His weakness

Chapter 4. Lena

Chapter Four — The Captives

The car finally stopped after what felt like hours. My body was stiff from sitting in the same position, and my mind was exhausted from trying to figure out where they had taken me. I heard the engine shut off, followed by the sound of the doors opening.

“Get out.”

It was the same werewolf who had taken me from my house.

I slowly stepped out of the car. My eyes were still covered, so I had no idea where I was. I could only hear footsteps around me and the sound of a large metal gate opening somewhere in front of us.

Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

“Walk.”

I stumbled after him until the blindfold was suddenly pulled off.

I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted to the light.

Then I froze.

I was standing inside a huge, dark building. Metal bars formed rows of small cells, and most of them were occupied.

People were sitting inside.

Men, women, teenagers, even children.

Humans.

My heart dropped as I looked around. Some looked exhausted, while others had bruises covering their faces and arms. A few were sitting silently against the walls, staring at the floor as if they had already given up.

“What is this place?”

The werewolf didn’t answer. He pushed me toward one of the cells.

I grabbed the bars.

“Wait. Where am I?”

He looked at me coldly.

“Your new home.”

My stomach turned.

“No.”

He opened the cell and shoved me inside. I stumbled forward and fell onto the cold floor.

The door slammed shut behind me.

I quickly turned around.

“Wait!”

He was already walking away.

“Please!”

He didn’t even look back.

I watched him disappear down the hallway, leaving me alone.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

A quiet voice came from behind me.

“You shouldn’t have begged him.”

I turned around.

A girl was sitting in the corner of the cell. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger. Her clothes were dirty, and there was a small cut above her eyebrow.

“Who are you?”

She shrugged.

“Does it matter?”

I sat down slowly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Three months.”

My eyes widened.

“Three months?”

She nodded.

“And you’re still here?”

She gave a bitter laugh.

“Where else would I go?”

I looked around the prison again.

“What happens to the people here?”

Her eyes moved toward the hallway.

“They take people away.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“And they don’t come back?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

That night, I barely slept. There was no bed, only a thin piece of cloth on the floor. Every sound made me open my eyes. The footsteps of the guards, the opening and closing of metal doors, and the occasional cries from somewhere down the hallway.

I kept thinking about my family.

My mother.

Mia.

My father.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way they had beaten him.

I prayed he was still alive.

By morning, my stomach was hurting from hunger.

A metal tray was pushed through the opening beneath the cell door. There was a small piece of bread and a cup of water.

I stared at it.

“That is breakfast?”

The girl nodded.

“That’s breakfast.”

I picked up the bread. It was hard and dry, but I ate it anyway.

I finished it quickly, but I was still hungry.

“Don’t eat too fast,” the girl said.

“Why?”

“You don’t know when the next meal is coming.”

I looked at her.

“How many meals do they give you?”

“Sometimes two. Sometimes one.”

“One?”

She nodded.

“And if someone is sick?”

“They don’t care.”

I looked around.

There were people coughing. Some had wounds that hadn’t been treated. One woman had a swollen ankle and was sitting alone against the wall.

There were no doctors.

No medicine.

No proper beds.

Nothing.

Just cells filled with frightened people.

On the second day, I learned the rules.

Don’t touch the bars when the guards are passing.

Don’t shout.

Don’t fight.

Don’t ask where people are being taken.

And never try to escape.

The girl and I sat quietly against the wall.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“Lena.”

“I’m Brie.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“They called you the new girl when they brought you in.”

For the first time since I was taken, I didn’t feel completely alone.

Over the next two days, Lena and I talked whenever we could. She told me she had been taken from her village three months earlier. She had been with her younger brother when the werewolves came.

“They took him too?”

She looked down.

“Yes.”

“Is he here?”

She didn’t answer.

I understood.

I reached for her hand, and she let me hold it.

On the fourth morning, I woke up to the sound of the cell door opening.

Two werewolves stood outside.

One of them looked at Lena.

“Get up.”

Lena froze.

I sat up quickly.

“What do you want with her?”

The werewolf looked at me.

“Stay out of it.”

Lena slowly stood.

I grabbed her hand.

“Where are you taking her?”

His eyes narrowed.

“I said stay out of it.”

Lena squeezed my hand.

“Brie.”

I looked at her.

Her face was pale.

“Don’t forget me.”

My chest tightened.

“You’re coming back.”

She gave me a sad smile.

“You don’t know that.”

I wanted to promise her she would return, but I couldn’t.

Lena looked at me one last time.

“Take care of yourself.”

Then they pulled her away.

I rushed to the bars.

“Lena!”

She turned her head as they dragged her down the hallway.

I watched until she disappeared.

She never came back.

That was when I understood that nobody was safe.

The days after Lena was taken became a blur.

I stopped asking where she had gone because I already knew the answer I was too afraid to say.

Every time the cell door opened, I expected them to come for me.

I began counting the days by the meals.

Day five.

Day six.

Day seven.

The food became worse.

Sometimes it was bread. Sometimes it was a thin soup that tasted like water. Some days there wasn’t enough food for everyone.

People started becoming weaker.

One man in the cell across from me collapsed during breakfast. The prisoners called for help, but nobody came.

A guard walked past, looked at him and kept going.

“Someone help him!”

The guard stopped and looked at me.

“You want to join him?”

I immediately went quiet.

The man remained on the floor.

Nobody moved.

Not because they didn’t care, but because they were afraid.

That place was changing everyone.

By the second week, I had stopped expecting to leave.

I missed my family so much that sometimes I imagined I could hear my mother’s voice. I imagined Mia complaining about something stupid. I imagined my father’s laugh.

Then I would open my eyes and remember where I was.

There were no windows in my cell.

No sunlight.

No fresh air.

Just cold walls and metal bars.

I started losing track of time.

The only thing keeping me going was the thought of home.

I had to believe my family was still waiting for me.

On the fifteenth day, I heard a woman crying somewhere down the hallway.

I sat quietly and listened.

Nobody tried to comfort her.

The crying continued for almost an hour before it suddenly stopped.

I didn’t know what happened to her.

I didn’t want to know.

By the eighteenth day, I was barely eating. My clothes were dirty, my hair was a mess, and I had dark circles under my eyes.

I barely recognized myself anymore.

I looked like someone who had been there for months instead of eighteen days.

By the twentieth day, I had stopped counting how many times I had cried.

I just wanted to go home.

Then the twenty-first day came.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since I had left my family.

Three weeks since I hugged my mother.

Three weeks since I told Mia to take care of them.

Three weeks since I saw my father lying on that floor.

I didn’t know if he was alive.

I didn’t know if my family was safe.

I didn’t know if they still believed I was coming back.

I closed my eyes.

“I’ll come home.”

My voice was barely a whisper.

“I’ll come home somehow.”

Then I heard footsteps.

Not the usual footsteps.

These were heavier.

Slower.

Every prisoner became silent.

I opened my eyes and looked toward the hallway.

A group of werewolves appeared at the end of the corridor.

They were walking directly toward us.

My heart started pounding.

One of them stopped in front of my cell.

He looked at me through the bars.

Then he smiled.

“Brie.”

My blood ran cold.

I hadn’t heard my name spoken like that since I arrived.

The cell door unlocked.

And this time, I knew they had come for me.