She heard the lock turn in the door. She felt the hairs stand up. The footsteps were heavier, she swore. This was the first time she had ever heard anything like this. Before this the food had been put in through a slot in the door. Sometimes she would wake up to find the food there. She didn't want to know what was behind that door. 

She had no idea how long she had been here. Fifteen hours or fifteen days, with nothing to but the flicker of the lightbulb it was hard to know. Now that her ears had adjusted to the noise, she could make out the faint noises above: the only company was the sounds of domestic life one usually takes for granted, emanating from up above: the noise of the taps, the boiling of the kettle, the faint flushing of the toilet, the tinkle of cutlery, the creak of footsteps on old floorboards. She tried to look for any clue of where she might be, but the only clue so far was the ascending footsteps that followed the delivery of each meal. She was in a basement of some kind. 

The door swung open, the perfectly oiled hinges making only the tiniest of noises. She started, then relaxed. Light streamed from the staircase above, a lot more than before. It was daylight. 

 As she predicted It was not the maid. The figure was unmistakeably masculine, She was looking at a high-ranking wolf. There was an aura that made her immediately anxious and oddly exhilarated, at the same time. 

As her eyes adjusted to the light it was the first good look she had of him. His skin was scarred with acne, and looking closely it was obvious his nose had been broken at some stage. She could sense the heft under his tailored suit. There was something in the air, almost tingling with raw power. An aura. She didn't believe in that kind of stuff. But now she could almost reconcile her own beliefs with what she was experiencing.

He seemed strangely familiar. Where had she seen him? Her mind was a blank in his presence. She could literally think about nothing but him. 

"I would like to extend my apologies for the accomodation," he said. His voice was deep, soothing. Why was he being so polite? 

"Please let me go." She tried to push past him. Not seriously, just a tiny nudge to see if he would relent. What was she thinking? Was she trying to get herself killed? The smell of his cologne hung heavily in the air. 

"It's not safe for you outside right now," he said, blocking her. His eyes were mesmerising, flashing orange. She found it impossible to look away. "There are people who might... take an interest in you. I promise you I will let you out when it is safe." 

"I want you to let me go," she said, testing the waters. She was confident that he would not attack her now. "My family is worried sick about me." 

"I don't think that's a good option." He replied in the deep voice she felt entranced by. "The woods around here are treacherous. It's simply not safe." 

She asked the question she had been waiting to ask. "Where are we?"

 You are on the territory of my pack," he said. "The Winter Oak pack, on the south side of the Independent Territories. A hour's drive from the border." 

The mention of the Winter Oak pack stirred up another memory in the recesses of her mind. Dale had done business with them, hadn't he? She couldn't remember for sure. She had never really been interested in his business dealings. The memories would come to her, or so she hoped. It could just be another pack with a similar name. There were dozens of them, surely. Once again her total lack of knowledge about packs was letting her down. 

"You must have brought me here," she said. "Why did you bring me here?" 

"You will find out soon about that," he said, somewhat enigmatically. "We have until the next full moon." 

"The next full moon?" 

"Just hang tight. Just a few more days and I'll be able to get you to the surface. And then we can talk." Something about those last few words made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

He embraced her. The touch of his hands was cold. She could feel it was not going to work. She felt repulsion but she went along and let him hold her for she did not know what the backlash would be if she resisted. 

"What day is it?" She ventured. 

Thursday," he said, matter-of-factly. That day had been a Monday, So that was what three days felt like. 

"I've got to leave," he said, planting a cold kiss on her cheek. "I have things to attend to." 

The door shut behind him. She breathed in, taking in what he had just said. He had not answered any of her questions, and there were so many more that she had not even thought to ask in his brief presence. Only twenty-six days. She knew how fast twenty-six days could pass. In a windowless room, it would come even faster.