A screeching noise jolted my body back to life and before I was fully awake, a voice crying in pain followed. With my breathing as light as possible, I quickly made the decision to remain still, keep my eyes shut and my presence unnoticeable. At the very least, even if it was just for a short period, I'd be able to concentrate on locating the source of the sound before scanning my surroundings.

After maintaining the same posture for a few more seconds, unable to hear anything else and with a freezing air caressing my skin, I gently opened my eyes, partly out of fear of discovering whether there was anyone else here with me. The total darkness that enveloped me, though, didn't help much, nor did the terrible, stale scent that permeated the air.

After a couple of blinks, my eyes finally adjusted to the blackness, and I immediately spotted my feet, naked and bloodied, followed by my dress, ripped and filthy, as if I had been dragged across a rough surface. As I struggled to recall any of the events of the previous day, desperate to figure out what had happened to me in the meantime, a woman let out another heavy howl, as if her body was being abused, her cry reaching my heart and making me experience her pain.

"Zara," I immediately whispered her name and I shuddered in fear as I recognised her voice, sobbing in agony.

By completely disregarding a potential threat lurking, I tried to stand, only to discover that my wrists were shackled together, the metallic end piercing into the ground. Turning my focus to the lock, I frantically shook and tugged my wrists in an attempt to free myself, but to no avail.

The metal pressed hard against my skin, yet it didn't hurt, much to my surprise, even though I didn't know how much longer. Flicking my eyes a few more times, I managed to scan my surroundings, this being my first attempt to find out where I was after all.

At first glance, I noted the filthy stones that covered the floor, which I already knew because my heels sank into the cold, rough surface, and the dark-colored walls, which gave the sense of an old dungeon or an abandoned basement, unfurnished and forgotten.

I already knew I was imprisoned somewhere in enemy land as of the last memory I had before I lost consciousness. Looking around and noting the rusted shackles and ropes strewn across the floor, I couldn't help but wonder how many others had been captivated in this room before me.

How many men and vampires have suffered and died violently at the hands of those nasty creatures. Honestly, it wasn't going to be the first time I would witness an enemy in captivity, being tortured for information or for pleasure, it was only the first time I would be on the receiving end of such treatment. Fortunately or not, I've seen how far we'd go to break someone's spirit. And, while I was not proud of the atrocities we have committed in the past, extreme measures were sometimes needed to preserve our peace.

Given that the werewolves would go to any length to secure their independence and keep us at distance, or, better still, under submission, my situation would be no different. After all, I was found beside Zara, the next great lady and world leader, on the night of her waking. Were they fully aware of the importance of the evening, I truly had no idea nor I cared. My one and only concern was whether they were aware that Zara was actually more fragile than she had ever been.

Her body had weakened over the years, and her abilities had faded, leaving only her mind to strengthen. Because it was her only weapon at the time, she'd learned to use it against anyone, and that's exactly what I planned to do. If I wanted to stand a chance against them, I needed to be as cunning as possible. Unfortunately, Zara was the more level-headed of the two of us, mulling over every word before speaking, whilst I was the one who snapped for no apparent reason. And, to be honest, I had to confess that the werewolves had proven to be smarter than we have given them credit for.

Her voice echoed again, causing the walls to tremble with intensity. Her cries for help made me weak, as I knew she was in excruciating pain since she had let her enemies know, and I feverishly struggled to free my hands, scraping my skin horribly. The pain I was experiencing was nothing compared to what Zara was going through, and I felt helpless as I had no idea how to reach her.

She shouldn't be too far away, or her voice wouldn't be as audible, but this was uncharted ground. Even if she could have been on the other side of the locked door, the possibility of losing my life in my search for her seemed all but definite. Acting irresponsibly would not only not rescue her, but would also most likely kill us faster.

An abrupt opening of the door shook me out of my thoughts and made me look at where a bright light radiated. I tried to get a peek of the outside by stretching as far as I could, but I couldn't. The door wasn't too far away, but the angle didn't work in my favor. Only a second later, someone stood by the doorframe, the external glow making it impossible to see anything other than a black figure, as if he were a shadow.

"Good morning, my lady," he greeted without taking another step and I instantly got goosebumps.

