Chapter 7

7

T he next morning, I wake up with that same uneasy feeling from the day before, along with the added bonus of a nasty headache that feels as if someone's pounding their fists against the inside of my skull, trying to split it open and crawl out. Which is why ten minutes later, I'm tipping a healthy pour of Jameson into my coffee from my perch on a barstool at the kitchen island.

Yeah, I told my dad I'd dry out, but… baby steps. At least I'm having coffee with my morning whiskey today.

Recapping the bottle, I set it aside, lifting the steaming mug to my lips as I bring my focus back to the screen of my laptop resting on the granite counter in front of me. I've got the video feed of the basement pulled up and the Luna's awake, pacing the length of her cell while undoubtedly searching for a way out. She won't find one, but it's free entertainment to sit back and watch her try.

I wonder what's going on in that pretty head of hers right now. Pity I can't crack it open to find out.

Even though I'm fully aware that my behavior is already starting to border on obsession, I can't help myself. I tend to jump into new projects with both feet when I'm trying to distract my mind from something else. It's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it is what it is. All the anger and grief I've been carrying over the last two weeks since losing Ben is now being funneled into this new task of mine as the Luna's handler.

I slowly sip my spiked coffee as I watch her on the video feed. She paces toward the window, then turns around to face the camera again, her shoulders drooping as she exhales a sigh and leans back against the wall. She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing at her biceps.

Is she cold?

I reach up to twist my hat backwards on my head so I can lean in even closer to the screen, my eyes flickering up to the top right corner. The temperature reading estimates that her cell is a comfortable seventy degrees. The Guild's research has demonstrated that werewolves can tolerate much cooler temperatures than humans, but here I am again, forgetting which this girl is.

The problem is that she just looks so damn unassuming. If we crossed paths in some other place, I'd be struck by her beauty, but I'd never guess that a soulless killer was lurking beneath that stunning fa?ade.

She doesn't look the part of a monster.

I suppose that doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, though. Both pretty birds and feral beasts need to be caged- either to protect them from the world, or to protect the world from them. She's exactly where she belongs, and try as she might, there's no chance for escape. Not on my watch.

Footsteps sound behind me, but I don't look up from the video feed as I continue sipping my coffee. A couple of Guild foot soldiers pass by me as they enter the kitchen- first Cody Adams, then Kyle Griffin- but the latter rocks back a step, doing a double take.

"Holy shit, is that her?" he chokes, staring wide-eyed at my laptop screen.

I lift my gaze just in time to see Adams stop in his tracks, turning back around to blink curiously in my direction. "Who?"

"The Luna," Griff replies as he moves in closer to get a better look at the video from over my shoulder. "Get over here, bro, you've gotta see this…"

I grind my molars in irritation as Adams rushes to investigate, crowding in over my opposite shoulder to peer at my computer screen. On it, my captive is now pushing off from the wall, the hem of her shirt lifting to reveal even more of her slim, tanned stomach as she stretches her arms over her head.

"Damn, she's hot as fuck," Adams comments, snickering a laugh as he claps a hand down on my shoulder. "I can see why you wanted to take point on this one, dude."

"You gonna fuck the information out of her, Knox?" Griff chortles, flicking the brim of my backwards baseball cap teasingly like we're buddies or something.

I swat his hand away in annoyance, snapping my laptop closed. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not into bestiality," I mutter, sliding my stool back from the counter.

"Well hey, if you want any help with interrogating that one, I've got a few ideas," Adams muses, stroking his goatee with a smirk.

"Don't you two have somewhere to be?" I grumble as I rise to my feet. Sliding my laptop off the counter, I tuck it under my arm and pick up my coffee cup, then turn to give the two of them a pointed look. "Last I checked, Delta team was doing formation exercises this morning."

They stare at me like a pair of deer caught in the headlights, which is a welcomed change from the cringeworthy frat boy impersonation I just witnessed. Shouldering past them, I head toward my room, leaving them to sweat over whether they'll be in trouble later for fucking around instead of reporting for duty on time. Fucking useless, both of them.

Once we wrap up this current mission, my dad and I seriously need to re-assess our plans for the future of The Guild. I can't stomach dealing with guys like Adams and Griffin long term; not without Ben as a buffer. He had a knack for assigning random tasks as busy work to keep idiots like them out of my way.

Maybe Matty would be up for the job. We still haven't filled Ben's vacancy in any official capacity, and what better way for the kid to prove he's deserving of a promotion than to assume the responsibilities of the prospective position? I make a mental note to suggest it to my dad as I enter the cavernous darkness of my room, heading straight for the desk to drop my laptop off and finishing the rest of my coffee. The whiskey is most potent in the last couple sips, burning its path down my throat and settling warmly in my belly.

As I swivel back around, my eyes catch on Ben's side of the room, that familiar tightness clawing at my chest as I stare blankly at the bed he'll never sleep in again. That empty bed reinforces why I'm doing this; why I have to keep my head in the game.

For Ben.

This isn't just about werewolves anymore, it's about my own personal mission to avenge my best friend's murder. There's no room for failure.

By the time I make it back to the kitchen, Griff and Adams have already cleared out- hopefully to join their team for training drills- and I find Matty there instead, standing at the kitchen island arranging a stack of crackers on a plastic tray.

"Hey," he greets as I enter, his eager blue eyes meeting mine as he reaches up to ruffle the chestnut strands of his hair. "I heard you were dealing with our hostage, but I figured I could lend a hand by prepping her meals, if you want?"

Once again, I'm impressed by this kid's initiative. Keeping my expression neutral, I give him a tight nod. "That'd be appreciated, thanks," I respond.

