Dawn's Second Chance

Chapter 2

Dawn's POV

I lasted only a week in the forest before they found me.

The days suddenly became too difficult to count. I barely ate because there was little to find. I drank from little streams and kept walking even when my legs ached. I had no plan. I only wanted to stay alive, even though I felt dead inside.

On the seventh night, I smelled smoke. Before I could turn away and hid behind a tree, shadows moved behind me. Men in dark clothing stepped out, holding silver chains.

“What do we have here?” one of them said.

I freaked out and ran, but I did not get far. Nets dropped over me, heavy with silver threads that burned. I struggled, but every movement hurt more and more. I screamed until my voice broke, but no one came.

The seekers had finally caught me.

When I woke up again, I was chained in a cold basement and the air smelled of damp earth and blood. Around me were other wolves, men and women, some older and some younger. To my horror, I even saw some with babies. Where was I?

A thin boy with hollow cheeks moved closer to his companion and whispered, “Another one. They brought her in last night.”

“Lets hope she survives at least one month” another woman spoke to no one in particular.

I could hear them speaking about me but I stayed silent. My arms throbbed where the silver had burned me.

That was the beginning of years I wished I could erase.

The Seekers came every day. Sometimes they beat us, sometimes they cut us, sometimes they tested strange weapons on us. They never explained why. They only enjoyed our screams.

At first I refused to speak to anyone. I thought there was no point. But when food was thrown in, we all had to share. We had to agree who got what. And in that need, words passed between us.

“Take more,” an older man told me, pushing a crust of bread my way.

“No,” I said. “Keep it. You are weaker than me.”

“I will not last long either way,” he said with a long sigh. “At least you can.”

We all knew that one day, we would all die.

Days turned into months and months turned into years. And I stopped keeping count, because there was no use. No one was going to save me. Especially my family members. I could still remember their betrayal.

Our numbers had dropped significantly, some wolves died from wounds. Some were taken upstairs and never came back. We mourned quietly because crying only brought more beatings.

But in the silence, we grew closer. We learned each other’s names. We whispered stories about the lives we once had. None of us spoke about hope anymore.

One night, when the boy with hollow cheeks cried softly in the corner, I crawled closer. “Stop,” I spoke to him in a gentle voice. “Save your strength.”

“I miss my family,” he whispered. “Do you think they even remember me?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course they do. Families do not forget.”

I did not believe it, but I said it for him. Because he was just a child.

By the second year, I had stopped dreaming of escape. I no longer believed we would see the sun again and my only focus was keeping the remaining wolves alive as long as possible. When food came, I made sure it was shared fairly. When one of us was beaten too badly to move, I tried to clean the wounds with the dirty water they gave us.

The others started listening to me, not because I was stronger but because I refused to give up on them. But that changed on that faithful night.

The ground above shook with heavy footsteps. Shouts echoed from above and the sound of fighting filled the air.

The others looked at me with wide scared eyes.

“What is happening?” a boy asked.

“I do not know,” I answered. “But stay close to me.”

The door burst open. Men with weapons stormed inside, but these men were not Seekers. Their clothing bore the mark of a pack. They struck down the guards and rushed toward us.

One of them cut the chains and another spoke out to us, “You are free, you can come out now.”

The other prisoners looked at them with skeptical looks. Surely these men didn't think we would follow them blindly right?

I pulled the boy behind me. “Wait,” I said, looking at the stranger. “Who sent you? Why should we trust you?”

A tall man stepped into the room, he was tall, standing at about 6 '0 with striking blue eyes and blond hair, even from the dark basement I could tell he was very handsome. His presence filled the space with dominance. I knew that Aura, this man was definitely an Alpha male. His eyes scanned us before landing on me.

“My name is Levi,” he said. “I am Alpha of Silverstorm Pack. You are safe now, I promise.”

I stared at him, unwilling to let my guard down. “I have heard promises before. They mean nothing.”

He still kept a straight face, not bothered by my obvious distrust. “I understand. But I will not leave without you all, this place is far more dangerous than you think.”

Behind me, the boy tugged my arm. “Please, Dawn. I cannot stay here, I want to go home.”

I looked at the others. They were waiting for me.

Finally, I nodded. “We will come. But if you betray us, I will end you.”

Levi nodded his head. “I would not dare.”

The warriors helped us out of the basement. Some of us could barely walk, so they carried them. I forced myself to stay on my feet. My body shook with weakness, but I refused to fall. I kept looking back, counting the others, making sure no one was left behind.

Levi noticed this because he came to me “You watch over them as if they were your own pack.”

“They are all I have,” I replied. “If they die, then I have nothing.”

He studied me for a moment. “ You don't have a family? That means you are stronger than you seem.”

I shook my head, refusing to accept that statement “Strength has nothing to do with it. I just could not leave them.”

We reached the surface, and the night air hit my face. For the first time in two years, I saw the moon and stars. I wanted to cry so badly, but I held it in. The others leaned on me, and I held steady.

Levi came to my side. He handed me a flask of water. “Drink. You need it.”

I was still not sure about the Alpha,but others needed it. I gave it to the boy first, he drank greedily. Only after the others had some did I take a sip.

Levi watched me silently, “Even now, you put them before yourself.”

“They suffered with me,” I said simply. “We survived together. That is more than enough.”

He nodded slowly. “You are safe now, and you'll soon be where you belong.”

I did not answer. I was not ready to believe in belonging again. But as we walked toward freedom, I stayed close to the others, and Levi stayed close to me.