Page 71 of Raven

The pack roared their approval. A sound that sent shivers down my spine despite my best efforts to remain unmoved, and I had to slam every shield I had down into place.

My father turned back to address them all, his arms out wide. "My brothers and sisters, my children of the night, my family, my pack, the moon calls, her song singing in our blood. Let us answer her song. Let us cast off these human shells and embrace what we are."

He began to strip off his loose pants, and around us, others followed suit. "Be free, my pack. Feel the earth beneath your paws, the wind in your fur. The night is ours. We will hunt, and we will be who we are."

"We will run as we always should have, father and son, side by side," he stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. "Remember, son, everywhere you go, there is pack. We understand each other, I hope. This is your home, your family. Do not make the mistake of thinking otherwise."

The threat was clear, wrapped though it was in the guise of fatherly concern. I knew what he was saying—leave and they would find me. And not just me, the mention of understanding each other clearly referenced the pictures, made it clear about Tia. I met his gaze steadily, letting him see that I understood perfectly, and gave a slight nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Satisfied, he turned back to the pack, his voice once again carrying across the gathering. "Go now, the night awaits."

My father shifted then, his form blurring and reforming into a massive black panther, majestic and terrifying in equal measure. All around us, others began to change and shift, their human forms giving way to sleek, powerful feline bodies.

As much as I wanted to fight this, to not join them, I couldn’t fight the pull of the moon. None of us could, not even an alpha would be able to fight that. I wanted to just to hold on to my human form out of sheer spite, but the energy of the moonthrummed through the air. And yes, even a tiny part of me that longed for this connection proved too strong to resist.

With a deep breath, I removed my clothes, and then I let go, allowing my panther to surge forward. As my body shifted and changed.

I would run with them tonight. I would play the part of the prodigal son returned, but I would not forget, and I would not forgive. I would figure a way out of this.

THIRTY-TWO

As soon as the run was over, I was put back in my cell. I didn't fight it. Didn't even try. Time would get me out of there, not running off when I was surrounded by my father's entire pack. No, that was asking for disaster, and being locked up even more. The one thing I realised was that my father and the pack wanted me to be part of it. All the things he'd said were true, and I was sure he meant them. That didn't mean I accepted what he'd done and that my mother's death was just. Fuck no. I stood by my belief that he could have just knocked. I was sure as hell going to leave the first chance I got. His beliefs, though—the idea that he was reclaiming a son—I was certain he meant them. How he thought killing my mother would accomplish that, I didn’t understand. That was his twisted logic, not mine. The sincerity was there. So maybe I could use that. Play the part he needed me to play and have them let their guard down. Maybe.

But I was back in my cell, and I think I fell asleep almost immediately, despite not wanting to, and thinking I couldn't. My brain was working a million miles an hour. My panther had loved the run, the hunt. He'd thrived on the fact we had run with a pack of other panthers. It'd been like his dream to be there, and he'd loved it. But I fought that. No. I didn’t care how muchmy panther felt at home with them; my mother's life was never worth this.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

The darkness of my cell was shattered by a sudden jarring awakening. Disoriented, I blinked away the remnants of a fitful sleep. This kept happening. In sleep, I'd forget. I'd be safe. I'd go to places where I had Tia, where my mother was alive, where I wasn't locked in a cage and then I'd wake and it'd all crash down on top of me, reminding me of where I was.

The run, my father's words—they crashed over me, swirling in my mind. The deep ache in my muscles and the lingering wild scent of the forest clinging to my skin betrayed the harsh truth. It had happened. Every last fucked up moment of it.

I opened my eyes, my brain struggling to separate reality from delusion. How many times would I wake, half-expecting to hear my mother's footsteps in the next room or smell her coffee brewing? As the days bled into one another, my mind conjured up images of her going about her nights, same life, same routine. Tia materialised too, hurrying to classes, lounging at Spy Glass, hunched over a book in the library. Both of them living their lives outside, in the real world, while I rotted in the dark. My brain's desperate attempt to keep me tethered to sanity. But then, like a sadistic puppeteer, that same mind would yank the strings, bombarding me with flashes of reality, or worse--things it imagined.

I hauled myself up on the hard cot, my joints screaming in protest. The windowless hellhole warped time, stretching minutes into hours, days into an eternity. My body clock spun wildly, stripped of all natural cues, leaving me unmoored.

A tray of food—raw meat, fresh and ready—sat just inside the door. My stomach growled traitorously. The memory of my father's smug grin as he offered me a bite of the deer he'd caughtflashed through my mind. I'd managed to turn away from him then, a small act of defiance in the face of his dominance.

As I forced down the meat—undoubtedly from my father’s kill—my mind raced. The euphoria of the run faded, leaving behind the cold brutality and my father's words. "Everywhere you turn, is pack."

I clenched my fists, feeling my nails digging into my palms. The sharp pain grounded me, a reminder that I wasn't broken. Not yet. Not ever.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the meat, a mix of revulsion and desperate hunger warring within me.

The first bite exploded across my tongue, rich and metallic. My panther purred in satisfaction, while my human side recoiled, feeling like we were giving in. I choked it down, hating the way my body craved it, hating the part of me that found comfort in this twisted offering.

As I ate, I strained my ears for any sound beyond my cell. The silence pressed in, broken only by my own ragged breathing and the wet sounds of my meal. But then, a shadow fell across me and I hadn't heard the door, so he must have been around the corner, waiting.

Rick. Fucking Rick.

"Rise and shine, princeling," he sneered, his voice grating on my nerves as he stared down at me.

I gripped the fork in my hand, imagining the savage satisfaction of driving it into his smug face, watching it pierce his eye. The metal felt cold and heavy in my grip, a tempting weapon.

Rick's scent wafted through the air, and I cursed myself. How had I not known? How had I fallen for that fucking trick? Everything about him had screamed human before, and now ... now I could smell the lie. The shifter scent clung to him, unmistakable and mocking.

"Fuck off," I spat, the words tasting like bile in my mouth.

He placed a hand on his chest in mock offence, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Oh, how quaint. Well, I can't fuck off. The alpha wants to see you. YOUR father wants to see you. He wanted to make sure you were awake."

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