Chapter 22

22

I wouldn't exactly say I've gotten comfortable in my captivity, but I've been sleeping deeper at night. The full moon is right around the corner, and an odd sense of calm has come over me with the conviction that in a matter of days, I'll either escape from this prison or die trying. I'll never have to look at these four ugly concrete walls ever again, never have to sleep on this uncomfortable cot or take in the world through that tiny barred window. Either way the pendulum swings, I'll finally be free.

Okay, the deep sleep I fall into might also have something to do with the way Cam railed me against the wall earlier. What can I say? Earth-shattering orgasms have a way of taking it out of a girl. The whole getting on my knees to swipe the keys thing didn't work out quite as planned, but at least I got something out of it in the end. And I didn't exactly hate blowing Cam. He's got a great dick, worthy of worship. It's just too bad it's attached to my mortal enemy.

The coma he fucked me into is rudely disrupted by the metallic sound of keys jingling, and I snap awake when I hear the hushed whispers of voices outside my cell. Voices, plural . Neither of which has that familiar low, raspy quality that my warden's carries.

My pulse skyrockets and I jolt upright, blinking through the darkness in the direction of the cell door. My wolf still isn't at full strength, but the wolfsbane has cleared my system enough that my enhanced shifter vision has returned. It allows me to see a hell of a lot better than the average human can in the dark, and what I do see makes my blood run cold.

Two men are standing outside my cell, one of whom I recognize as the guy who grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm through the bars. At the time, his threat to do worse was all false bravado, given the locked door between us. Now, with the keys in his hand, it seems he's intent to deliver on that promise. He's fumbling to unlock the door while the stranger beside him looks on nervously, whispering for him to quiet down so he doesn't wake me.

Too late, assholes.

"What do you want?" I demand loudly, and they simultaneously snap their heads up to peer in my direction, right as the door lock turns over with a heavy click.

The dickhead who attacked me- Griff, I think Cam called him- pushes it open, stepping over the threshold into my cell. "Didn't I tell you I'd be back?" he asks mockingly.

"Get out," I snap, not in the mood to deal with whatever fuckery these two idiots are up to.

"She's a mouthy one, huh?" the second guy comments, chuckling to himself as he steps in behind Griff and gives me a leering once-over. "You'd think Knox's pet would be better trained."

"Especially after all the time he's spent down here," Griff agrees, scrunching up his nose in disgust as he eyes me from across the cell. "Maybe he's losing his edge."

He advances another step, and when the moonlight hits the planes of his mangled face, I suck in a quiet gasp of surprise. Mottled green and yellow bruising covers almost every inch of his ugly mug, and the bridge of his nose is bent at an awkward angle. Ouch . Guess when Cam said he ‘took care of' the guy who threatened me, that meant he beat the dude's face in.

Not gonna lie, it's a little bit shocking to see that he roughed up his colleague for messing with me , the girl he's labeled as a monster. And also kind of endearing? Definitely confusing.

"Get out ," I repeat, scowling at the pair of hunters slowly creeping further into my cell.

"Only after we get what we came for," Griff sneers as he moves toward me. His buddy follows close behind, mumbling something to Griff that sounds a whole lot like ‘I'll hold her down'.

Oh HELL no.

I swing my legs over the edge of the cot and push up to my feet, aiming to make a break for it, but I'm at a severe disadvantage with there being two of them and one of me. They simultaneously lunge in my direction, wrestling me back onto the cot while I scream my head off, kicking and punching and trying to fight them away. If there weren't two of them, it'd be easy for me to get the upper hand- but each time I manage to land a blow on one, the other is right there. With my wolf still partially out of commission, it isn't a fair fight.

"This'll show Knox that he's not as untouchable as he thinks he is, eh?" Griff muses as he positions himself on top of me, pinning down the lower half of my body while his friend restrains my arms by twisting them painfully over my head.

Terror floods my veins, my throat tightening until I can hardly breathe. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what their next move will be, and I'd rather die than get raped by these psychopaths. I scream out in rage, in terror, in pain from the way Griff's knees are digging into my upper thighs. I thrash harder when he starts tearing at my clothes, shredding the fabric and groping my body .

"No!" I yell, voice cracking as panic swells in my chest. Then he unbuttons his pants and lowers his zipper, and that's when I really fucking lose it. I can't breathe, can't think- I'm drowning in my own panic, and even though my wolf isn't strong enough for a shift, she starts clawing at the inside of my chest, trying her damndest to break through to save me.

"The fuck is wrong with her eyes?" Griff grumbles as he reaches into his boxers.

My wolf strains to get free while I gasp for air, throat constricting as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, shoving them apart.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears as my vision starts to blacken.

Then suddenly, the weight on top of me is gone. It happens so fast that I can barely register what's happening, but Cam's in the cell, and he's ripped both men off of me and flung them to the floor like ragdolls. I sit up and scurry to the corner of my cot, curling in on myself while Cam brandishes a handgun and stands over my assailants like the grim reaper come to collect a debt. Without even blinking, he pops off two shots in quick succession and they light up the cell like twin lightning strikes, my ears ringing from the reverb. Then... silence .