His voice sounded warm and soft, with a trace of irony, and if we were in a different situation, I could have liked him. But we weren't, and given the circumstances, I honestly believed his heart was colder than the room's. Besides, Zara's screams made me feel nothing but misery and agony, and given that I, too, was shackled to the floor, I knew this man wasn't going to help me.

He eventually took a couple more steps inside and locked the door behind him, leaving me with little choice but to shake my hands again in an attempt to break free. To be honest, I wasn't any surprised as I was once again unsuccessful, and so I instinctively crawled backwards till I hit a wall, while he came to a halt in front of an old wooden piece of furniture.

I still couldn't examine his features nor acknowledge his intentions as he opened some drawers, searching for what exactly I wasn't sure. After a while, he lit a candle, instantly lighting the room with a weak light, but he didn't stop looking about. The tension building up inside my body was unbearable, and I hoped he couldn't notice because displaying fear was the last thing I wanted to do.

"What's your name?" he asked without sparing me a look, but I didn't respond.

As I let the time pass, he eventually turned around to face me, asking me the same question, but I still didn't respond. I had no intention of speaking, not even just for saying my name and as he chose to not engage further, I didn't have a single reason to change his mind.

Despite the dead silence between us, I could still feel his intense and wicked gaze roaming on me, and so, automatically, I brought my knees close to my chest, allowing the fabric of my tattered gown to cover most of my legs. He snorted uninterestedly in response, as if I had just offended him by even suggesting he was lurking my body, and he grabbed for another cabinet and opened it, still looking.

"Apologies my lady," he said ironically. "I should have first introduced myself. I'm Khar," he stated, my eyes widening with his statement.

I didn't mean to react in this way though, no, not all. His name was frequently mentioned in our region, and when I realized who was standing on the other side of the room, I momentarily panicked. Even among us, Khar was well-known for his harrowing past, the story of how he had slaughtered an entire village of his own people having spread throughout our world. Ignoring his alpha's orders, he butchered hundreds of werewolves in an attempt to demonstrate his strength, only to be fairly accused of abuse of power and eventually get exiled as a result of his actions. Wandering as a rogue, with no intention of remaining in one place for long, Marcian's orders were clear from the very beginning: kill him without a question.

Apparently, all the rumours and stories turned out to be partly true as another alpha had obviously taken him under his protection. A rogue should be marked for life but this one not only wasn't but he also belonged in another pack. And how the tables have turned now as he was the one in control of my life when he should constantly fear for his own. Thinking carefully about his reputation and the conclusion I reached, I tried even harder to show no weakness or give him any satisfaction from feeling he had an impact on me.

"Still no name? To be honest, I expected us to make a better start," he casually stated. "And I'm wondering what would help me get your name after all," he continued and closed the cabinet after he held another candle in hand.

He placed it on the ground, lit it, and took his seat beside the drawer, leaning against it with his arms folded in front of his chest. I stood there puzzled as he didn't appear to be interested in continuing the conversation or asking me anything other than my name. He just stood there, with his eyes fixed on me and his face devoid of any expression or emotion.

Given the distance and silence between us, I took my time noticing him because, despite his fame, I had no idea what he looked like, and his face bore no resemblance to the males I was used to seeing back home. In contrast to the common silky red eyes and pale, smooth skin, Khar had a darker tone and definitely a more muscled body. However, that didn't mean they were physically stronger than us, despite their appearance, as we have proved many times in the past. He also had brown hair that reached his neck and a light beard completing his look. Even though he looked a bit dirty, he was dressed formally with a neat, black suit which, obviously, was in total contrast with his nature.

My examination abruptly stopped as the scent of nightshade tingled my nostrils. Confused, I turned my attention to the candle closely to me only to easily realise that was the source. Turning my focus back at him, he tilted his head on the side, still though without a hint of interest.

"But, we do have all day to find that out, don't we?" He noted after he clearly noticed my distress and without waiting for any response, he exited the room.

To be honest, I didn't mean to fall for his provocative remark, and even though I was left alone once more, I chose to remain in the same position I had been in all along, unfazed and unbothered despite the disturbing smell. He would need to do much more than simply light a candle to break me. In stark contrast to the reputation he had built over the years, Khar chose a simple trick to baffle me, but I was not about to fall for it. The worst has yet to come, and this was just the beginning.

