Van

Van gripped the edges of her pillow and pulled them toward her face to cover her ears. Whoever was in charge of the music was going through something, listening to the same jarring song on repeat. At last, the final notes faded away, giving her a few blessed moments of relief, but within seconds, the pounding tempo started again.

"Oh, my god. I can't take it anymore," she screamed, throwing the pillow at the yellowed and scratched bedroom door. It hit hard enough to make the wood splinter, and immediately after, the music ceased.

With a contented sigh, she sunk into the mattress and closed her eyes. A few hours of sleep to get rid of the headache her trip to a prison dimension had caused, and she would be in fighting shape. That's all she wanted.

But it seemed she wasn't going to get it. The door flung open, and one of her captors entered. Sickly yellow eyes glared at her beneath overgrown brows. He wasn't the same man who took her from the bathroom, but he was just as ugly with jowls and skin pitted with acne scars.

"Can I help you?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed and adopting a bored tone even as her heart pounded in her chest. There was a strong possibility these men were werewolves, and she didn't know enough about them to be confident she could fight them. Especially not when her abilities were unreliable.

"Did you throw something at this door?" he spat.

"Yes."

Her eyes flew open when he hauled her off the bed by the front of her shirt. Eyes aglow, he snarled, and wiry hairs sprouted from his elongating nose. Definitely werewolves.

"This is my home, and I don't take kindly to people destroying it."

"And I don't take kindly to being held prisoner," Van snapped back, far more confidently than someone should when their feet were dangling off the floor.

To her surprise, the anger in the man's face faded, and he lowered her to the ground. "I don't suppose you do, but I have to do what my Alpha tells me to do."

"Your Alpha..." She knew a little about alphas from the Shifter world, but she doubted it worked the same for werewolves. "Is he the one from the restaurant?"

"He is."

Surprised by his honesty, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Van."

He took it and shook hard. "Axl."

Of course, his name was Axl. He walked out of the room, leaving the door open, and she assumed that meant she was free to follow. Dingy carpet–likely once cream colored but now decidedly yellow–stretched across the entire house. From the hallway to the living room and from what she could see, into the kitchen.

Aluminum foil concealed the windows, and wood paneling covered the walls. Here and there someone had nailed boards in what appeared to be random spots, but when she stopped to inspect one, she spied the jagged edges of broken wood behind it. And he had the nerve to be angry at her for throwing a pillow at the door?

"You hungry?" he asked when she settled herself on the sagging orange and brown sofa pushed against the wall.

She nodded enthusiastically. The few bites of burger and fries she managed at the diner were long gone. An aching rumble went through her stomach, and she put her hand over it to muffle the noise. How long had it been since the diner? She had no clue how long she had been unconscious.

But before she could ask, Axl said, "I was starting to get worried about you. You've been out cold for three days."

"Three days?"

His heavy combat boots left prints in the carpet as he walked toward her with a plate of sandwiches, chips, and a soda. He hovered over her until she picked up a sandwich and took a big bite. It could've been a moldy cheese sandwich, and she would have devoured it.

Thankfully, Axl took more pride in his food than his house. Tangy horseradish and savory roast beef exploded on her tongue, and she closed her eyes to savor the flavor. When she opened them again, Axl watched her with a half cocked smile and a twinkle in his pale yellow gaze. That's when she realized he wasn't as ugly as she initially thought, or very old. Maybe a few years older than herself.

"My Ma makes that horseradish."

"It's delicious. Thank you."

"I thought maybe Tank hit you too hard, and you weren't never gonna wake up," Axl said, lowering his enormous frame into an overstuffed recliner. "I was pretty upset about it. We may not have the best hold on our tempers most of the time, but we don't usually hurt little girls."

Speaking around a mouthful, she fixed him with a hard look. "But you kidnap them?"

Axl rubbed the back of his neck. His sienna skin reddened. "No, we don't make a habit of that. Fact, we usually keep a low profile. We can't afford to get run out of Sucre. No one else tolerates werewolves like they do here."

Excitement bubbled in her chest. Sucre. That was where they were headed before the diner. Luca could be close. Maybe her three days asleep hadn't been a complete waste.

