Chapter 2: Cracks in the Cage

The shed I called a room was a squat box of splintered wood behind the pack house, barely big enough for a cot and a crate I used as a table. The lantern cast jittery shadows as I sat cross-legged on the floor, coins clinking in my hands. I counted them slow—twenty-three now, plus the one from yesterday. Not enough for a bus ticket and a week’s food, but close. Footsteps crunched outside, and I froze, shoving the coins under a loose floorboard. The door creaked open, and I was on my feet, fists up, before I saw who it was.

“Easy, killer,” Milo said, slipping in with a grin. He tossed me an apple, red and bruised, and flopped onto my cot like he owned it. His chipped tooth glinted in the light, and his dark hair stuck out wild from the wind. “Heard Kade’s still an ass. Why don’t you punch him already?”

I caught the apple, snorting. “And get my face caved in? No thanks.” I sat back down, rolling the fruit between my palms. “He’s not worth it.”

“Fair.” Milo stretched, arms behind his head. “Saw you nab that coin yesterday—slick move. Got plans?”

I hesitated, eyeing him. Milo was a beta, scrappy and quick, always hovering on the edges of the pack. He’d never ratted me out, but trust was a gamble I didn’t take lightly. Still, he’d brought me food before, talked to me when no one else did. I took a bite of the apple, the tartness waking me up. “Getting out,” I said finally, voice low. “Soon.”

His grin widened. “Smart. I’d join you, but I like breathing.” He tapped his chest, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You really think you’ll make it? Past the alphas, the woods, all of it?”

“I have to,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’m done here.”

He nodded, like that was answer enough, and didn’t push. That’s what I liked about Milo—he didn’t pry too deep.

Morning came too fast. The pack house was quiet, most still sleeping off the hunt, but I had work. Torin had roped me into manning the market stall—selling pelts from last night’s kills. I hauled a sack over my shoulder, the leather rough against my skin, and trudged to the clearing where the traders set up. Stalls lined the dirt path, wolves haggling over meat and furs, their voices a low rumble. I dropped the sack by our spot, spreading the pelts out on a rickety table.

A trader—an old guy with a scar across his nose—ambled over, poking at a deer hide. “Ten coins,” he grunted.

“Fifteen,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “It’s fresh, no tears.”

He squinted at me, then smirked. “Twelve, kid. Take it or I walk.”

“Fine.” I held out my hand, and he dropped the coins in my palm. As he turned away, I slipped one into my pocket before tossing the rest into the pack’s tin. Small wins added up. I was folding the next pelt when a shadow fell over me.

“Thieving now?” Kade’s voice was a sneer. I looked up—he stood there, arms crossed, the coin I’d pocketed dangling between his fingers. He’d snatched it when I wasn’t looking. “Pathetic.”

“Give it back,” I said, stepping around the table. My pulse kicked, but I kept my tone even.

He laughed, flipping the coin in the air. “Make me, scentless.” He turned, strolling off toward his buddies by the meat stall, their chuckles grating in my ears. I started after him, then stopped. Not worth it—not yet. I clenched my jaw and went back to the pelts, the loss stinging. One coin wouldn’t break me, but it was mine.

The market picked up, wolves milling around, their voices louder now. I caught snippets— “Alphas are coming soon,” one said, sharpening a knife. “Zane wants a full report.” Another grumbled, “Leo’s worse—miss a detail, and he’ll skin you.” I kept my head down, stacking furs. The alphas were a storm I’d never seen up close, and I planned to be gone before they rolled in.

By noon, I’d sold most of the pelts, the tin heavier with coins I wouldn’t touch. I was wiping sweat off my brow when Milo sauntered up, hands in his pockets. “Kade again?” he asked, nodding at the bruise blooming on my arm from yesterday’s fall.

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing it. “He’s got a talent for showing up.”

“He’s got a talent for being a dick.” Milo smirked, leaning against the table. “You’re tougher than they think, you know. Ever hear of rogues? Some of us don’t bow.”

I frowned, folding a rabbit pelt. “You’re no rogue.”

“Not yet,” he said, winking. “Just saying—there’s a world out there. You’re not the only one who’s sick of this.” He straightened, clapping my shoulder. “Don’t let Kade get in your head. You’re close, right?”

“Close enough,” I muttered, glancing at the crowd. Milo didn’t know how much I had stashed, but he wasn’t wrong. I was on the edge—just a few more jobs.

He lingered a minute, then drifted off, blending into the market bustle. I finished up, hauling the empty sack back to the pack house as the sun dipped low. My mind churned—rogues, alphas, Kade’s smug face. I’d heard of wolves who broke free, lived wild. Maybe Milo was half-serious. Maybe I’d see him out there someday.

Night fell hard, the compound quiet except for crickets and the occasional howl. I took a late job—cleaning the butcher shed after the hunt’s haul. The air stank of blood and salt, my hands slick as I scrubbed knives. The pay was small, but I didn’t care. I pocketed the coins—two more—and slipped back to my shed, the lantern already lit.

I knelt by the floorboard, prying it up. The stash glittered—twenty-five coins now. Enough. My chest tightened as I pulled out a burlap sack from under the cot, stuffing in a spare shirt, pants, the knife I’d sharpened last week. I added the coins, tying the sack shut. “Tomorrow,” I muttered, voice barely a whisper. “I’m gone.”

The shed creaked, wind rattling the walls. I blew out the lantern, sliding the sack under the cot. My heart thudded, a mix of nerves and something sharp—hope, maybe. I’d slip out at dawn, catch the first bus, and leave this cage behind. No more Kade, no more Torin’s sighs, no more pack. Just me.

I lay back, staring at the dark ceiling, the plan solid in my head. Sleep tugged at me, but my ears strained, catching every sound—the wind, an owl, the faint shuffle of feet. I rolled over, dismissing it. Tomorrow, I’d be free. Nothing was stopping me now.