Page 12 of Pack Kasen, Part 1 (Caught #1)

11

KAT

I ’m lying on the cage floor when a door opens, letting in a small waft of cool air that makes me shiver slightly.

The scent of sharp orange and wild jasmine tickles my nose.

When I force my eyelids apart, no one is there, but I get the sense someone was there, stood just outside my cage, watching me.

It puts me on edge, and I don’t know why.

Hours later, I’ve pushed myself into an upright position. After what happened the last time I touched the bars of my cage, I have no intention of going near them. I did, at least, shake off the sick, jittery weakness I had before.

But it still smells of sickness, which is deeply disturbing because I’m never sick. In foster care, all the other kids got sick, but I never had so much as a sniffle, no matter how cold it got and whether or not I wore a jacket out.

When the door swings open, I brace myself for battle.

It’s the other shifter. The quiet one.

The beta… whatever that’s supposed to mean.

He’s holding a bottle of water, which he walks over to me and pushes between the bars of my cage. “Here.”

I can’t help but notice he’s careful not to brush against them. Just what the hell is this thing made of?

I study the bottle but make no move to take it. “Did you poison it?”

He shakes his head. “I have no reason to poison you. Drink.”

“Did your friend tell you to bring it to me?”

Again, he shakes his head. “In fact, I could get into trouble for this, which is why you need to drink and return the bottle to me so he doesn’t find out.”

“So it’s definitely poisoned then.”

He gives me a steady look. “I have no interest in poisoning you.” His gaze sharpens then. “You look sick.”

I bend my head and pick up the bottle, more to hide my face from him than from an eagerness to drink. My hair is a tangled mess at this point, but because I have no hair ties, I combed my fingers through the dark strands and called it good.

“You’re the beta. Does that mean you’re his servant or something?” It takes a surprising amount of effort to twist the bottle cap open.

“It means I’m his second. An advisor, if you will. My name is Finan. Packs do not have a family name the way humans do,” he says, watching me closely. “We do, however, share a pack name. Ours is Kasen.”

I don’t know why he feels I need to know that. “So you’re like a family?”

“Yes,” he says. “And your name?”

“Ask the guys your boss had watching me. They seem to know all about me.” When he opens his mouth, I speak first. “So you’re likely to get into trouble for not doing what you’re told.” I take a small sip of the coolest, most refreshing water I’ve ever tasted in my life.

“Aren and I are in agreement about most things,” he says.

But not about me if he’s here secretly sneaking me water.

Unless his boss is outside listening to this conversation and this is just a ploy to get me to talk. After Blaine’s betrayal, I learned to keep my eyes open, and for the most part, I haven’t had too many knives in my back.

“A feral killed his mother,” Finan says suddenly.

I blink at him. “Why are you telling me that?”

“So you can have some idea of why he is the way he is.”

“And I need to know that before he kills me because…?”

“There is something different about you.” He studies me for a beat. “I saw it when he had Cruz and Wes brought you here. Aren refuses to see it. Perhaps in time you—and he—will see it too.”

Talk about annoyingly vague.

“See what?”

He shakes his head. “I came to tell you a little of his past so you could understand him. That conversation is best for another time.”

I think I’d have a little more sympathy if he didn’t have me squatting over a bucket in a cage. “Losing family is a hard thing,” I say slowly. If anyone would know how hard, it’s me. “But for him to tar every single bitten human, because that’s what they are, with the same brush, seems excessive.”

“After the feral killed Aren’s mother, he escaped, killing three others before Aren’s father could kill him. Though not before he suffered a fatal wound. He died in Aren’s arms.”

“How old was he?”

“Ten.”

I try really hard to cling to my anger. Ten is way too young to lose so many people you love. Especially as violently as that.

