The Luna on a Chain

“Oh, hell no! I’m not handing my friend over to you fang-faced bastards!” I shouted, spraying the contents of the bottle straight into the man’s face.

At first, he inhaled slowly through his nose with exaggerated composure—but within seconds, he clutched at his throat and dropped to one knee, still gripping his burden.

The men behind him stirred, and without hesitation, I spun around and sprayed them too.

None of them had expected that kind of reaction from an ordinary spray. Of course they hadn’t.

I had been hiding from werewolves for nearly two years now—my defenses were designed specifically for them, not for humans.

The first one was already recovering from the tranquilizer, so I didn’t waste any time. I yanked my friend off his shoulder.

The man snarled, fury blazing in his eyes, and the first ripples of partial transformation spread across his arms.

That wasn’t good.

Dragging my friend a few steps back, I tried to hoist her over my shoulder—but the world suddenly tilted.

A second later, I found myself hanging upside down over a broad, muscular shoulder.

The bottle of precious liquid slipped from my fingers and struck the pavement with a dull, tragic clink.

Clenching my fists, I kicked wildly and hurled every curse I knew.

They shoved me into a black SUV.

Remarkably, not a single person on the street reacted—no one attempted to stop a group of men abducting two women in broad daylight.

Two massive men flanked me in the back seat, boxing me in. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled away.

The man who had forced me inside took the passenger seat beside the driver. I didn’t dare make another sound.

A quick glance around confirmed what I already suspected—werewolves.

Each one of them was large, powerfully built, radiating danger.

“What do you want from us?” I finally managed to ask.

The man in the passenger seat turned around and gave me a slow, deliberate once-over—from head to toe.

For the first time, I could see him clearly: dark eyes framed by thick lashes, a straight nose, full lips faintly flushed, and a shadow of stubble along his jaw.

He looked strikingly similar to the one who had grabbed my friend—but younger.

Brothers, most likely.

He offered a lazy smile and said, “Judging by that mysterious spray you used on my brother, you already know our world exists. Your friend—she’s the true mate of our Alpha.”

Oh, wonderful. Maya had truly hit the jackpot this time. The Alpha himself. She would never be free of him now—not in a hundred years.

Lost in my thoughts, I began mapping out possible escape routes—where we could run, how we could disappear.

The man watched me the entire time.

“So tell me, sweetheart,” he said with a crooked grin, “how exactly do you know about werewolves? You smell human—but not entirely.”

I met his gaze, choosing my words carefully.

“I’ve encountered your kind before,” I replied evenly. “It wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

The glare I gave him didn’t unsettle him in the slightest—if anything, his amusement deepened.

“Why did you take me?” I demanded.

“For company. Once we’re certain you won’t talk, we’ll let you go.”

“And if Maya doesn’t want to stay—will you let her go too?” I asked, masking my tension with feigned innocence.

He chuckled softly. “Didn’t you say you understood our world? How many Alphas do you think allow their mates to walk away?”

“I won’t let you hurt her,” I said firmly, a sharp edge entering my voice.

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Hurt her? No one is going to hurt her. The only danger she faces is too much pleasure. Trust me—Kirill knows exactly how to handle a woman’s body.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I lowered my gaze to my lap and fell silent.

An uneasy silence settled over the car, though it didn’t last long.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked again.

His smug tone grated on my nerves. I had to swallow a cutting reply.

“Vera,” I said curtly, turning to stare out the window.

We left the city behind and entered a suburban district—rows of expensive cottages flashing past in the fading light.

Eventually, the SUV veered into the woods and came to a stop in front of a massive two-story house surrounded by a tall fence.

They locked me in a small guest room and told me to get some sleep.

Every attempt I made to ask about Maya was ignored.

Through the window, I spotted several large werewolves patrolling the grounds.

Escape? Impossible.

There was a shower in the room, so I washed up and lay down on the bed.

Sleep refused to come. Every faint sound made my body jolt.

Sometime after midnight, I rose and crept toward the door.

To my surprise, it wasn’t locked.

I turned the handle carefully and peered into the hallway.

Empty. Silent.

Barefoot, I padded down the corridor. Voices drifted from somewhere ahead.

I stopped, straining to listen. It was them—the werewolves.

“Tell me,” one voice said, “why are you here drinking with me instead of… studying your mate’s body?”

“I didn’t want to frighten her. My story already shocked her enough, so I gave her a sedative. Let her rest.

But you—you’ve created another problem. Why the hell did you bring that second girl here? The guys could’ve buried her in the woods and spared us the hassle.”

My heart sank.

They had truly intended to kill me.

God, how I hated them. Werewolves always played by their own rules, and humans were collateral at best.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my anger down.

Lost in thought, I failed to notice when the voices fell silent.

Then, right beside my ear, a low voice murmured,

“Aren’t good girls supposed to be in bed right now?”

My entire body went rigid. Slowly, I turned—and met glowing yellow eyes in the darkness.

A chill traced its way down my spine.

“Would you like me to walk you back?”

Before I could respond, he seized my arm just above the elbow and escorted me back to the room.

This time, he locked the door behind me.

There was nothing left to do but lie down—and pretend to sleep.