I mean, it's obvious that he's just trying to kiss my ass at this point, but it's also working. I glance down at the meager rations on the tray, my jaw ticking over.

"Since we'll have this one for longer, we might wanna consider giving her a little more to eat," I murmur. "Keep her better hydrated, too."

"Yeah, for sure," Matty agrees, throwing a thumb over his shoulder and backing toward the fridge. "I could make a sandwich or something real fast, if you give me a few minutes?"

I shake my head and lift the tray from the counter. "Nah, this is fine for now. We can give her something more substantial for dinner."

Matty nods in understanding as I turn away and start for the basement, slipping my cold, detached hunter mask into place before keying in the door code to head down. I need to stay on mission here; remember what my objective is. This is all just a means to an end.

Grabbing the keys to the holding cells off the hook inside the basement door- because I resisted the urge to pocket them last time I left- I flick on the light switch at the top of the dim stairwell, illuminating my path down. The Luna's cell comes into view when I hit the bottom step, and I find her standing in the center of it waiting for me- arms folded across her chest, hip cocked, and angry scowl firmly in place.

"How's my little beastie this morning?" I ask with fake enthusiasm, approaching the bars to her cell with the tray and keys in hand.

Her scowl deepens and she makes a growling sound in her throat.

My lips curve in a smile. Clearly, that nickname strikes a nerve, so I'll be sure to use it a lot more often from here on out.

"Go put your nose against the wall," I instruct in a monotone, flicking my head toward the rear of her cell.

"Fuck you," she snarls.

"Feisty this morning, huh?" I muse, leveling her with a harsh stare. I hate repeating myself, but this girl seems determined to push back at every opportunity. "Nose against the wall, or I won't be opening the door to give you this," I say, holding eye contact while wiggling the tray back and forth tauntingly. "Your call."

She glares back at me for a solid minute, her big brown eyes blazing with defiance. Even when she finally gives in, heaving a furious sigh and spinning around to stomp toward the back of the cell, she's still radiating ferocity. Most prisoners show signs of wearing down after the first 24 hours, but not this one. She's going to be a challenge to break.

A ripple of excitement runs through me at the thought of it.

The Luna stomps toward the back of the cell angrily, stopping short in front of the wall. "Happy?" she huffs.

"No," I reply flatly. "Nose against the wall, beastie."

Her fists clench at her sides, muscles bunching up with tension as she seemingly grapples with whether to comply. She's clearly stubborn as fuck, but she'd be foolish to let it get the best of her when food and water's on the line. She must recognize that and decide to choose her battles, because she slowly leans in closer to the wall until the tip of her nose is almost touching the concrete, her posture stiff with defiance.

Good enough.

I could be a prick and force her to close the distance, but I'm choosing my battles here, too. I also need to move this the fuck along because now that her back's to me, I can't stop staring at her perfectly round ass. Slipping the key into the lock, I turn it over with an audible click, pushing the door open halfway and stooping to set the tray on the floor. I wait a beat before closing it up again and re-locking it, tempting her with a false opportunity for escape. Testing her impulse control.

She spins back around to face me, her expression murderous, but she doesn't take the bait. She remains rooted to the spot she's standing in at the rear of her cell, glaring daggers at me as if looks could actually kill.

Good thing they can't, or I'd be joining Ben in hell sooner than I'd hoped.

I smile back at her tauntingly as I swing the door closed in front of me and twist the key in the lock, pocketing it. "The concrete walls are eight inches thick," I provide, glancing around the interior of the cell. "And these bars?" I grab onto one, giving it a hard tug in demonstration. "Reinforced steel." Meeting her gaze again, I toss my opposite thumb over my shoulder toward the stairwell. "One way in and out, and it's coded, so stop trying to look for a way to escape. You won't find one. Instead, maybe you should focus on what information you're going to give me in exchange for letting you live another day."

I take a step backwards, folding my arms over my chest. "But first, you should eat."

The Luna's gaze flickers down to the tray on the floor, her expression twisting in disgust. Judging by the way she gobbled down the crackers last night, I'm guessing her distaste has little to do with the food itself and more to do with accepting anything I offer her.

"Or don't," I add with a shrug. "You can just wither away down here for all I care. Not the fastest death, but still efficient."

I turn to leave, intending to let her chew on that threat while I observe her from the video feed, but the sound of her bare feet padding against the concrete makes me pause to glance back.

Our eyes meet as she approaches the bars of her cage, wrapping her thin fingers around them and peering out at me. " Why are you doing this?" she demands, a ragged edge of desperation in her voice. Her whiskey-brown eyes are wide and pleading, but if she thinks she can appeal to my sense of morality, her efforts are sorely misplaced.

My throat tightens uncomfortably, my headache intensifying. "Because you're a monster," I rasp, my hard expression unyielding.

She narrows her eyes on me with a scowl, dropping any pretense of wide-eyed innocence.

There's my beastie .

"Where's Tommy?" she spits, the skin of her knuckles whitening as she grips the bars harder.

"Worry less about him and more about yourself," I mutter in a bored tone. "Unless you've got some information to give up, your days are numbered, Luna."

The two of us stand there for a long moment, locked in a staring contest that neither is willing to back down from. Not even when the door at the top of the stairs beeps with the disengaging of the lock, swinging open with an audible creak.

"Cam, you down there?" my dad's voice calls out.

"Coming!" I yell back, my eyes still firmly glued to my captive. I don't even blink as I drop my voice low, delivering one last parting jab. "I'll be back later, be a good little beastie while I'm gone."

She snaps her teeth at me in response, a victorious smirk curling my lips as I turn to head upstairs.

Yeah, this one's going to be tough to break. But damnit if I won't have fun making this bitch come to heel.