He points his chin at the cage. “ This was an attempt to understand them at first. His mother was our Luna, and she wanted to help them. She believed every shifter should have a home and a pack, but she failed. Not all bitten humans become ferals but enough do. Aren did what he could to prevent more feral attacks in Montana. When he didn’t feel like he was having enough impact, he entered the Wolf King Trials at fifteen.”

I frown. “The Wolf King Trials. What’s that?”

“ Finan !” a male voice bellows.

A familiar one.

Finan glances over his shoulder and I know whatever time we had just ran out. “Try not to judge him too harshly. He lost everyone he loved because of a feral and stepped into a position he wasn’t ready for, but the pack needed him, so he did it. Pack is everything to him, and he will do anything to save the people he loves. He’s intelligent, but he’s stubborn. Right now, the stubbornness is winning.” He points at the bottle in my hand. “Drink. I must return to the house.”

“You could let me go, then you wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking me water anymore,” I suggest, swigging from the bottle. It goes down faster than I’d intended. I told myself I would savor it, but instead, I drain the contents in seconds. “I mean, if you’re here breaking the rules and all, what’s one more?”

A hint of a smile curls his lips. “That rule I cannot break. The bottle.”

I hesitate.

If I keep hold of it, the Viking would know someone had broken a rule by giving it to me. Maybe I could cause problems between them and create an opportunity to escape that way.

But then I remember what I’m up against.

A guy like the Viking won’t bother sniping with his friend. He’ll just rip out his throat and get some other guard to watch me. There’s no opportunity there.

I screw the lid back on the empty bottle and carefully push it between the bars of my cage.

He watches my hands and then picks up the empty bottle.

“Don’t touch the bars. They are dangerous to us,” he says quietly, and he walks away.

My heart spikes in alarm. “Wait, what!”

The door slams shut after him.

I stare after him, confused, frustrated, and scared. I just had firsthand experience of how dangerous those bars are, but I was alone when that happened. Why is he warning me now?

I peer into all four corners of my cell, and there’s not even a hint of a camera on me.

My eyes return to the closed door.

He was telling me the truth when he gave me that warning. I touched these bars, and I woke up a shell of myself, shivering, trembling, sick, and weak.

It was like my wolf was gone.

Someone removed the chain from around my neck when they put in here, but they had to have put that chain on me for a reason. And I think I know what that reason was.

My wolf was quiet when I was wearing the chain. My usually keen wolf senses were so terrible I could barely tell who was in the throne room.

Something in the metal silences my need to change because I haven’t had the slightest itch to be a wolf since I woke up in here. And, terrifyingly, it mutes my wolf’s voice.

But for how long? For a short time? Forever?

The door crashes open again and I jump.

It’s a bright sunny day out there from the way the sunlight bounces off an unfamiliar guy’s high cheekbones. The brightness gives the impression he’s bald, though he has a short blond buzz. His honey-brown eyes study me curiously as he gives me—and the room—a quick scan. “Ah, I guess Aren isn’t here.”

He lingers in the open doorway instead of actually leaving.

I step up to the cage, careful not to touch it. “Why do I have a feeling you knew that before you opened that door?”

He widens his eyes in surprise. “You think that?”

I study him some more, then I return to sitting on the floor, crossing my legs. Might as well get comfortable and preserve my energy if I’m not going toe-to-toe with the Wolf King.

“I guess you were curious about the caged feral and are here to study me like an animal in a zoo.”

He darts a rapid glance over his shoulder, then enters the room, pulling the door closed before he leans against the wall opposite my cage.

Like the beta, he’s in casual clothes. Black sweatpants and a long-sleeve dark gray T-shirt that he’s pushed up to his elbows, revealing tanned, strong forearms. And bare feet. We really must be in the sticks if no one around here wears shoes.

He’s yet another attractive guy, but since the man responsible for putting me in this cage is a tool, I don’t have high hopes that this one is not.

He crosses his arms. “Maybe a little.”

I eye him curiously. “You could let me out.”

A crooked smile kicks him up from an eight out of a ten to an eleven. The Viking is a twenty, but again, he’s a tool, so that failing knocks him back to a three. Maybe less.

