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I could have done with some regrowth right about now. We were trekking down the worn steps, all the finely made rooms of the surface level bleeding away to dank, dripping stone and lichen spidering across rough-hewn walls.

Down the steps, past the cells. Defer to the commandant or whoever is in charge.

You can tell the difference by their insignias.

One pip means a captain, three means the commandant.

Feed who they want fed first, then they’re likely to leave you alone as you clean out the latrine buckets.

Time to talk then, though circumspectly.

Adam’s instructions played over and over in my mind as I firmed my grip on the bucket handles I was carrying and followed Slade and Hawk, with the rest of the pack at my back.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A tall man in the usual black armour stepped out of a room as we got to the bottom.

One silver pip, a captain. Adam had expected as much with most of the Volken upstairs celebrating.

It was a skeleton staff down here, right when we needed it.

He pulled a knife out from his belt, snickering when we all stiffened, and then dragged the silvery point through one of Hawk’s buckets.

“Paté, bread, fruit! Rich pickings indeed. Too good for this scum. And what have you brought me?”

“Dinner from the big table, m’lord,” Finn said with a much broader accent, one that was scarily close to Adam’s.

Where had he learned to do that? He held out a silver tray covered with a pure white napkin, his head bowed.

“Adam said that you were to have some of the best cuts. Kept them to one side.”

“And so he should. Only right, being relegated to the bowels of the earth.” The captain took the tray and then pulled the napkin back.

“Fish roe, cloud bread, marinated alatha skewers. Mm…my compliments to the chef.” He glanced up at us for a second, almost irritated by our presence.

“Well, go on. The miserable sods have just been released from the women’s clutches.

Not sure if they can summon the energy to eat, but feed them we must. Mind you empty those latrines as well.

The last lot have been neglecting that and the place stinks to high heaven. ”

“Of course, m’lord. Very good, m’lord,” we all said, hopefully suitably servile. The captain just nodded and then turned to return to his office.

I struggled to take in the details as we entered the Volken cell network for the first time.

My heart pounded loud in my ears as we moved around to the cages, removing the keys from the hooks we were instructed to use by Adam.

My hands shook as I put one of the buckets down so I could take those Brandon handed me.

He looked grimly determined after the shared vision.

But it was this place—the cells and the bodies within them all too similar to the way we’d looked in the Uldariel cage—that got to me.

We’d dreamed about this place, thought about it countless times once we realised it existed.

The visions and the angst overlaid the reality in a way that was hard to reconcile.

“These have to be the bowls he mentioned,” Hawk said, pulling down a stack of metal dishes. We all flinched at the sight of them. Crusted with rotten food and partially rusting, they didn’t look fit for a dog, let alone people.

We shook our heads and moved to dish out the food, but Hawk pulled the worst dishes to one side and tried to scrape free the leftover mess behind the wall of our bodies as we set to work divvying the supplies up.

“You gonna fucking feed us or what?” We all froze at the sound of someone shouting from the cells. “Stop fucking around and get it in here. My mate’s starving.”

Slade grabbed two bowls and marched over to the cell, not heeding the system we’d been given.

He didn’t have the keys, forcing Jack to run over and put them into the lock that opened the slot in each cell.

Jack’s eyes flicked around the room, at the captain’s office and the other cells, especially now that the inhabitants were starting to rouse.

The captain’s door remained resolutely closed.

“Kerry?” Slade said, and the man in the cage froze.

“Slade?”

My mate’s name rang clearly through the complex in a horrible mixture of disbelief and despair. We all clustered around the cell, hissing for quiet, but there was no getting this cat back into its bag.

“Slade? What the fuck, man? What are you?—”

“If you don’t all shut the fuck up right now, we’re in the cells with you, rather than getting you out of them.”

Finn uttered the words in a low monotone, but the effect was instantaneous. I could no more have made a peep than turned into a chicken.

“We’re here to get the lot of you out, but we can’t do it today,” Finn said, glancing down the rows of cells.

Aaron looked up at that. We hadn’t decided that with what we now knew.

“We’re doing reconnaissance, finding out how many are down here, and formulating a plan.

