FREYA
The interrogation room is two floors under the council chamber, behind a door with no marking on the outside. Papa took me down here once when I was eleven. He showed me the chair, the chains, the drain in the floor, and he said, “if you're going to be Gamma, you need to know what being a Gamma costs.”
He even let me watch as he tortured information out of a rival pack Alpha.
My boots echo down the corridor and the fluorescent bulbs hum off-pitch above my head. The light off the concrete walls is the colour of cold water. By the time I reach the door, my heart is pounding against my ribs in a slow steady knock I cannot shake.
The two warriors at the door come to attention and bare their necks before they have finished registering me.
Petric and a younger warrior whose name I do
