Wolfless Luna: The Curse of Prophecy

Chapter 4. Trapped in Shadows

The air in the cell changed. She suddenly realized that something was present—a faint yet distinct sound, similar to claws scraping over stone. Her pulse quickened as she lay still. The heavy and suffocating darkness closed in on all sides. She was not alone. She could sense it—an unseen presence hiding just beyond her reach, watching and waiting.

The tiny scrape repeated, even closer this time.

Her body screamed for her to move, but she remained frozen, imprisoned in the liminal place between horror and pain. It wasn't simply the fear of what waited in the shadows; it was a more profound, more consuming pain that tore at her insides.

The agonizing pain left by Keen's rejection was like a festering sore that had only become worse over time. Constance had experienced pain before, but not like this. It was as if her entire self had been ripped apart, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put it back together.

Her body felt weaker than usual, more so without her wolf. That empty space where her wolf should have been—the source of her strength—was now a hollow, hurting nothingness. That was terrifying. She was completely unprotected.

Scrape... scrape.

The sound got closer again. A wave of panic washed over her. Every inch of her body felt like it was coiled tightly, ready to shatter. But then... silence.

Constance allowed herself a brief breath as the air grew still once more. Whatever had been there was gone. Perhaps it had never existed at all.

She slowly tried to sit up. Her limbs were trembling, and her body was still echoing with the sharp anguish of rejection. Her throat was dry, and her skin prickled with cold sweat as she wrapped her arms around herself; the thin fabric of her clothes did little to keep her warm.

This was not simply exhaustion. This was brokenness caused by the bond being severed. She had heard stories of mates being rejected and how horrible it was, but none of them prepared her for this.

Nobody had told her that each breath would feel like a knife piercing through her chest.

As she moved slightly, her eyes got used to the dim light. She could now see the cold stone walls of her cell. The moist air stuck to her skin, and the aroma of iron and mildew flooded the room around her. "Lyra?" she croaked, her voice was barely above a whisper.

There was no response.

.

The thick and oppressive silence locked in around her. When she realized how alone she really was, her heart began to race. It was nearly impossible to bear the burden of her loneliness and the fear that tore at her soul.

A door creaked open unexpectedly. Her cage door flew open with a low, menacing moan. Constance's head snapped toward the sound. A cold sweat broke out on her skin. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoing down the tiny hallway sent waves of despair through her veins. She pushed herself back against the wall, her heart pounding in her ears.

A tall, shadowy figure stood in the doorway. For a while, the prisoner was afraid—until the figure came into view.

It was one of the pack guards. His sharp features and rigid posture drew Constance's attention. They weren't cold and haughty like the others she'd seen. No, there was something unbelievable about him. Kindness? Care? Whatever it was, it was not the dead-eye gaze of someone who saw her as nothing more than a criminal.

On the floor, he set a dish of bread and water and said, in a hushed voice, "I brought you some food." He also placed a thin blanket, but it appeared torn and worn. Constance looked at the things for a moment, not sure if she should move. Her hunger gnawed at her, but fear kept her rooted in place.

"Where… where am I?" Constance finally spoke.

"The Nightshade Pack." He bent slightly and gave her a look that suggested he was assessing her. "You and another woman were found close to our border."

Her breathing became shallow. Constance whispered, "Lyra... Is she okay?"

"She's alive," the guard murmured, but his expression remained blank. "She's being held somewhere else. The Alpha will decide what happens to you both."

Constance felt a moment of relief, but the gravity of the situation quickly overshadowed it. What kept her here? For what reason were they keeping her? What would the Alpha do to her?

Constance said, slightly shakily, "We didn't mean to intrude. We were running."

The guard observed her for a while with his face furrowed. "You're wolfless, aren't you?"

Constance let out a sigh. She detested the phrase "wolfless." It was a title that defined every part of her existence and a reminder of her vulnerability. "Yes," she mumbled quietly.

The guard nodded, his expression melting slightly. "That is risky in these areas. The Alpha does not trust outsiders, especially those without a wolf. It's dangerous for you here."

The guard chuckled, his look becoming a bit more tender. "That is risky in these areas. "

Constance's thoughts racing. She was not safe. Her group had always seen her as weak and a burden, but now it was worse. She was prey and also defenseless. Unfortunately, the guard's comments made it clear that her circumstances were even more uncertain than she had initially believed.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Why—why are you being nice to me?"

Though it didn't come out entirely, the guard's mouth moved as though he was considering smiling. "I don't like to see people kicked while they're down; let's just say that."

Their eyes met, and for an instant, something flashed between them. Constance had no idea what it was—empathy, maybe? Or something deeper? The gleam of warmth in his eyes made him stand out among the other guards. She had to know who this man was at that very time.

"Listen carefully, "the guard added, interrupting the moment, "the Alpha is not someone you want to cross. Be careful when you speak to him. He doesn't trust easily, especially not outsiders. And... you being wolfless? That makes you an even bigger target."

Constance swallowed hard. Her insides roiled with nervous tension. "Why would that matter so much? I didn't choose this."

"Doesn't matter," the guard said with a shrug. "Here, strength is everything. And without your wolf, you're vulnerable. The Alpha will see that as a threat—or worse, a weakness."

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn't weak, but the truth was, without her wolf, she did feel powerless. And with Keen's rejection still fresh in her soul, that feeling of worthlessness was all-consuming.

She caught herself asking, "What's your name?" before he could go.

The guard stopped and gave her another glance. She really thought he wouldn't respond. But then he murmured, "Callum," grinning a little.

Constance left herself alone again when Callum turned and walked out of the cell. The door slammed with a quiet, sinister thud. However, something had changed. Not just the hurt of her rejection or the fear of what lay ahead, but also the slight shift that Callum's presence brought about.

For reasons she couldn't fully understand, a thrill shot through her chest. She repeatedly played back the conversation, wondering who Callum was and why he had even been friendly to her.

She had sensed danger earlier—lurking in the cell. Constance, despite this, was now fearful that the real threat had only just started.