Darkness. That was the first thing Kenneth registered. A deep, consuming void pressing in on all sides, thick and suffocating. Then came the pain—sharp, burning aches radiating from his ribs, his arms, his legs. His head throbbed as if someone had driven a spike straight through his skull.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, sluggish. Cold metal bit into his wrists. Restraints. His mind sharpened instantly.
He was captured.
Kenneth's breathing quickened as his senses returned in full force. The air around him was damp, laced with the metallic tang of old blood and the musty scent of stone. His ears caught the distant dripping of water, the faint crackle of a torch. Wherever he was, it wasn't a normal holding cell.
Think. Focus.
He forced his eyes open. The dim flickering of torchlight cast eerie shadows across the cold stone walls surrounding him. He was in some kind of underground chamber, the walls lined with rusted chains and iron bars. A dungeon.
His wrists were bound by thick iron shackles, attached to a heavy chair. Silver chains wrapped tightly around his chest, burning against his skin. They had planned for him.
"Finally awake, are we?"
Kenneth snapped his head toward the voice. A man stood just beyond the bars, his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes gleamed with amusement under the low light. He wore dark tactical gear, the emblem of a silver cross stitched onto his shoulder.
A hunter.
Kenneth's jaw clenched. "Where am I?"
The man smirked. "Somewhere safe—at least for us. You, however? Not so much."
Kenneth ignored the pain searing through his body and tested the strength of his chains. They rattled but didn't budge.
"Silver-reinforced," the hunter said, noticing his efforts. "Don't bother struggling. You're not going anywhere."
Kenneth inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. "Where's Max?"
The hunter's smirk faltered just slightly before he masked it. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Kenneth's muscles tensed. "If you hurt him—"
The hunter chuckled. "You're in no position to make threats, pup." He stepped closer, gripping the bars. "You're special, though, aren't you? That little trick with your eyes back at the house… red, wasn't it?"
Kenneth stiffened. He barely remembered the moment, but now that it was brought up, a chill ran through him. Red eyes? That wasn't normal. Not even for werewolves.
The hunter watched him carefully, as if studying his every reaction. "We've hunted werewolves for generations. Seen every variation, every mutation. But red eyes? That's new."
Kenneth remained silent. He didn't know what it meant either, but he wasn't about to give them more information.
The hunter grinned. "You have no idea what you are, do you?"
Kenneth glared. "I know enough."
"Doubt it," the hunter mused. "But don't worry. We'll figure it out soon enough."
A heavy door creaked open, and another figure entered. A woman this time, dressed similarly to the hunter but carrying herself with an air of command. Her short silver hair framed a face that was both severe and calculating.
She stopped beside the man, eyeing Kenneth with quiet scrutiny. "He's stable?" she asked.
The hunter nodded. "For now. But he's stronger than the others we've taken. And the eyes…"
The woman's gaze sharpened. "I heard." She stepped closer to Kenneth, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Tell me, pup… have you ever felt different from the others? Felt something deeper inside of you?"
Kenneth met her stare with defiance. "Go to hell."
She smiled slightly. "Oh, I like this one." Then her smile faded. "You'll talk. One way or another."
She turned to the hunter. "Increase the dosage. Keep him weak. I want him alive, but barely."
Kenneth's eyes widened. Dosage? Before he could react, the hunter pulled a syringe from his belt. The liquid inside shimmered unnaturally—silver nitrate.
Kenneth growled, thrashing against his restraints, but the chains burned against his skin, sapping his strength. The hunter grabbed his arm, forcing the needle in.
A fresh wave of agony tore through him, his veins burning like fire.
The last thing he heard before the darkness swallowed him again was the woman's voice.
"Let's see what makes you so special."
--
Back at school, Frank was restless. He hadn't heard from Kenneth in over a day, and that was not normal. He tapped his foot anxiously in the cafeteria, glancing at his phone for the hundredth time. Still no messages. His stomach twisted with unease. Something was wrong, and the longer he waited, the worse the feeling grew.
Jason, who had been watching Frank's odd behavior for days, finally sat down across from him, setting his tray down with a loud thud that made Frank flinch. "Alright, man. Spill it. You've been acting weird."
Frank forced a laugh, shaking his head. "What? No, I'm just tired."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, right. You're jittery as hell, checking your phone every five seconds, and you barely touched your food. That's not 'just tired.'"
"I'm fine, Jason," Frank said quickly, taking a bite of his sandwich despite having no appetite. "Just some school stress. You know how it is."
Jason scoffed. "Dude, I know you. You don't stress over school. The last time you panicked over an exam was never."
Frank swallowed hard, trying to come up with another excuse, but before he could, another voice chimed in.
"Frank, is everything alright?"
Lena had appeared beside their table, her sharp eyes studying him behind her glasses. She was holding a book against her chest, but instead of her usual calm demeanor, she looked… concerned.
Frank forced a smile. "Yeah, of course. Just tired."
Lena didn't look convinced. "I saw you skipping class earlier. That's not like you."
Jason snapped his fingers. "See? Even Lena thinks you're acting shady."
Frank groaned, rubbing his temples. "I wasn't skipping class. I just… needed some air."
Lena exchanged a glance with Jason before sighing. "Frank, if something's wrong, you can tell us."
"Nothing's wrong."
"Then where's Kenneth?" Jason pressed, his tone shifting from casual to serious. "No one's seen him since yesterday."
Frank stiffened. "He's probably just sick or something."
Mariah, who had been walking past, stopped when she heard Kenneth's name. "Wait, Kenneth's missing?"
Frank cursed under his breath. Great, now she's involved too.
"No, he's not missing," he said, forcing a chuckle. "He's just… busy."
Mariah crossed her arms. "Busy with what?"
"Uh, family stuff," Frank said quickly. "You know, personal things."
Mariah frowned. "That doesn't sound like him. He would've at least texted."
Jason nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking."
Frank gritted his teeth. "Guys, it's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Jason repeated. "You're acting weird, Kenneth's gone, and you're dodging every question about it."
At that moment, Reddric slid into the seat next to Jason, glancing between them. "What's going on?"
"Kenneth's missing," Mariah said immediately.
Frank groaned. "He's not missing!"
Reddric raised an eyebrow. "Then where is he?"
Frank opened his mouth, but no more lies came to mind. He was cornered.
Before he could think of something, another voice cut in.
"Frank."
Frank turned to see Coach Navarro standing nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "What's this I hear about Kenneth?"
Frank blinked. "Uh… nothing, Coach. He's fine."
Coach Navarro studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Listen, I don't know what's going on, but if Kenneth's in trouble, you need to speak up."
Frank shook his head. "It's nothing. I swear."
Coach Navarro didn't seem convinced but let it drop. "Alright. But if I find out you're lying, there'll be consequences."
As the coach walked away, the table fell into silence. Everyone was looking at Frank, waiting for an explanation.
Frank exhaled slowly. He had lied his way through the conversation, but he knew one thing for certain.
I have to find Kenneth.
--
Max groaned as he came to. His entire body ached, and his wrists were bound in thick silver cuffs. The room around him was cold, sterile. He tried to move but winced at the pain lacing through his limbs.
A slow clap echoed in the room. Max turned his head to see a man in a pristine white coat standing beside him. His smile was unsettling.
"Welcome back, Alpha Max."
Max snarled. "Who the hell are you?"
The man chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough. But for now, let's see how much a werewolf can endure."
The next moment, searing pain erupted through Max's body as electricity coursed through him. He clenched his teeth, refusing to scream.
The man smiled. "Oh, you're going to be fun to break."
Max's eyes burned with fury, but as another shock ripped through him, darkness threatened to consume him once more.