Chapter 5

I didn't break my silence. A hunter who reveals her hand before the trap is sprung is nothing more than future meat.

For three days, I remained perfectly still in the shadows of cell 104, playing the role of the dumb, oblivious human they took me for. I ate my moldy bread, I stared blankly at the sweating cement ceiling, and I watched them. From across the corridor, Nova and Harlow continued their quiet, frantic signing, their new dialect flashing in the shadows like a gathering storm. They were looking at me with increasing hostility, convinced that my nine months of survival were proof that I was sleeping with the enemy.

But while they wasted their energy spinning conspiracies, I spent my hours dissecting the logic of our cage.

I turned the puzzle over over in my mind until the pieces finally began to click into place. Nine months—almost ten. Why keep five girls—four powerful werewolves and one human—alive and intact for three entire seasons? If our captors wanted us dead, we would have been carcasses in the forest months ago. If they wanted to break us, they would have used the whip. But they hadn't. Our rations were small, but they were consistent. The water was clean enough to keep us from catching a fatal fever.

They want us here, I realized, the truth settling deep and cold into my chest. They need us alive. In a twisted, systematic way, they are keeping us safe.

We weren't being held for execution; we were being hoarded like trophies. And the realization brought an even sharper, uglier truth with it: the iron bars separating us from the corridor weren't the real obstacle. The guards were few, the security was lazy, and the magic on our throats didn't stop our limbs from moving. The only thing truly keeping us inside these walls for nine months was our own collective, paralyzing fear of what lay beyond the door.

I waited until the middle of the night, when the heavy, synchronized breathing of the wolves filled the narrow corridor, signaling that sleep had finally taken them. The single torch at the far end of the hall was sputtering, throwing long, erratic shadows across the stone floor.

I slipped off my cot, my bare feet making absolutely no sound against the damp concrete. I reached into my mattress, pulling out the heavy, jagged stone I had used to carve my tallies.

I walked straight to the iron bars, pulled my arm back, and hurled the stone across the corridor.

CLINK.

The rock struck Harlow’s iron bars with a sharp, metallic ring that sounded like a gunshot in the dead silence of the dungeon.

Harlow bolted upright instantly, her golden wolf-eyes flashing in the darkness as her head thrashed around, looking for the source of the noise. The commotion stirred the rest of the cells. Reese shifted, her green eyes narrowing in the gloom, and next to me, Nova scrambled to the front of her bars, her jaw set in an immediate, silent snarl.

They all locked their eyes onto me. I was standing rigid against my bars, the dim light catching the sharp lines of my face.

Before Nova could form a single hostile sign in her corrupted dialect, I lifted my hands into the torchlight. I didn't use her language. I used the pure, original code—the one Harlow and I had built touch by touch, month by month, when the dark was too heavy to bear.

I know, I signed, my movements sharp, cold, and absolutely precise. I know what you and Nova sign about me. You think I am a spy. You think my smooth skin makes me a traitor to your wolves.

Harlow stiffened, her face draining of what little color it had. Nova, however, pushed herself closer to the iron, her icy blue eyes drilling into mine. Her hands moved violently, her unrefined gestures sharp with malice.

We do not trust you, Nova signed, a vicious twist of her wrist. You are human. Fragile. The captors leave you alone because you are one of them. We do not risk our lives on a mole.

I let out a soundless, bitter laugh through my nose, my jaw tightening as I stared Nova down. I raised my hands again, cutting through her hostility with absolute certainty.

You are fools, I signed back. Look at the logic of this place. Nine months we sit here. Why? Because they need us intact. They will not kill us if we try to leave, because our deaths ruin whatever price they are hoarding us for. They are afraid to lose us. They won't kill us. We are too valuable to their game.

Nova’s hands cut in, fast and mocking. You are weak. If they catch a human escaping, they will lock you tighter. But we are werewolves. We have beasts inside us. If we break these bars, we can actually kill them. We can rip their throats out. But if we fail? If we risk it and the guards suppress us, they will punish our packs. The stakes are too high for us to gamble on a human's whim.

I took a slow, deep breath, stepping closer to the rusted iron until my chest nearly touched the metal. I let my gaze slowly travel from Nova, to Harlow and finally to Reese, ensuring they all felt the weight of what I was about to ask.

Then let's play out your conspiracy, I signed, my hands moving with deliberate, biting slowness. If I am the spy, if I am the weak human... what happens if I escape? Then what?

I looked directly into Nova’s icy blue eyes. Do you want me to open up your cells and let you free when I get the keys? Do you want the fragile human to hand you your liberty on a silver platter?

I paused, letting the silence of the dungeon heavy up.

How much worth do you actually give to me being a human versus your own freedom? I challenged, my fingers snapping out the final symbols with a lethal sharpness. You sit there calling me weak, yet you let your fear of a few human guards keep you chained in the dark for a year. You claim your wolves can kill them, but you choose to rot here instead of trying.

Nova shifted her weight, her lips thinning into a hard line, but her hands stayed still. She looked across the corridor to Harlow, then back to Reese. None of them moved. The heavy, suffocating fear of the unknown—the fear of failing an escape and bringing wrath down on their bloodlines—held them in place more securely than any spell.

Harlow finally raised her hands, her movements heavy with a somber, definitive reluctance. The risk is too great for the pack. We stay. We wait for a rescue.

Reese looked away, her eyes dropping to the floorboards, unable to meet my gaze. They had made their choice. Their wolf instincts told them to protect the pack, to minimize the threat, to endure the cage until the odds were entirely in their favor.

I nodded slowly, a cold, detached clarity settling deep into my chest. I lowered my hands to my sides, my fingers curling tightly. I didn't need them. A hunter tracks alone.

I gave them one final, dismissive glance through the bars, my posture radiating an absolute, unyielding independence. Fine, I signed, the motion final and flat. Stay in your cages. Wear your chains. Lara will do what she needs to escape. No one else wants to risk it, so I will take my time, and I will walk out of here on my own.

Lara, Reese then signed, be careful. I don't want to be here without you.

I turned my back on the corridor, ignoring Reese's kind words, Nova’s lingering, furious glare, and Harlow’s widening, struck eyes. I retreated into the deep, dark corner of cell 104, my hand sliding down to touch the wooden leg of my cot.

They thought I was reckless. They thought being human meant I would simply throw myself at the bars in a fit of panic. They were wrong. A hunter doesn't just run into a clearing blindly; she maps the terrain. She studies the patterns of her prey. She waits, weeks if she has to, until the layout is flawless, the guard shifts are predictable, and the escape is not just an attempt, but a guaranteed execution of strategy.

I'm going to dismantle this prison piece by systematic piece, and when I finally strike, they will realize exactly how much a human’s patience is worth.