Yes sir," I said, the tears coming to my eyes. I'd heard about women who were caught up by the slave trade; I might not even be in the United States anymore.
"Eat, you'll need your strength." He left the room, locking it again. I went over to the door and checked it was locked, then went back to the small table where my food was sitting. My stomach ached with hunger, and I pulled the cover off the Styrofoam bowl and smelled the oatmeal. It wasn't the same as before; there was none of the detail, like my senses had been dulled. Without my wolf, I was weak.
I opened one of the shakes, drinking it in gulps. I poured a little over the oatmeal, taking a bite every minute or so and letting it settle. By the time the door opened, I was done.
A woman in her forties came in the room. She had
