Chapter 2

Mateo

The moon cast an eerie silver light through the small window of our cell, rousing me from my fitful sleep. I groaned slightly. I didn"t want to wake up. Waking up in the middle of the night always sucked.

I shifted on the narrow bed, my body tense and my mind alert. This bed was horrible. This prison should be closed just because of that. This was no way for someone to sleep.

Something had disturbed my slumber, a sound that didn"t belong in the quiet of the night. I had been living here for a long time, so I was used to quietness. I was used to not having a cellmate.

I turned my head, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, and saw Rylan tossing and turning on his bed, his face contorted in distress. The omega was having a nightmare.

I sighed inwardly, a mix of annoyance and something akin to pity stirring within me. I hated showing weakness, and Rylan was the epitome of weakness.

Everything about him showed his weakness. He couldn"t help it. He was completely out of his element.

But there he was, huddled under the thin blanket, his breath coming in short gasps as he dreamed of whatever horrors haunted him. I couldn"t help but feel a slight twinge of sympathy for the kid. He was new to this place, and the weight of his sentence was no doubt crushing him.

But I didn"t feel a lot of pity for him. It really was only a little. Because he was a Nightfang, he did a lot of bad things. Everybody here hated him. Thanks to the way he was, I didn"t think he was going to survive here for much longer.

I sat up, the metal frame of the bed creaking in protest. The moonlight illuminated the cell, casting shadows that danced across the walls, adding to the atmosphere.

Never again in my life would complain about my previous accommodations. They were so much better than what I had here.

I ran a hand through my hair, the stubble on my scalp a constant reminder of my captivity. The prison was no place for sentiment, and yet here I was, contemplating checking on my cellmate.

What was causing this feeling? His family was shit, and it was likely he wasn"t any different. Like father, like son—they say the apple doesn"t fall far from the tree. And, in my experience, that was usually true.

With a huff, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, my bare feet padding softly against the cold concrete floor. I hoped I wasn"t going to regret this.

I crossed the small space between our beds and shook Rylan"s shoulder. He was warm — warmer than he should be. Did he have a fever? This was making me think he had.

"Hey, kid. Wake up." My voice was rough, my usual gravelly tone softened slightly by the hour. He was much younger than me and I could tell that just by looking at him, so I couldn"t help but call him a kid sometimes.

Rylan jolted awake, his eyes wide and fearful as he took in his surroundings. He was suffering in his nightmare and now he was afraid of me. I could see it in his eyes.

For a moment, he looked confused, disoriented, before recognition dawned, and he seemed to remember where he was. I imagined that, for a moment, he thought he wasn"t in this prison anymore.

"W-what?" He stammered.

"You were having a nightmare," I said, my tone matter-of-fact. "You wanna tell me what it was about?" I asked, though I knew he wouldn"t — or couldn"t — answer. I didn"t think he was going to feel comfortable telling me about it. He was the kind of person who kept his feelings and thoughts to himself. That was something we had in common.

Rylan averted his gaze, his eyes darting around the cell as if searching for an escape. He knew there was none, but he still couldn"t help but wish it was different. If there was an escape, I would have already used it.

"I-I don"t remember," he lied, his voice shaking. I could smell the fear rolling off him, his heart racing as he tried to collect himself. He was also sweaty. Whatever his nightmare was about, it was probably one of the nastiest he had in a long while.

I narrowed my eyes, studying him. "You sure about that?" I prodded, knowing full well he was lying. Sometimes, people forgot about their nightmares or dreams as soon as they woke up, but in his case, I didn"t think that happened.

I could sense the truth in the way his scent changed, the way his eyes flickered with a mix of emotions: fear, shame, and something else I couldn"t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was anxiety.

Instead of answering, Rylan turned away, pulling the blanket up to his chin as if it could shield him from the world, or as if it could make me disappear. I was still right here, though.

I saw his shoulders shake, and I realized he was silently crying, his body racked with quiet sobs. Damn, the kid was a mess. He was going through a lot, but weren"t we all? He wasn"t as special as he thought he was.

I huffed again and turned away, returning to my bed. "Forget it," I muttered. "Go back to sleep." I didn"t have the energy or the inclination to deal with his tears. Prison was no place for softness, and I had my own demons to battle.

My plate was full. I couldn"t and didn"t want to worry about what other people were feeling. Whatever was tormenting him, he could deal with it by himself.

I lay back down, my back to Rylan, and pulled my own blanket up. I didn"t even want to remember he was my cellmate. Maybe this was also a nightmare and, tomorrow morning, I was going to wake up with him nowhere in sight.

The moonlight still cast long shadows on the wall, and I found myself staring at them, my mind wandering to my own past, to the nightmares that haunted me. I pushed the thoughts away; there was no room for weakness, not here, not now.

To be honest, there was never any space for weakness. The moment I showed any sort of fragility was the moment I knew I would die.

The silence stretched between us, the only sound being Rylan"s quiet sniffles as he tried to stifle his tears. What a pathetic little cunt he was. He couldn"t even cry without making noises.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to take me back, to offer me a temporary escape from this hell. Still, it wasn"t going to be easy. Sometimes, sleeping was difficult.

In the darkness, my mind wandered despite my efforts to keep it at bay. I thought of my own arrival at Blackrock, the fear and anger that had consumed me. I"d been a young wolf then, full of fire and ready to take on the world. I had already spent too much time here. When would I get out? I didn"t know.

This place had a way of breaking you, of stripping away your dignity and your sense of self. Not that I had any, to be honest. When I came here, I was already on the path to becoming the person I was.

A soft sniffle pulled me from my thoughts, and I glanced over my shoulder at Rylan. He lay curled up, his back to me, his body still shaking with the aftermath of his tears. I felt a pang of something in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation that I quickly dismissed.

It couldn"t be anything. Maybe, before all this, I could feel pity for other people, but after realizing it didn"t help me and it actually only jeopardized me, I got rid of it.

With a grunt, I rolled over, turning my back to him once more. "Get some sleep, kid," I grunted. "Tomorrow"s another day in this hellhole."

And I wasn"t going to say that again. He better do it as, otherwise, he would hate even more how weak he was.

The silence that followed was heavy. He finally stopped crying so much. The truth was, I couldn"t sleep as long as he was making so much noise.

I knew Rylan was still awake, his mind likely racing with thoughts of his own. But we both knew better than to speak of such things. In a place like Blackrock, you kept your head down, your secrets close, and your emotions in check.

If he didn"t know that yet, he soon would.

Eventually, the steady rhythm of Rylan"s breathing told me he had fallen back asleep. I chuckled slightly. Despite being so hurt, he managed to fall asleep. In the meantime, here I was, still mostly awake.

I lay there, listening to the sound, my eyes fixed on the shadows dancing across the walls. It had rained recently, leaving puddles on the ground behind the walls. That was the reason why there were so many dancing shadows tonight.

Tomorrow was another day, another battle to be fought. But for now, in the quiet of the night, I was just trying to sleep. Otherwise, tomorrow morning, if I was sleep-deprived, I wouldn"t function well at all.

As I drifted off, my mind lingered on Rylan"s fragile form, his silent tears a stark contrast to the harsh world we inhabited.

As much as I didn"t want to admit it, part of me wanted to protect him, even though it didn"t make sense. Why would I protect a Nightfang, anyway?