It’s going to take time, but we’re going to get you home. ”

“Finn…?”

The voice was thin and ragged, sounding more like the creaking of stones than a human larynx, but the effect was stark.

Finn’s head whipped around, his eyes searching the cells, looking for the location the voice came from.

I moved to his side, following him as he took long strides down the cells, until we pulled up somewhere near the end.

The light was poor here, lit only by torches on the walls, but that was enough for Finn.

His fingers wrapped around the cell bars, his just above the internees.

The man inside looked at him like he was an angel, the lost city of Atlantis, and a twelve-course meal all rolled into one.

“My…” The man’s hand reached up, then pulled back, flinching away from contact. Finn’s hand jerked up, catching the fingers before they could retreat further.

“Dad?” he said. “Dad, is that you?”

“No, no, no, not my boy, not here. We made a deal. She promised, promised he would never come,” the man started to babble. He jerked out of Finn’s grip, his fingers beginning to claw at his face. “No, Max, no. It can’t be happening. This can’t happen!”

“Dad,” Finn hissed, and my hand shot out to take his.

The confident alpha of moments ago had been quickly replaced by a child desperately trying to reach out to their parent.

I felt the tight tangle of emotions inside him—frustration, anger, shame, but overwhelmingly, there was need.

“Dad,” he said, his voice beginning to shake. “Dad!”

His father came to a standstill as Finn’s will beat down on him.

“You’re going to be calm. Do nothing to draw the attention of the guard. Sit down and talk to me, while the others serve up the food.”

Finn’s father sat in a neat cross-legged pose and looked up at his son.

It was all still there though, shining in his green eyes.

Inside, this man screamed, but for the moment, I was glad for the silence.

Now that he was managed, I listened to the rest of the pack as they delivered the food, talked to the inmates, and learned about how this fucking prison was run.

“We’re the only lifers,” Johnno said to Aaron.

“From what I can see, any of the ones on the surface that commit infractions are taken straight down to that fucking wolf they got captive. No mess, no fuss, and the lot of them get a power boost, don't they? But not us. Gotta get sons on the women, don’t they?” The man looked at the ground for a second.

“Mate, I know I said I’d never turn away free pussy, but Aaron, these women?—"

“It’s OK,” Aaron said. “Don’t worry about that now. We’ll get you out, and then we can sort through that stuff. Where’s the weak points? What’s the personnel like?”

“Is that…?” Finn asked, pointing a shaking finger at a figure lying flat on the ground.

“Rhydian? Yes, son,” Finn’s dad replied.

“He’s… There’s no other way to say it, son.

He’s not doing so well. I’ve told them and told them—this is too much.

We could keep pushing out sons forever if they just took better care of us, but I can’t get them to let him see a medic. The prick ran off by all accounts.”

“How…how bad is it?”

“He’s running on empty. We all are, but Rhydian’s run down.

That’s why the cells aren’t that full. They wring everything they can get out of us, and then we go into decline.

Max’s trying his best. That fucker Lian has made him his pet.

He asks for us, for medical help, but they just laugh.

They want us as studs, need us to keep giving them sons, but they won’t even give us basic care. ”

I watched Grey, because that’d be who he was, the last of Grace’s mates.

His hands balled into fists, the tendons and bones pushing out through the surface of his thin skin, the muscles shaking with the effort.

Rhydian lay in a messy heap of long stringy hair and ragged clothing.

I reached for and took Finn’s hand, fishing the crystal out with the other, and it gleamed with a gentle green glow in the low light.

The Volken seemed to be able to use the crystals as a means to channel the Great Wolf’s power.

I thought of those green tendrils in the darkness… Perhaps we could do the same?

Both men’s eyes turned to it, with quite different reactions.

Finn nodded, a desperate need burning inside him.

He held my hand tight, the power of the bond throbbing through us like an electrical current.

But Grey’s reaction was something else altogether.

He scrabbled back, obviously seeing it as yet another means to coerce him.

“No, Grey,” I said, “this will…”

He shifted over to hunch protectively over Rhydian’s prone form, the other man groaning in response.