The thought came to mind unwelcomed and unfortunately once it got stuck in my head, I couldn't shake it off. What did Zara have to endure before her screams reached my ears? It clearly wasn't the nightshade that caused her discomfort, given the dose was negligible, but I was uncertain whether it was used in the same way.

They might have forced it down her throat or applied it to her wounded skin, both of which would have been horribly painful. It could, on the other hand, have been something entirely unrelated. There were thousands of scenarios rushing through my mind, each one worse than the last. And while all I did was inhale, unavoidably, the poisonous air, I couldn't stop thinking that on the other side of those walls, Zara silently begged for her misery to end.

Khar returned to the room, this time carrying a jar with an unknown liquid substance, but that was the least of my worries. It wasn't till now that I realised how dehydrated I was, just a drop of water seeming so heavenly right now. If I was being honest, my desire was unreasonable, and I quickly realized that I had no idea how long I'd been imprisoned in this cell in order to feel that way.

Was it hours? Days? My body was exhausted, and my eyes couldn't seem to stay focused in one place for long. Taking a look at the burning candle, I sadly discovered that it had already burned halfway, suggesting that my body has already been highly exposed and suddenly there was a wide gap in my memory. My head was heavy, and I had obviously lost consciousness several times as I noticed Khar dressed differently. Trying to move, my hands had gone numb and so I slightly crawled on the floor, with no apparent reason.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to last longer than your friend," he said, enraging me to my core.

"Where is she?" I didn't hesitate to ask and he laughed, sending a chill to my neck and down my spine.

Clearly, I had just caught his attention as he smiled interested and instantly grabbed a chair that laid a few feet away, the noise of wood scratching stone filling the room. Sitting lazily, inches from my body, he unbuttoned the single button that held his jacket together and I instantly noticed two guns secured on a holster that covered a part of his chest. With pure joy over his face, he crossed his hands, examining me from head to toes.

"She's safe," he laughed as a faint cry echoed again and without thinking about it, I sprang forward ready to rip his eyes out of its socket, only for the chains around my hands to hold me back.

Kneeling in front of him, my breathing unstable as hate controlled my body, he smirked amused before he leaned a bit forward, with his elbows on his knees. It was the first time I felt such resentment towards someone and despite that he could easily cut my throat as I noticed the claws gradually replacing his nails, I still chose to stand at the exact same position.

"You've got some nerve," he commented as he tilted his head to the side, and I found myself unable to take my eyes away from his, as if it was a staring contest, neither of us willing to lose. "I like that," he continued with a wicked smile before he lightly bit his bottom lip and I spat straight in his face.

His hand met my cheek in a matter of seconds and I found myself laying on the ground, coughing a bit of blood out of my mouth. He, on the other hand, let out a low growl of disappointment before he reached for my cheek, tenderly this time. Giving into his touch, I let his fingers travel to my chin as he turned my face on the side to notice the result of his assault. My gut clenched, and I felt disgusted with myself for allowing him to touch me, even if only softly with his fingers.

I knew this wasn't a genuine act of compassion on his part because he appeared to be pleased with the sight of my bleeding lips, as evidenced by the same smirk that covered his face. It was just a show of strength, a declaration of who was truly in command here and how I was completely at his mercy. But I wasn't going to let them break me that easily nor give up without a fight. So, as he slowly relaxed and faced me, with his thumb and index still firmly on my chin, I decided to show no weakness.

My teeth sank deep into his skin hard, the taste of his blood already tingling my tongue but that was nowhere near pleasing as the sound of his pained growl. As his claws dug into my cheeks, his eyes dilated, and I immediately let him go, the pain being tremendous as he nearly pierced my flesh. With a smile of pure satisfaction coating my own screams of pain, I watched him examine his hand carefully, his rage easy to spot.

"You filthy creature," he said and gripped my hair, forcing me to kneel straight, my chained wrists not letting me stand up nor get rid of his forced clasp.

With his other hand, he grabbed his gun and placed it over my forehead but I wasn't scared. He clearly wasn't going to kill me otherwise he would have already.

"Is everything alright, Khar?" another man's voice asked, making both of us turn our gaze towards the, once again, open door.

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