Chapter 5
Freya's POV
The Silver Shackle Prison lived up to its name. They dragged me through steel corridors lit by harsh fluorescent lights that made my sensitive eyes ache. The walls were lined with moon-silver alloy—just enough to make any wolf's skin crawl without completely incapacitating us. As a convicted criminal awaiting transport to the Forgotten Wilds, I received special treatment.
"Processing room three," barked the head guard, shoving me forward. My restraints cut into my wrists as I stumbled. "Got a Beta Elite for you. Tried to claw up another Beta. Disrespected Alpha Thorne in open court."
The processing officer—a stern-faced female with close-cropped hair—looked me over with cold eyes. "Strip her. Full decontamination before fitting."
The guards cut away my clothes with silver-edged scissors, the blades occasionally "slipping" to nick my skin. Each small cut burned as if touched by fire. My cheeks burned with humiliation as they hosed me down with icy water laced with a chemical that stripped away not just dirt but also my natural scent—a deep violation for any wolf.
"Fitting room now," the female officer ordered once I stood shivering and naked before them.
They marched me, still dripping, into a sterile white room. At its center sat what looked like a medical chair with restraints. On a tray beside it lay the device I'd been dreading—a collar of pure moon-silver, thicker than my thumb and engraved with runes that would bind my wolf deep inside me.
"Sit," ordered the officer.
When I hesitated, a guard kicked the back of my knees, sending me crashing into the chair. Metal restraints automatically closed around my limbs.
"You should feel honored," said the officer as she lifted the collar. "Most prisoners get the standard thin bands. This one's special—designed for dangerous wolves. Custom ordered by Alpha Thorne himself."
I couldn't tell if she was lying to torment me or telling the truth. Had Thorne really specified my punishment in such detail? The thought hurt worse than the silver.
"Now, this will hurt," she continued, almost conversationally. "How much depends on how strong your connection to your wolf is. Strong wolves sometimes pass out. Some even lose their minds."
The moment the collar touched my skin, agony blazed through me. My wolf howled in terror as the silver burned not just my flesh but seemed to sear into my very soul. The connection that had been with me since puberty—the comforting presence of my other half—began to dim, like someone was slowly strangling her.
I screamed until my throat was raw, thrashing against the restraints as they locked the collar into place. The officer watched dispassionately, making notes on a tablet as if recording a mildly interesting experiment.
"Strong connection," she murmured. "Still conscious though. Interesting."
When they finally released me from the chair, I collapsed to the floor, my hands flying to the collar that now encircled my neck. It felt impossibly heavy, burning constantly against my skin. Worse was the muffled whimpering of my wolf, now trapped behind a silver wall I couldn't breach.
They tossed a gray prison jumpsuit at me. "Get dressed," the guard ordered. "You're going to holding before transport tomorrow."
The holding cell was crowded with other wolves awaiting processing or transport—mostly Omegas sentenced for minor crimes. I huddled in a corner, trying to become invisible, but the acrid smell of silver and chemicals couldn't hide what I was.
"Hey," a rough voice called from across the cell. "That's a custom collar. What'd you do, kill a pup?"
I didn't answer, keeping my eyes down. Another wolf approached, sniffing the air.
"She doesn't smell right," he growled. "Hey, everyone, we got ourselves a Beta Elite slumming with us commoners."
The atmosphere in the cell shifted immediately. I could feel hostile eyes turning toward me, resentment filling the air. A pack mentality was forming—but not the protective kind. This was the dangerous side of wolf nature, the instinct to pull down the wounded or the outsider.
"One of the guards mentioned she disrespected Alpha Thorne in court," someone else added. The hostile murmurs grew louder.
A burly male with patchy fur pushed through the others, already in a half-shift state despite the suppression bracelets they all wore. Unlike my collar, their thin bands allowed partial shifting.
"You insulted our Alpha?" he growled, towering over me where I sat. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light, teeth elongating as he spoke. "Privileged Beta bitch thinks she can talk down to Alpha Thorne?"
I tried to stand, to at least face the threat on my feet, but my legs were still weak from the collar fitting. "I didn't insult him—"
"Heard you called him by his first name in court," a female wolf joined in, her face contorted with disgust. "Think you're special? Think the rules don't apply to you?"
"Your kind always thinks you're above the rest of us," another snarled, moving closer. "Look at her now—not so elite with that collar burning her pretty neck."
They surrounded me, five angry wolves sensing weakness. Without my full strength, without the ability to shift, I was easy prey. I pressed myself against the wall, searching desperately for a way out, but they had me cornered.
"The guards won't help you," the burly male said, reading my thoughts. "They look the other way when we discipline our own. Consider it your first lesson in exile."
The first blow caught me across the face, the wolf's partially shifted hand bearing claws that tore into my cheek. I tasted blood as my head snapped back against the concrete wall. Before I could recover, a kick struck my ribs, driving the air from my lungs in a painful whoosh.
I tried to fight back, lashing out with my fists, but the collar made me weak, uncoordinated. My wolf, who should have been lending me strength and speed even in human form, was too distant to help.
"Not so tough now, are you?" A female wolf grabbed my hair and slammed the back of my skull into the wall. Stars exploded across my vision. "This is what happens to traitors to the Alpha."
They took turns, methodical in their cruelty. A punch to the stomach. A kick to the kidneys. Claws raking down my arm. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my vital organs as I had seen injured wolves do in the wild.
Through swollen eyes, I saw the guards watching from the doorway, making no move to intervene. One of them even smiled.
As darkness began to creep in from the edges of my vision, my thoughts turned not to Thorne or even to the injustice of my situation, but to my family. My father, who had taught me to hunt in the forests beyond Moon Bay. My mother, whose gentle hands had tended my childhood injuries. My brother, who had always protected me despite being younger.
Were they safe? Would they survive what was coming for them?
I will survive this. I will return and clear my father's name. My mother and brother must be in hiding... I need to find them.
The last thing I heard before blackness claimed me was a guard finally calling for the others to stop.
"Don't damage the merchandise too much," he said lazily. "Alpha Thorne wants this one to make it to the Wilds alive."
Even in my pain, I wondered: Did he want me to survive as a mercy? Or did he want me to suffer longer?