"Fuck," Cam mutters under his breath, staring at the lifeless bodies on the floor as he shoves the pistol back into the waistband of his jeans. "I didn't… they shouldn't have…" his incoherent mumbling trails off as he slowly turns his head to look at me, gaze dropping to take in the tattered shreds of clothing hanging off my body before lifting to meet mine. "Are you okay?" he rasps, taking a step toward me. "Did they…?"

I flinch back on instinct and he freezes in his tracks, eyes rounding in concern. It's a look I've never seen on him, and it punches me right in the gut.

"I'm fine," I grit out, hugging my knees tighter to my chest.

I'm definitely not fine, but those are the only words I can seem to muster. I mean, I was just attacked, almost raped, then witnessed a double murder. My brain's not exactly functioning on all cylinders here.

Cam swings his gaze back toward the bodies on the floor, glaring down at the corpses of his comrades like he wishes he could kill them all over again. Sorta sweet, sorta psycho, but who am I to judge when the guy just saved me from being sexually assaulted? He's no hero by any stretch of the imagination, but if he hadn't shown up when he did… I don't even want to think about what would've happened.

"Fuck," he growls again, scrubbing a hand down his face. Then he steps closer to the bodies and leans over, threading his arms underneath Griff's lifeless ones and hauling him up to drag his corpse across the cell and out the door.

I don't know where he takes it. I just sit there frozen, staring at the tops of my knees while he removes the dead bodies of my attackers, then returns with a mop and a bucket. The smell of bleach assaults my nostrils as he begins methodically cleaning the blood off the floor of my cell, and even though the door's still standing open, I don't make any move to run. The two men Cam just killed only prove that the monsters lurking beyond the basement door are far worse than the ones down here.

My panic starts to ebb, but my mind won't stop spinning. Cam executed both of those men without batting an eye. He clearly has violent tendencies, but he's never aimed them toward me. Not yet at least.

Has my honey trap been so effective that he'll take out his own people in my defense? Or has he been playing me all along, working his own angle to endear me to him?

Will I be on the other end of his next bullet?

He carries the mop and bucket out of the cell once he's done cleaning the blood off the floor, and I finally climb up from the cot to stand on shaky legs. Slowly, I tiptoe over to the open doorway, pausing in the threshold to peer out into the hall.

Cam emerges from the darkness at the far end, his eyes blazing with intensity when they meet mine. Marching determinedly in my direction, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head, the defined muscles of his bare chest rippling as he stalks closer. The myriad of monochromatic tattoos almost look like they're dancing on his bronze skin, and I'm momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him shirtless.

He stops short in front of me, silently extending an arm and holding the shirt out in offering. I eye him warily as I reach out to take it, then back away, quickly discarding the remains of my old shirt to slip his on instead. It's way too big, the hem brushing my mid-thigh. Still, it's amazing how much better it makes me feel to be wearing something that actually covers me up. I've never had a problem with nudity, but after that attack, I feel disgustingly exposed.

Cam stands outside the cell door like a statue, staring at me as I sweep my hair out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, the muscle in his jaw ticking. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine," I blurt, cutting him off.

He snaps his mouth closed and gives me a single nod, reaching into the cell to grip the bars of the door and swing it closed. I flinch at the metallic clang, watching as he turns the key that's still dangling from the lock before pulling it out and slipping it into his pocket. Then he turns around, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he sidesteps and sinks down to sit on the floor outside my cell, resting his bare back against the bars with a heavy sigh.

I just stand there in stunned silence, wringing my hands in front of me while my brain works overtime to reconcile the two sides of Cam I've come to know. The cold, detached hunter who has threatened my family and is keeping me locked up, versus the man who talked me down from a panic attack in the shower; the one who just killed two others to spare me from their assault.

Which one's the real him?

Maybe both. I suppose it doesn't really matter either way, since he's on that side of the bars and I'm on this one. Whichever man he is, we're still fundamentally at odds with one another.

"I'm surprised you didn't join them," I mutter bitterly, glaring at the back of his head.

He makes a scoffing sound in his throat. "I'm not a fucking rapist," he grumbles.

"Just a warden, then?"

He doesn't respond. Another heavy silence settles between us, but it lacks the tension of the first. It's almost… peaceful . The calm after the storm.

I turn to glance toward the cot, but I can't bring myself to walk over there and climb on. Not after what just happened. So instead, I find myself drifting over to the bars of the cell, turning around to lean my back against them and sliding down to the floor.

My own spot isn't far from Cam's. I can see his profile in my peripheral vision, but neither of us turn our heads to look at one another or say a word. We just sit there quietly for a long time, until exhaustion starts to set in and my eyelids grow heavy.

"I told you I'm fine," I mumble, wondering why he's still choosing to hang around. Surely he's got a comfy bed upstairs to crawl into. He's not a prisoner here.

"I know," he rasps, hanging his head between his knees.

I dart him a sideways glance, chewing on my lower lip anxiously. "Then why are you still here?"

"I just am," he replies quietly.

I turn my head to look at him through the gap in the bars, and his own turns in response, our gazes colliding.

"Go," I whisper .

"No."

I heave a sigh, turning away again and tipping my head back to stare up at the ceiling. The sting of tears prickles behind my eyes, my lower lip trembling as the events of the night replay in my mind.

"I'm sorry, Luna," Cam murmurs.

"It's Avery," I breathe, squeezing my eyes closed to force the tears back.

"What?"

"My name is Avery."