Freya's POV
The Werewolf Trafficker
Five minutes later, I find myself walking down a dimly lit hallway within the heart of this fortress. The heavy stone walls seem to absorb the sound of my footsteps, shrouding me in near silence. I adjust the black turtleneck I’ve been given; it conceals the fresh marks along my neck, marks that still tingle with heat, a reminder of a certain someone’s possessive attention. Paired with fitted leather pants and black boots, I blend into the shadows that line the narrow corridor.
As I approach the cell, I’m greeted by the sight of what is now my pack members, who are arranged in a semi-circle around our latest captive. Bound tightly to a chair with thick ropes, the man stares at us with wide, terrified eyes. His breaths come out in shallow, shaky gasps
