The cold bites my skin like a dozen tiny knives as the guards shove me forward. Chains rattle against stone floors that echo like a sinister drumbeat. My wrists ache, my legs feel like lead, and every instinct screams *run*, *scream*, *do something*, but I can't. I'm human. I'm weak. And in this place, that might as well be a death sentence.
"Keep moving," one of the guards growls, teeth bared in a wolfish snarl. "Don't fuck it up before he decides what to do with you."
"Yeah, no pressure," I mutter under my breath, dragging my feet. "Just your average stroll through death row."
They ignore me. Their eyes — glowing faintly gold in the torchlight — are unsettling, sharp, calculating. I can feel them sizing me up like I'm prey.
We stop at a massive iron door. One shove later, and I stumble into a cell that reeks of rot, damp stone, and iron. The chains are removed, but a thick iron collar clamps onto my neck, heavy and cruel.
"Stay alive," the guard sneers. "Not that it matters."
And then they're gone. Silence falls. My back presses to the wall, shivering, stomach twisting. I curse everything: my curiosity, my laptop, my life.
---
A rustle in the shadows makes me freeze. A figure steps forward, tall, wiry, with sharp green eyes that gleam like a predator. Her skin has a faint shimmer, almost like scales catching the torchlight. Long, clawed fingers flex as she approaches. She's not human. Something about her radiates danger — wild, untamed, and predatory.
"You're the new one," she says, her voice low and sharp. "And you look terrified. Fucking typical."
I glare. "I'd be terrified in a place where giant wolf-men can snap your neck before breakfast."
She laughs, but it's not warm. "Name's Mira. You're not used to creatures like me, huh? Don't worry, most humans piss themselves on day one."
I bristle. "Yeah, funny. Real helpful."
Her grin is wicked. "Helpful? I don't do helpful. I do survive. And if you want to last five minutes in this hell, you're going to need to learn fast. Maybe from me, maybe from the floor."
I want to punch her. Or scream. Or both. Instead, I shrink back, realizing that I'm utterly outclassed. Mira is **not someone to trust**, and I can feel her enjoying that.
"Great," I mutter. "Chains, collars, monsters, and now a non-human bitch who hates me. Could life get any better?"
Mira tilts her head, fangs flashing. "Don't get cute. You're human. I don't care about your feelings. But survive, and maybe I'll tolerate your presence. Maybe."
---
Hours blur into what feels like days. The cell is cold, dark, echoing with distant screams. Then, from the shadows, a soft, commanding voice cuts through:
"She's awake," the voice says.
Kairo.
The golden-eyed king glides into the dungeon like a shadow made flesh. He doesn't walk — he dominates. Every inch of him screams *don't fuck with me*. My stomach twists as he stops just in front of me, eyes scanning me like fragile prey.
"You're in my kingdom now," he says. "And survival isn't optional."
I bite back a laugh, bitter and dry. "Oh, fantastic. Sign me the fuck up for this one."
His eyes flash — amusement, irritation, and something darker. "Bold. Careful. That will get you killed."
Mira mutters under her breath, sharp and dangerous: "Ignore him. Survive first. Or die."
---
The next day, I'm dragged to the court. The hallway opens into a massive chamber, circular and lit by braziers that throw dancing shadows across furs, leathers, and gold. Hundreds of eyes lock on me — wolves, humans, nobles — each one measuring, judging, threatening.
At the center, on a raised dais, stands Kairo. Calm, untouchable, lethal. His golden eyes sweep the court, then settle on me. My chest tightens.
And then I see her.
**Sylara Veyne.** Silver hair cascading like liquid metal, blue eyes cold and sharp as knives. Her lips curl into a smirk so venomous it makes my stomach twist. She's gorgeous and terrifying, and I know immediately: she hates me.
"You're still breathing?" she says, loud enough for the court to hear. "I thought the king would've fed you to the wolves by now."
Kairo tilts his head, expression unreadable. "She lives. For now."
Sylara huffs, clearly displeased. "My father will not be happy."
Whispers ripple through the chamber. The nobles exchange glances. Wolves bare teeth, lean forward. The air itself feels alive, dangerous.
From the shadows, **Seren Alvara** steps forward, her black cloak flowing like liquid darkness. Her eyes are cold, calculating, and sharp as daggers.
"You've arrived," she says softly, but her voice carries in the room. "Be careful, human. Not all of them wish you well."
I nod, trying not to tremble. "Right. Great advice, thanks."
She smirks faintly. "Don't thank me. You'll need to learn fast. Or you'll die."
---
The council of Alphas leans forward, old, powerful, judgmental. Their voices are low but sharp as knives. "Why keep her alive?" one asks. "She's human. A liability. A curse?"
Kairo's golden eyes sweep over them. "She stays. One mistake, she dies. But her survival serves a purpose. And for now… I am her protector."
Sylara's smile tightens. "She will ruin everything."
I feel my stomach drop. This isn't just survival. This is **navigating a court full of predators**, political games, rivalries, and alliances I don't understand.
Twist.
Kairo smirks, stepping closer, voice low and lethal. "Your first lesson: survive the court. And perhaps, survive her."
I grit my teeth, swallowing my fear. "Fantastic," I mutter. "Enemies on all sides, chains on my neck, and a king who's probably about to test me. Perfect start to my new life."
Mira leans close, green eyes glinting. "Stick close… or die. I don't care which."
I glance at her. We're not friends. Not even close. But if I want to survive, I'll have to learn to tolerate her. Maybe.
And somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark of defiance lights up.
Bring it on.