Chapter 4

Whelve

v. To bury something deep; to hide

The four men approached us, two grabbing each of my arms while the other two grabbed Conan. They held the silver restraints and I saw the panic in his eyes. He began struggling and my heart broke for him.

"Conan please don't hurt yourself," I whispered. The men cuffed and collared him tightly just as they did with me. The collar was connected to the cuffs and was made out of silver. While the metal was soft and malleable under werewolf strength, silver was lethal and burnt werewolves if it came into contact with them.

I felt my blood boil as they shoved us both to walk. The smell of burning flesh and the pained hisses and grunts coming from Conan spiked my growing rage. I fought to remain calm, remembering Diana's words.

I would wait.

I would hide until the perfect time to hatch my plan.

We walked for what seemed like miles before I heard the sound of chatter and other sounds normally associated with large groups of people. We had arrived at the pack grounds.

Looking around, the place was beautiful. It was like a winter wonderland. Houses and homes were built like cabins with thick blankets of snow coating the ground. Icicles gleamed and glinted under the winter sun and I could see a frozen lake not too far off.

As we walked closer, conversations ceased and everyone hushed. Everyone stopped to stare, watching us with wide eyes, some disgusted, some curious.

While most of the wolves had pulled on some clothes after they shifted, we were left as naked as the day we were born. It was a humiliation tactic, though it didn't particularly bother me.

I caught several people's eyes, holding it until they broke away from my uncomfortable gaze.

We were headed to the largest building, the structure easily standing out. It was clearly the pack house. The architecture would have been better appreciated had I not been cuffed and collared like an animal.

We were shoved into the building, entering a nice foyer with a chandelier hanging from above. The force of the shove, coupled with our restrained hands meant we fell onto the ground, only just managing to stop myself from face planting.

They stood above us, arms clasped behind their backs, faces impassive and body tense. They hadn't spoken a single word during the journey and I wondered what they were all waiting for.

A hiss had me turning back to Conan. I scooted closer to him, cradling his face, wiping away the sweat at his hairline. His eyes were scrunched in pain and I could see the raw and red skin under the cuffs and collars.

"I am so sorry. I promise I will sort this out," I whispered into his ear as I leaned closer to him. He let out a shaky breath, in too much pain to respond verbally. "I have the perfect place and you're going to love it. Just hold on me for me," I smoothed his dark hair away from his eyes, hugging him closer to my body.

I tried alleviating his pain as best as I could.

I felt him sigh against my neck.

Hearing footsteps approaching fast, I snapped my eyes open to see a large male head towards us. I cradled Conan closer to me, not wanting him to be disturbed.

He stopped just before Conan and I on the floor. My eyes trailed up from his thick muscular jean clad legs up to his narrow hips. A grey shirt adorned his body, covering his powerful and corded muscles. His hands were clenched by his hips, showing off veins and impressive muscle.

My eyes finally trailed up, up to his godly face.

He had pitch black hair and brows which contrasted greatly against his flawlessly pale skin. His face was sharp with high cheekbones and strong jaw. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

But all that was nothing compared to his electric eyes.

They were a startling pale blue, almost glowing with how light they were. They seemed to stare straight through me, reading my soul.

I inhaled sharply, stopping short when I caught the most heavenly aroma. He had an underlying smell of pine and fresh rain, reminding me instantly of the enchanting forest outside. It was wrapped nicely with the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon with a hint of fresh linen.

It was such an interesting mix of smell and completely intoxicating.

In my daze, I forgot about Conan and he began squirming in my arms, waking from the painless slumber I had put him in.

A feral growl had me snapping my attention back to the man above me. He had his sharp canines bared, his eyes fixed on the male in my arms. I held him closer to me, hissing back at him.

"Well shit!" The loud booming voice from earlier snorted. Turning back, I saw the older male with the blonde hair from earlier in the forest. I wondered where he had gone.

He was chuckling to himself, pushing past the guards to stand besides the man above me, slapping his back loudly.

"Congratulations, Son. I thought this day would never come," he laughed. Son?

The resemblance was uncanny, the only difference being the son having black hair and more hooded eyes.

"Get her some clothes!" The older man barked, sending a nearby maid scuttling. A moment later, the maid returned with a soft cotton dress in her hands.

"Dress." The silent man commanded. Had it not been for the demanding and harsh tone behind his words, I would have appreciated how deep and smooth his voice sounded. Before I could protest, the clothing was being thrown at me. It hit me in the chest and fell on Conan's head. I quickly threw it to the side.

"I can't. I'm cuffed," I growled back.

"Fine. Send them to the prisons. Put them in separate cells!" He barked at the guards. We were pulled apart and rough hands yanked on each of my arms, dragging me through a door and down some stairs.

The smell of blood, mould and cleaning chemicals hit me and I wrinkled my nose. We were led to a dimly lit corridor with rows of cells lining each side. I heard several inmates rustling, getting up and stepping as close to the silver bars as they dared, watching us with curious eyes.

I was shoved into one and Conan was shoved into the one directly opposite mine. Our cuffs and collars were removed before the sliding door was slammed shut and locked with a loud click.

I saw Conan rub his wrists and neck before looking up at me confused.

"I promise, I'm going to get us out of here," I told him. It was my fault we were here anyways.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Girl," a voice called out. It was rough and gravelly but still feminine.

"What makes you think I can't keep that promise?" I asked. The voice came from the cell besides Conan. The woman shuffled in the dark before stepping into the light so I could see her. She had three deep scars slashing through the left side of her face, over the place where her eye used to be.

"Because this is The Phantom Pack and no rogue leaves here alive."