Page 14 of To Carve A Wolf

He looked at me in the dark earlier, blinking through the gloom with those soft brown eyes and whispered, “At least it’s warmer than our house.”

I wanted to cry.

He grinned at me, as if this was just another place, another bad day, like the time the nets broke and we had nothing to eat but dried kelp and bitterroot. As if this—this—wasn’t a dungeon soaked in the screams of the forgotten.

“They even gave us food,” he said. “Bread and meat. Not bad.”

My stomach turned. Not from hunger, but from guilt. From rage. From helplessness. I couldn’t keep him safe. I’d tried. I’d bled for it. Lied for it. Changed everything I was just to disappear into the shadow of the human world. And still—still—they found us.

Hefound us. The Alpha.

Andros. His name was whispered by terrified mouths and scarred lips in every pack from coast to mountain, but now I had a face for the stories. A voice. A touch.

Gods, his hand on my throat had seared deeper than any flame. And what terrified me most wasn’t that he was cruel, or powerful. I’d known monsters like that before.

It was the way he looked at me. Like he knew. Like he felt the lie etched into my spine. And he wasn’t going to rest until he peeled back every layer to find the truth I’d buried.

I glanced down at Dain. He was sleeping again, mouthparted slightly, one hand curled against his chest.

They left us in the dark for three days. No questions. No threats. No beatings. Just silence.

The only thing that came regularly was food—twice a day, hot, seasoned,decent. The kind of meals I hadn’t been able to give Dain in weeks. Maybe months. That, more than anything, broke something inside me.

Because it meant they could. This brutal, blood-soaked pack could afford to feed even its prisoners like they mattered. And I—who scraped together every coin, who bled into the salt and nets and filth of the shore—could barely keep a child warm, let alone fed.

Every time the tray clanked against the stone, Dain lit up like it was some miracle. “They have cheese,” he whispered once, eyes wide. “Real cheese, Lexi.”

I smiled, but it felt like glass in my throat. And now, on the third day, the rhythm changed.

The door opened with a screech, metal against stone, too loud after so much stillness. I sat up fast, heart already pounding. Two guards stepped inside, their boots wet from the halls above. No food this time. No tray.

I rose slowly, stiff from the cold and chains. Dain sat up beside me, rubbing his eyes.

“What is this?” I asked, voice low, cautious. “Where are you taking us?”

“Us?No. Just you.” One of the guards—taller, sharper eyes—snorted.

My chest tightened. “He stays? Why?”

The other stepped closer, smirking. “The Alpha wants a word. Alone.”

Dain climbed to his feet beside me, already frowning. “I’m coming too.”

The taller one shoved him gently back with the flat of hishand. “You stay here, pup. Insurance.”

“Insurance?” I growled, stepping forward until the chains caught at my ankles. “He’s a child.”

“He'syourchild,” the guard said, voice tightening. “And if you think about running… well. We’ll need something to keep you honest.”

I felt Dain grab my sleeve, his little fingers twisting in the fabric.

“No,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”

“I have to, cub,” I said softly, kneeling to look him in the eye. My throat burned. “I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” His voice cracked.

I hesitated. Because I didn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. But this time… I nodded.

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