Chapter 2
The fight was over, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. Not from fear—at least not only that—but from exhaustion, cold, and the pain that never truly went away. Blood soaked my fur. Hers and mine. The wound on my side throbbed, but I couldn’t even whimper. Showing weakness meant trouble.
Butch yanked on the chain again. “Move.”
I stood, barely, and followed him as he dragged me back toward the holding pens. The other men kept laughing and counting their winnings, some of them casting glances my way like I was a monster in a cage. I guess I was. That’s what they’d made me into.
Back at the pens, Butch locked my collar to a new stake, even shorter than before. I could barely move an inch without choking myself. The metal bit into my neck, hot and sharp. My legs gave out and I collapsed onto the frozen ground, letting my head fall between my paws.
“Sleep well, mutt,” he muttered, then walked off.
I didn’t sleep.
My body ached in places I didn’t even know could hurt. My thoughts refused to go quiet. That brown wolf… I didn’t even know her name. Didn’t know where she came from or who she left behind. All I knew was that now she was gone, and I was still here. Again.
Sometimes I wondered why I was still alive. Why they hadn’t killed me yet. I’d seen stronger wolves go down. Some who begged for death. But not me. I never begged. Maybe that was why they kept me.
Or maybe they were waiting for someone to come for me.
That thought stung more than the wounds.
Once, a long time ago, I’d believed someone would. I’d believed he would.
He promised me he would.
But he never came.
And after enough time, I stopped waiting.
The sky grew dark and the cold got worse. My fur wasn’t thick enough anymore to shield me. I curled into myself, bones rattling beneath my skin, stomach growling for food that would never come.
That night, a new group of prisoners arrived. I could hear the rumble of a truck, metal doors creaking open, the faint sound of frightened growls and whimpers. More wolves being dumped into hell. More lives to gamble on.
One of the guards came over, grinning. “Got a fresh batch. Looks like we’ve got some pretty ones this time.”
Pretty. That word felt like poison now.
The next morning, I saw them. Four of them. Three males and one female, all barely able to stand. The female stood out—small, silver-furred, and trembling. Her eyes darted around, terrified but defiant. That was always how it started.
The fire in their eyes.
The quiet hope that maybe they’d survive.
Give it time. This place broke everyone.
Later that day, they came for me again. Another fight. No time to rest. No time to heal.
But this time, it felt different.
As I walked toward the arena, something in the air changed. The wind carried a strange scent—familiar, but buried beneath years of pain. My head snapped up, sniffing instinctively.
No. It couldn’t be.
Not here. Not after all this time.
I stood in the arena, heart racing. The men were loud, already shouting bets, forming their circle.
And then the other fighter was dragged in.
He was taller, broader, and looked stronger than anyone they’d thrown at me before. His fur was jet black, thick and sleek. He didn’t cower or stumble.
He looked right at me.
And I froze.
Because I knew those eyes.
I’d stared into them a thousand times before. In dreams. In memories. In promises whispered under moonlight.
My legs nearly gave out.
It was him.
He was back.
But he didn’t look like the boy I remembered.
He looked like a beast who’d clawed his way through hell just to get here.
And I didn’t know if he came to save me… or destroy me.