in the face, feeling as if they had just stepped out of time and into a nightmare.
Hannah couldn't make sense of what was happening. She felt like a woman cursed and punished so severely. What else could explain it? She had a perfect little baby, only for him to be ripped away from her when his wolf didn't appear. Then, to have him brought back years later as a grown man, she had thought she was lucky. But then this happened. Whatever curse she had was a plague that kept harming her son, her entire family. She wheeled on her knees, moving closer to the cells and reaching her hands through the bars.
She watched as he growled, a sound deep and low in his throat. But he didn't try to come any closer. Her son's large blond wolf kept pacing back and forth, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Timmy," she cried, hoping her scent would give him some peace.
"What will happen to him? He didn't mean to do anything. Our son's a good boy." Caleb turned on his knees, begging the guard, pleading with him to let them bring their son home. They would keep him under control. They would make sure he didn't harm anyone and figure out a way to help him shift back.
"It's not up to me, Caleb. You know that." Robin felt bad for the pair, but he couldn't help. No one could. If the beta had been here, that is who he would have spoken to for them.
The dungeon was filled with the sounds of despair, everything one would expect to hear: the desperate cries of a mother, a father begging and pleading for his son, and the growls of a wolf unsure of what to do.
All of this loaded into Adrian's ears as he took each step down the dungeon stairs, leading him to the pitiful scene at the end. His steps echoed across the dungeon, quieting the noise. The light splashed as his steps made contact with some of the puddles that had leaked through the cracks in the foundation. With each step, the sounds of the dungeon grew quieter, as if it had been abandoned by all and replaced with the sounds of racing heartbeats and shallow breaths.