“I could. But I happen to like my head attached to my body, so that’s not going to happen, pretty lady.” His gaze turns speculative. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Ah, you assumed I was crying in a corner?”

He jerks his head in a small motion that could be yes or maybe. “They’re usually screaming or begging by this point.”

“To pass the time? I don’t blame them. There’s not so much as a book in this place for entertainment,” I quip, my tone dry.

He laughs. “I think I like you.”

“Enough to open up that door and let me out?” My tone is hopeful, but I know what the answer will be. No one is letting me out of this cage. That is one task I have to figure out on my own.

He wags one finger at me. “Not quite.”

We study each other in silence. Unless I’m mistaken, he’s as curious about me as I am about him. My interest in him isn’t because he’s attractive. It’s the feral intelligence in his gaze that suggests he’s like me. A werewolf.

I prefer the term the Viking used. Shifter makes me feel less of a wild animal. Though, maybe being in a cage is what’s making me feel like an animal.

I’ve gone from believing I was the only werewolf to suddenly being surrounded by others like me.

It’s bittersweet. Years ago, I would have killed to know more about what I was and why I am the way I am. But learning about it this way makes me wish I was alone in the world.

“I’m Kat,” I introduce myself. “Who are you?”

He seems surprised by my willingness to talk. “Troy.”

“Do you think he’s going to kill me soon?”

He cocks his head, curious. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m supposed to be giving the graduation speech soon, and I’d feel a lot less guilty about missing it if I was dead than if I was here squatting over a bucket, caveman style.”

He laughs. “I definitely like you. Can’t do much about the facilities, sorry. Why are you giving the graduation speech?”

“They asked me to.”

“Because?”

“No one else wanted to do it,” I lie.

His eyes turn thoughtful as he scratches his jaw. “It’s been some time since I’ve been in the city, but aren’t the students that give speeches usually top of the class?”

Ah, so this guy went to college.

Maybe.

I eye him some more, conscious he didn’t actually admit that he went to college. He’s being as careful with his words—and what he tells me—as I am.

We’re not in the city. That’s something I didn’t know before. Considering the sheer size of Montana, I could literally be anywhere. That nugget of information might not be helpful, but it’s something new.

“I did okay,” I say vaguely.

I’m graduating at the top of my class, which is why they asked me to give the speech. I worked hard for it, and it’s an honor that helped me secure a job in one of the best accounting firms in the country.

Yet here I am, squatting to take a piss in a bucket like a literal animal in a zoo.

I was wrong about the Viking being a three out of ten. For making me do that? He’s a minus ten.

The door suddenly swings open, and Troy straightens, a mask coming down over his face as he turns away. I’d expected the Viking, and I think he had as well, but it’s another guy.

A familiar one.

From the quick flick of his hazel gaze to the lock on my cage, he’s definitely a guard, checking to make sure the prisoner is nice and secured.

“Troy, we have a meeting over breakfast,” he says, turning away from me.

One mention of breakfast makes my already hollow belly feel even more empty.

Troy flashes me a grin as he turns to leave. “I’ll be seeing you, pretty lady.”

But I’m not focused on him anymore. My mind just made a connection.

“I know you.” I step up to the front of my cage as I try to remember Corvette guy’s name. Cruz. “You were watching me on campus, and you blew me a kiss.”

Why would he do that?

If someone is watching you, surely they’d want to be secretive and not draw any attention.

Cruz peers over his shoulder. “You would have sensed someone watching you. I had to get you to stop questioning that feeling and tell yourself it was just a creep, so you wouldn’t notice the other guy watching you until it was time to grab you.”

He walks out then, closing the door and leaving me alone to ponder.

His plan worked perfectly.

I totally missed the other guy until it was too late.

“If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be impressed,” I mutter.

Because as ideas go, it’s a good one. I wonder who thought of it?