Nature is not a place to visit 25

Chapter 25
*“If you wouldn’t follow me down a dark, scary corridor, are we even really friends?”*
*Unknown*
As I ran towards the pack house that the nameless warrior had pointed out, Luke on my heels, conflict waged inside my
brain. My wolf howled at me for leaving my mate behind to face the Blood Moons alone, and I had to fight the instinct
not to run back to him.
*I need to save my friends, they’re the ones in trouble.*
*He’s the literal Moon God – he can handle himself. I saw him break necks back there like he was cracking eggs.*
I pushed my wolf’s protests to the back of my mind and pushed forward. The large pack house – bigger than anything
my pack could’ve ever hoped to build – loomed in front of me.
“That warrior said there was a back entrance, right?” Luke asked, skidding to a stop beside me.
“Yeah, right down to the cells,” I replied. I squinted until I caught sight of what looked like a heavy metal door located on
the side of the house. “There!”
Luke and I didn’t waste any time making our way to the back entrance. He reached for the handle on the door, but as
soon as he touched it, he yelped as if he’d been burned.
“Ow!”
And looking at his hand, he had been burned. There were welts everywhere his hand touched the surface of the door.
“It’s silver,” I said, staring at the door.
The door was made of one of the only things that could hurt werewolves – silver.
“Of course the convenient entrance is made of silver,” Luke mumbled, still nursing his injured hand. “I don’t
understand…they’re wolves too. Why would they want a silver door to their prison?”
“Maybe it’s not about letting people in, but *keeping* people in,” I replied. “Either way, I don’t think we have time for
this. You got an extra shirt in your supply bag, right?”
Luke nodded, pulling out a t-shirt and handing it to me without question. He must’ve known what I was planning. I
wrapped the shirt around my right hand like a makeshift glove, and then pulled on the handle.
The handle was heavy, but the shirt worked like I needed it to, and acted as a barrier between my skin and the silver. It
took a little more strength than I’d expected, but after a moment, the door cracked open with a loud creak, revealing a
set of dirt steps leading underground.
My stomach rolled.
If horror movies had taught me anything, it’s that nothing good ever waited at the bottom of someone’s underground
cellar.
I could only hope this time was an exception.
“Guess we need to go down,” I said, glancing at Luke. He looked just as unenthusiastic as I did about the thought of
walking down the dark, underground staircase.
“Yeah,” Luke muttered, staring down into the darkness. Neither of us stepped forward.
“Well, you know what they say,” I told him, “Gentlemen first.”
He raised one blonde eyebrow. “That’s not how that saying goes, but…fine.” With a heavy sigh, he stepped in front of me.
Together, we descended the staircase, the heavy silver door clanging shut behind us.
*Well, that totally didn’t sound ominous.*
The staircase was shorter than I thought, and before I knew it, Luke and I had reached the bottom floor of the cells.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. Perhaps it was because I’d spent the past several hours running through the open
forest, but as soon as I’d stepped inside, my nose was assaulted with heavy, stale air. It smelled like someone had flooded
their basement and let the water damage sit for a decade.
It was overpowering, and I couldn’t make out any other scents.
The cells were dark, but beside me, I saw Luke cover his nose. “Geez, this place stinks,” he said.
“Yeah, I’d like to know who was in charge of air circulation,” I replied, looking around. I’d heard of large packs having
cells or special areas where they kept their prisoners, but this was my first time being inside of one.
It certainly looked like a prison, that was for sure.
It was all stone walls and dirt floors. The only source of a light was a series of dim glass wall lamps attached to the stone.
They were barely bright enough for us to see our own feet, let alone light the path in front of us.
“Guess they don’t have a big prison budget,” I muttered sarcastically.
Luke squinted into the darkness. “I can’t hear anything,” he said, “They must be further down.”
Luke was right – it was quiet. There was nothing but the sound of our own heartbeats to listen to. No screams, no shouts
from prisoners trying to escape – nothing.
Silence doesn’t mean they’re dead.
That was the pep-talk I gave myself as Luke and I journeyed further down the dark hallway, our eyes and ears peeled for
the slightest change.
We must’ve walked for about five minutes in silence when Luke suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “Do you hear that?”
he asked.
I froze immediately, my ears perking up as I scanned our surroundings for signs of a potential attacker. There was no
guarantee that this prison wasn’t guarded.
I could hear nothing but the sound of my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
Just as I opened my mouth to tell him that, I heard it – and I could’ve sworn my heart stopped beating altogether.
It was faint but I could hear it. And if Luke could hear it too, that meant I wasn’t imagining it.
From the distance, I could hear the sound of Rae yelling.
I couldn’t make out what she was yelling, but I recognized her voice – there was no mistaking it. That snarky voice in the
distance was my best friend.
Without even looking at Luke to make sure he was following, I bolted towards the sound of her voice.