<b>Chapter 175 </b>
Skye’s POV
Consciousness came back to me like a slow tide, my mind struggling throughyers of fog before I could piece together a single coherent thought. I tried to move but my limbs felt like they were filled with lead. Every muscle in my body protested against even the slightest
motion.
Drugs. Again.
The bitter aftertaste in my mouth confirmed it. Whoever had taken me had used both a sedative and wolf suppressants. Thebination was brutally effective, leaving me helpless as a newborn pup.
I blinked several times, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. Thest thing I remembered was being at the hot spring, the warm water soothing my muscles after days of tension. Now I was… where exactly?
Looking down at myself, I realized someone had changed my clothes. The swimsuit I’d been wearing was gone, reced by an oversized, threadbare men’s t–shirt that smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap detergent. The thought of unknown hands on my unconscious body made my skin crawl.
My mouth was sealed with duct tape, the adhesive pulling painfully at my skin. Both my wrists and ankles were bound with rough rope, secured to some kind of metal ring embedded in the wall behind me. When I tried to pull against my restraints<b>, </b>they seemed to tighten automatically, digging deeper into my flesh.
A burning sensation followed, far more intense than regr rope burn should be. Wolfsbane. The ropes had been treated with it, making them doubly effective against my kind. Even if I had my full strength, the poison would weaken me significantly.
I forced myself to stop struggling. No sense in making the ropes tighter or allowing more wolfsbane to seep into my bloodstream. Instead, I focused on gathering information about my surroundings.
The air here was noticeably warmer than it had been in the trial town. Wherever I was, we’d traveled some distance. The room was small andpletely windowless, with concrete walls and a single metal door. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the floor.
The smell hit me next. Mold and dampness. Old concrete. The musty scent of earth surrounding me on all sides.
Underground.
I was in some kind of basement or cer.
Memories crashed over me like an icy wave. Being trapped underground with Nadia. The darkness. The uncertainty. The knowledge that no one might find us in time. My heart rate spiked, and I forced myself to take slow breaths through my nose.
Don’t panic. Think.
At least my captor had dressed me. That suggested they wanted me alive, at least for now. No signs <b>of </b>sexual assault either, which was one small mercy in this nightmare.
I needed to figure out who had taken me and why. Maya’s warning echoed in my mind.
<i>Someone </i><i>wants </i><i>to </i><i>kill </i><i>Adrian</i><i>. </i>
<b>10:31 </b><b>Fri</b><b>, </b><b>Oct </b>3 M
Was this connected? Using me to get to him seemed like an obvious strategy. The final trial was approaching rapidly.
What better way to throw Adrian off his game than by kidnapping someone close to him?
But who would benefit most from Adrian’s failure? The other candidates all had motives.
20 78
Maxwell, Adrian’s uncle, had always feared his nephew might one day return to reim his birthright. Even though Adrian had shown no interest in the Stormhowl Pack, Maxwell’s paran might have driven him to extreme measures,
Rodrigo seemed like another possibility. He appeared to still harbor feelings for Lydia, and he certainly wouldn’t want Adrian to win. The history between them could easily be motivation enough for such desperate measures.
Then there was Leon. The hostility between him and Adrian had be increasingly obvious. Leon had even sworn to erase the Oasisborn pack’s name from the werewolf world. But would he really target me this way?
His arrogance and pride made such underhanded tactics seem beneath him. Unless he’d been drinking wolf liquor again and lost control of himself.
And what about Xavier? The Hollywood Alpha with his perfect smile and media training. His friendly demeanor could easily be a fa?ade hiding darker intentions. Those who seem the most harmless often conceal the most dangerous <b>secrets</b><b>. </b>
I tried to shift my position to relieve the pressure on my shoulders. The ropes immediately tightened, sending fresh waves of burning pain up my arms. The wolfsbane was working its way deeper into my system, making it harder to focus.
How long had I been here? Hours? Days? Without windows or any external cues, time became impossible to measure. My throat was parched, suggesting it had been a while since I’d had water.
The sound of footsteps outside the door jerked me from my thoughts. Heavy boots against concrete,ing closer. Keys jangled, metal scraped against metal as a lock turned.
I stiffened, forcing my face into a neutral expression. Whoever wasing through that door would not see fear from me. I was a wolf, even without my shift. I would face whatever came next with the same resilience that had kept me alive this long.
The door swung open slowly, hinges protesting with a long, ominous creak.
A silhouette filled the doorway, backlit by brighter light from the hallway beyond, making it impossible to identify who stood before me.
“Hello, Skye,” the man greeted me from the doorway, his voice deep and resonant in the small concrete room. <fnb441> The source of th?s content is findnovel</fnb441>
Though I couldn’t make out his features clearly, something about his posture and the way he carried himself suggested youth. The scent that reached me confirmed he was werewolf, but I didn’t feel the crushing pressure that typically radiated from Alphas. This was someone of lower rank.
With a quick movement, he ripped the tape from my mouth. The sudden sting brought tears to my eyes, but I refused to make a sound.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from disuse.
Instead of answering, he tilted his head slightly. “Sleep well?” His tone <b>was </b>casual, almost friendly, as if we were acquaintances meeting at a coffee shop rather than captor and prisoner in a basement.
Why did that voice sound familiar? I searched my memory, trying to ce it among the countless wolves I’d encountered over the past
<b>10:31 </b>Fri, <b>Oct </b>3 M
<b>few </b>years<b>. </b>
1:1
The man stepped further into the room, the dim light gradually revealing more of him. “What’s wrong? Don’t remember me already?<i>” </i>There was amusement in his voice now, tinged with something darker.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter and cigarette. With a practiced flick, he lit it, drawing deeply. For a brief moment, the me illuminated his features clearly.
Recognition struck me like a physical blow. That face. Those eyes. The memory clicked into ce.
“It’s you?”
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