Chapter 2: New Pack

The sun hung in the sky like a giant furnace, its scorching heat enveloping me from every direction. The dust kicked up by the truck's rear wheels mercilessly filled my nose and throat. I felt an intense wave of heat and thirst wash over me.

I attempted to swallow, but the coarse sand-like dust clinging to my throat only exacerbated the discomfort. I coughed uneasily, prompting the other slave sitting beside me to cast a disgusted look and reluctantly move to the opposite side, as if my breath carried a deadly virus.

The journey continued, with guards withholding food and water from the enslaved until they reached their destination. Any sign of trouble would result in the slaves being mercilessly struck on the head with the butt of the guards' guns as punishment. Yet no one dared to utter a single word of complaint throughout the entire ordeal.

Slaves occupied the lowest rung of the werewolf society, not only lacking physical strength but also unable to procreate. They were forced to toil for higher-ranking werewolves, serving even as objects of sexual gratification. Even if the penal system allowed slaves to bear children, such offspring would be deemed illegitimate, stripped of inheritance and any special privileges.

Omega werewolves, born with slave blood, were fated to remain in servitude for life. Another category of werewolves faced enslavement as punishment for breaking the law. Unfortunately, I, too, am a werewolf who fell afoul of the law and was coerced into slavery.

I vividly recall the moment when the Royal Guards stormed into my home, accusing my father and his family of collusion with the conspirators. They forcibly separated me from my father and tossed me into a military vehicle, where I screamed and desperately struggled against the guards as one of them prepared to shoot. My babysitter, Linda, shielded me with her own body.

I could feel the gun's muzzle brushing against my ear, and Linda's blood trickled down my forehead. Her hand remained protectively by my side.

"Don't say a word to them," were the last words Linda uttered to me.

From that moment on, I chose silence. The inquisitor saw no point in wasting his time on me after failing to extract any useful information during my time in prison. He instructed the guards to provide me with only one meal a day and a glass of water. Prior to this, he had attempted to bribe me with sweets and chocolates every time he interrogated me, hoping for a confession implicating my father in a conspiracy.

What better evidence than a daughter testifying against her own father? But I was no longer an innocent little girl. As an adult, right before my imprisonment, I encountered my wolf companion, Melissa. She assured me that opting for silence was the right course of action.

When the seduction tactics failed, Judge Redbeard took me to my father's prison cell, where he forced me to witness the tortured prisoner strapped to the rack. It was hard to believe it was my father. His body bore numerous wounds, his face covered in blood.

"If you don't want to end up like him, do as I say," threatened Judge Redbeard. "You will be granted freedom as long as you prove your father's involvement in the mutiny!"

My heart trembled, pierced by anguish. I longed to save my father, to exact revenge upon those who had harmed him. However, two burly soldiers seized me by the shoulders, rendering me immobile.

"Aray, don't!" came my father's final psychic plea. "The Crescent Pack did not betray the King, we were mistaken."

It was the last connection my father managed to establish with all his might.

Silently enduring, I stood motionless as the guards led me away, oblivious to the fact that it would be the last time I laid eyes on my father.

My gaze remained fixated on the red-bearded judge as he forcefully slammed my head against the wall before departing. Melissa growled deep within me.

I watched him disappear, promising myself that I would forever remember his face.

Melissa, it's been a long time since I last spoke to her. After being drugged, the connection between her and me grew weaker. The guards read the charges against me in prison and informed me that my father had been secretly executed. They injected me before taking me out of prison.

I had no idea that the clear liquid in the small syringe was a depressant until I found myself among a group of slaves. Not only does it weaken the werewolf, but it also severs the bond between partners.

The ultimate goal is to have better control over the slaves.

They loaded the slaves onto trucks like cattle and transported them to our master's pack. I wasn't certain if the slaves in the car were actually part of the rebels' own families as I initially thought. Unintentionally, I ended up targeting some of them who bore symbols of other tribes on their bare arms, indicating that they once belonged to an alpha of a tribe. Perhaps I would be expelled again for making a mistake.

Linda had told me that slaves who had been abandoned twice couldn't remain in the tribe, and nobody knew what their fate would be.

The truck pulled up to the curb, and a guard held up the list, reading the names aloud. One by one, the named slaves were pushed out of the truck, and I noticed that they were all second-time castaways.

For about ten minutes, the slaves huddled by the side of the road with fear in their eyes. Another truck approached from the front and picked them up, and I noticed the words "Argyll Mine" written on the back of the truck. It turned out they had been sent to work as laborers in the mines.

Now, I'm kind of relieved that I'm not one of them, but who's to say I won't be in the same situation next time?

There was still plenty of space inside the truck, although it was not as crowded as when they first boarded. However, the remaining slaves refused to move an inch.

The heat intensified, and the atmosphere inside the car became more stifling as the temperature rose. The truck made a brief stop at a forward outpost, and two more slaves were forced out of the truck. I peered inside and saw that they were picked up by an SUV. Although they had to get into the trunk, at least it wasn't heading to the mines. The car had proper license plates and appeared to be a commercial vehicle belonging to a certain tribe. My father used to own an exclusive Mercedes commercial car that he used for meetings as an Alpha.

Thinking of my father made my heart sink into despair. The dust lingering in my nose seemed to seep into my eyes, and I fought back the urge to cry out. I knew that making any noise now would only invite the guards' relentless scolding.

I tightly wrapped my arms around myself and buried my head between my knees, silently shedding tears that trickled down the small space between them. One drop, two drops, three drops, until the truck stopped once again, and I quickly suppressed my tears.

"Arya Boleyn," the guard shouted my name, but when I looked up, I realized I was alone in the truck.

"You!" The guard pointed at me coldly, "Get out of the car and squat."

I followed his instructions, and the guard whispered something to a small, middle-aged man in a black suit. The man then pulled out a document for the guard to sign. Eventually, the man grabbed me by the collar and forcefully shoved me into the trunk of a car.

As soon as the trunk closed, darkness engulfed me. The car started moving slowly, and I curled up in the tight, sweltering space, repulsed by the strong smell of plastic. I fought the urge to vomit, silently praying for it to be over soon.

The car came to a stop, and someone opened the trunk. Before I could fully see the man's face, I hastily jumped out of the car, my stomach churning so intensely that I had to bend over and throw up.

"Is that her, the slave?" The woman's tone dripped with arrogance.

"Yes," the man simply replied.

"Give her to me." The woman approached me and immediately wrinkled her nose, "Damn, how long has it been since you showered? Your body smells worse than a drunk man's."

I remained silent, bowing my head as I discreetly wiped the remaining saliva from the corners of my mouth with my sleeve. Then I overheard the women talking.

"Damn, is she dumb?"

"The medical report says she's normal," the man stated, "Daisy, I don't have time to waste with you. I need to wash the car. She's making the Alpha's car reek."

The woman named Daisy cast me a scornful look, covering her nose, and said, "Follow me!"