"Why are you telling me all this?" She sipped on the cold drink and waited for him to answer, hoping her expression was neutral. He was friendly enough, but she didn't want him to start asking her questions.

He shrugged. "Tank didn't say I couldn't answer questions. He just told me I had to keep you here and keep you alive. I can't tell him no when he commands me to do something, but us werewolves get real good at finding loopholes."

His half smile blossomed to a full one, and she returned it in equal measure. "Did he tell you why he needed you to keep me here?"

The smile drooped. "No. He said that wasn't for me to know."

Damn it.

"But I bet it has something to do with that trashy vamp woman he's been hooking up with lately."

Van almost spit out her drink. Gabriella. It had to be. "Trashy vamp?"

"Don't get me wrong. She's nice looking, but she's a vamp. Like..." His face scrunched up, and he tapped his chin. "Like we're this way because we got unlucky, you know? I didn't choose to be a werewolf. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I try really hard to hold on to my temper. It's not always easy. When you threw that pillow, I nearly shifted and ate you, but my human half won that time."

"Thank goodness for that," she murmured and cleared her throat. Any other time, she would have found all this fascinating and encouraged him to tell her more about being a werewolf, but right now, she only cared about one thing. "So, about this vamp?"

He shrugged and pushed back in the recliner, releasing the foot rest. "I only know about her cause a couple of the other pack members told me they saw him with her at Fang and Claw, a local bar. He left with her, and he's been acting weird since."

"Do you think she's done something to him?"

Van's fingers fluttered near her throat as she imagined a collar like Luca's clamped around Tank's throat. Was it possible to use the collars on werewolves to control them? When Luca first told her about the collars, he made it sound like they worked on Shifters because their magic came from Protean, but it could simply be the Protean magic itself.

"Doubtful. We're immune to most drugs, and vampire venom does nothing to us. Maybe she offered him something or maybe she just has a really good pu–" He choked back the word and looked at the ceiling. "Anyway. I should probably stop talking now. Wanna listen to some music?"

"No!" she shouted. Then, in a softer voice, she added, "I have a bit of a headache."

"I'll get you some meds. Headaches suck, man. Then you gotta go back to your room. I don't know when Tank will be back, but he won't be happy to see you out here."

"Why don't you just let me go?"

A flash of anger lit his eyes. "I already told you. I have orders."

"But–"

He growled and aggressively lowered the footrest, earning a sharp protest from the spring as it snapped shut against the chair. It took three steps for him to reach her, and he yanked her off the couch, his fingers digging into her arm hard enough to bruise.

"You're hurting me."

"You pushed when you shouldn't have," Axl explained, dragging her back to the bedroom. He shoved her toward the bed and snarled when she whirled to face him with a fierce glare of her own.

"Don't," he panted, the anger in his face morphing to horror and back.

"Don't what?" Van demanded, nails lengthening into razor sharp talons.

Axl backed away and grabbed the door frame. He appeared to be in physical pain, but he wouldn't look away. And Van found she couldn't force herself either.

"Don't stare me down like that. It's dangerous. I may not be an Alpha, but wolves don't like to be challenged. If you don't stop, I'll be forced to fight. I don't want to hurt you."

Van considered her options. The safer choice was to do as he said, but she had a gut feeling that once he closed that door and locked it, any chance of escape was gone. Tank would return, most likely with Gabriella, and Proteus' warning rang loud in her mind.

"Whatever you do, you must not allow Gabriella to use you. She needs you to be a vessel."

That meant she had to take a stand now. Raising her hands, she flashed her new claws. Axl rewarded her with a look of shock, but it was short-lived. The last bit of his humanity vanished, as if realizing she wasn't completely defenseless was enough to erase any guilt he might have about fighting her.

Axl remained upright as gray fur covered his body, and he howled as bones snapped and twisted. Within seconds, at least two feet had been added to his already impressive height, and when he growled at her, saliva dripped from three-inch canines.

"Challenges always end one way, little human." Speaking through a snout made his words guttural and poorly formed.

She didn't have to ask to know the answer, but she did anyway. "And that is?"

"Death."

Then he lunged at her.