1. Prologue

Prologue

Locke

M y wolf tugs on the chains, his howls echoing in the cell and down the hallway of empty rooms. No one is down here, and even the cameras appear to be turned off tonight. The thunder rolls from the outside. It must be a powerful storm for me to hear it down here.

My wolf's menacing growl resounding as his bared teeth glisten with frothy saliva. The scent of wild determination intensifies as he gathers his powerful muscles, preparing to exert one final forceful tug.

Death would be much better than this. Why won't they let me die in peace?

Part of me knew why, they didn't want the Iron Fang to lose hope. If their president died, what the hell would they do next? Who would step up? Who would have the balls to continue any of what was built?

Grim wasn't the most talkative fucker and any other alpha in the club were small-timers from small packs. They weren't strong enough to handle a group of rowdy rogues or know how to read a room.

Our head violently collides with the cold, unforgiving silver bars. The metallic clang reverberates and the sharp pain pierces through our alpha strength, aching deep within. The warm, sticky sensation of blood slowly trickles down our face, clouding our vision with a crimson haze.

Just let me have peace. I've done enough.

The rogues have a warm place to sleep and solace before they all go rabid, unless, with the blessing of the Goddess, they survive long enough to have a mate. Except for the ones that have kept me alive all this time; forget them. They should have killed me weeks ago, because I can't fucking take another administration of medicine.

That means you Bram, you warlock asshole. It was all your idea and you got everyone to agree. If I could I'd bite your hand off first.

Anyway, it's over, done with. I've become too feral; rabid.

My inner circle throws meat into the cage, sprays water into the trough for me to drink. What do they think they are going to do? Bring random women down here to see if they are my mate? Is Journey gonna go find me a lady friend?

My mate would take one look at me and run, and I wouldn't blame her. My fur and teeth are missing, my claws are long and soaked in the blood that seeps through the pad of my paws. I look like a bloody hellhound, ready to take anything that breathes to the Underworld.

No one is safe around me. They don't even put a guard down here anymore. Another damn mistake!

For Goddess' sake, have I taught them nothing?

A baby's cry pierces our ears, like nails on a chalkboard, and our body rears back just enough to pull the brackets from the cement of the floor. My wolf's elation causes it to howl loudly, shaking the chains from our back and letting the cuffs clink on the floor where they still connect to our bodies.

They should have killed me.

Our body becomes a battering ram. He takes a running leap and hurls our body into the silver bars. They rattle more with each strike of our body, as we leave singed hair and meat on the bars. It doesn't deter my wolf, but I feel the burn as our body tries to recover.

Rabid shifters are unpredictable. They grow stronger as their will to live - to kill with no reason and to survive - multiplies tenfold. With no soul there is no moral meter, and the thoughts of the human inside vanishing completely, now have me rethinking all of that entirely.

Now I'm the passenger; watching as my wolf has complete control of my body, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Hell, what did the other rabid members think when we had to take them down, so they didn't destroy the rest of us?

When the light left their eyes, did they see Grim and me? Did they know we hadn't wanted to do it?

Nausea turns in my gut at the thought of letting them down. I was a fucking failure, just as my father had said all those years ago. I never could make the right decision; never could be the alpha I should have been.

My wolf's haunting howl reverberates through the dimly lit corridor, blending with the sharp sound of its claws scraping against the smooth, cold floor. With a sense of urgency, the wolf taps into my mind, guiding me through the labyrinth of interconnected cells. Its powerful claws relentlessly tear into the pin pad, shattering it into fragments as the metallic wires snap and crackle. The odor of burnt electronics assaults our nose, mingling with the musty scent of confinement.

With a heavy push, the doors open and he gazes around our torture chamber, ready to strike any guards.

There are none. Fucking Idiots!

The baby's cries make him freeze - listening and instantly I know what his body language means. Easy, tender prey!

I panic and grip the imaginary handlebars in my mind. I shake him out of it, trying to steer him to the upstairs, to the door and to our freedom. The woods where he could run and be free; away from the chains, the bars of the cell, the guns and the shifters that are ready to put him down.

He hesitates and I yell at the bastard to run. Then, run he fucking does, leaving a mess in his wake. Shifters scream as we turn over tables, ruin the bar and tumble around the floor. We are like a weakened fawn as I continue to push him to the door. The baby's cries are a distraction, but hell, I will not let Hawke's baby be the first victim.

Get to the forest.

The very few that were left in the bar look on strangely. Pity hangs in their eyes as I glance toward them, but I sling myself out the door, taking half the wall with it.

Why aren't they coming after me? I need to be put down. I would hurt innocent lives. They would all be in danger.

But not a single person steps out of the building. Not one wolf or bear emerges to take me on; to head me off, to kill me.

I knew I was strong, and would be difficult to manage, but it should have never come to this. Never! They knew my wishes - it was an order! They disobeyed a fucking direct order from their alph… president.

I was never their alpha. I was just… a president. My word is like a human's. They could choose to obey it, or not, because I didn't really hold any authority. None. I held no authority over any of their animals. Nor over them.

The woods smell fresh and cool to my wolf as he bursts into the forest, leaving the bloody chaos of the bar behind. His body races with a wild, primal energy that I'm sure he hasn't felt in years. Each breath carries the promise of freedom and a chance at redemption.

But little does he know it isn't coming. Nothing is coming. This is the beginning of the end for the both of us.

With every step deeper into the trees, the nauseating guilt and self-loathing gnaw at me. The memories of my failure hang heavy, like a net trapping me and reminding me that I'm not a wolf running free; that I have gained my animal again and I will soon be human once more.

None of that will happen.

I was once a leader, a president responsible for the safety and well-being of a band of rogues that had nowhere to go. This is how they repaid me. To let me suffer. Was I ever really a leader to them? Or was I just the fucking scapegoat the whole time? I just was here to watch everyone suffer and let my guilt eat me away because I couldn't do a fucking thing about it. They wanted me alive to watch it all go to shit.

My wolf's paws hit the soft earth and he feels the discomfort of his deteriorating body; the hair loss, the uncontrollable hunger and the gnawing loneliness.

Finally, my wolf is seeing that not all is fucking sunshine and roses.

My wolf howls a mournful cry, a mixture of pain and loss echoing through the forest. He will now have to accept the truth that he is alone. We can never connect; to speak to one another.

He will only know me as… a feeling.

As we continue deeper into the forest, we see a doe and its fawn. My wolf's hunger surges at the sight, and he watches them as they graze, taking in their every movement.

I groan, not wanting to watch. I have hunted many times in my life, but I always spared the fawn. At a young age, all shifters were taught to spare the young so they could grow and bring new offspring, but I know immediately what my wolf is going to do. And I'm not going to like it.

My wolf snarls as his sorrow has gone and hunger has taken over. Primal animal instincts rise above the training we had done together over the years. He is a rabid alpha. He is truly an animal, one that I no longer recognize as part of my soul.

The doe senses it as well, and suddenly realizes its danger. It turns to bolt, but the fawn is slower.

My wolf lunges at it, tearing its throat out in a single swipe. It is brutally efficient, leaving behind a mess of gore and broken bones. Its cry for help is short-lived, being silenced by the vicious beast that had once been me.

But, as I watch the fawn take its last breath, I realize I have lost more than my wolf. I have lost myself. I'm not a leader, a president or anything else. All of that is gone. All that remains is the animal.