This storeroom, which had begun life as housing for the first colonists, was equipped to hold many more than a hundred people. The ceiling reached three stories high and was rough with divots and stalactites where air bubbles had formed and lava had dripped eons ago. Though the cavern was ancient and impenetrable, someone long ago had had the foresight to reinforce it with interspersed stone columns. Countless alcoves and more corridors stretched in every direction, leading to additional barracks or training grounds.
Around the exterior were dingy lockers and open crates, many of which had been left wide-open and neglected. Benches and exercise equipment filled the remaining space: freestanding punching bags, chin-up bars, weights. Many of them had been shoved aside to make room for the main entertainment in the room’s center.
The howls dissolved into cheering and whooping again. Canine teeth flashed. Most of them were in some state of undress—missing shirts, bare feet, a stunning amount of hair in places that Winter wasn’t certain were natural or not.
A shudder danced over her skin. Scarlet’s words rang back to her: They will do what they’re told, and that will be to eat us.
Scarlet was right. This had been a mistake. She was not brilliant. She was losing her mind.
The doors slammed shut, making her jump. One man jerked around to face them. His gaze fell on Winter, skipped to Scarlet, then returned. First curious, then—inevitably—ravenous.
A sly smile curled one side of his mouth.
“Well, well,” he mused. “Feeding time already?”
Fifty-Seven
The man who had spoken grabbed the nearest soldier by the neck and tossed him toward the center of the circle. Shouts of surprise and anger rolled through the gathered men as a few toppled beneath their comrade’s weight. Within seconds there was a furor of flying fists and snapping jaws. One man slashed at the one who had noticed them, sharpened fingernails drawing lines of blood across his chest. A second later, he was also picked up and hurled into the turmoil.
“Manners,” someone yelled, loud enough that his voice shook through the walls, and Winter had a quick and searing vision of the dome of lava rock crumbling on top of them. It would start with a quaking of the walls, then a few dribbles of dust and pebbles, until a crack drove its way from one end of the cavern to the other, opening wide and—
“There are ladies in our presence,” said the mutant who had first seen them. His nose crinkled at the word ladies.
The attention of a hundred hybrid soldiers landed on Winter and Scarlet. As eyebrows rose and thorny gazes raked over them, the men seemed to forget their brawl. They started to spread out. Lithe, muscular bodies creeping between the mess of equipment with agonizing patience. Noses twitching. Tongues tapping at sharp teeth.
Hair prickled at the back of Winter’s neck and she found herself rooted to the floor, shocked by the sudden, breathable silence.
Once the crowd had dispersed, she could see that their focus had been on a fight between two of the soldiers, both of whom were bleeding and swollen and grinning, as intrigued as the rest. It was impossible to tell which of them had been winning the fight prior to the interruption.
There was an abundance of scars and faded bruises on all of the men, suggesting that such brawls were a common occurrence. A way to pass the time while waiting to be sent to Earth and take part in Levana’s war.
Fear pulsed through Winter. What if she had been wrong?
“Hello, pretty ladies,” said one of the soldiers, rubbing his whiskered jaw. “Are you lost?”
Winter shrank closer to Scarlet, but Scarlet pulled away, stepping forward to meet them. Scarlet was the brave one, the resilient one, proving it as she tilted back her head in mock defiance.
“Which one of you is in charge?” said Scarlet, fisting her hands on her hips. “We want to speak with your alpha.”
A dull cackle spread through them.
“Which one?” said the first mutant. “Eleven packs, eleven alphas.”
“The strongest one,” said Scarlet, piercing him with a glower as fierce as any Winter had ever seen. “If you’re not sure which one that is, we’ll wait while you fight it out.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take your pick, pretty lady?” one asked as he prowled behind them, cutting off their exit—not that Winter had any hope of running. She could tell they were trying to intimidate her and Scarlet, and she could feel to her bones how well it was working. “I’m sure any of us would be happy to satisfy whatever needs you might have.”
Scarlet glared at him from the corner of her eye. “I already have an alpha mate to satisfy my needs, and he could slaughter any one of you.”
The man barked and a rough chuckle rumbled through the rest of them.
The first soldier stepped closer to Scarlet and his expression was intrigued again. “She’s telling the truth,” he said, silencing the laughter. “His scent is all over her. One of us.” His eyes narrowed. “Or … a special operative?”
“Alpha Ze’ev Kesley,” said Scarlet. “Heard of him?”
A beat. A smirk. “No.”
Scarlet clicked her tongue. “Too bad. I can already tell he’s both twice the man and twice the wolf of any of you. He could teach you a thing or two.”
The man laughed again, amused. “I didn’t realize they were letting our pack brothers take mates on Earth. More reason to anticipate our deployments.”
Winter pressed her sweating palms against her sides, grateful that Scarlet held their attention. If she’d been forced to speak, her mouth would have spouted incoherent mutterings and they would have laughed at her one moment and sunk their teeth into her the next. Jaws clamping around her limbs. Teeth tearing her muscles from the bones.
“We’re not here to discuss my love life, or yours,” said Scarlet. “You seem to be the most chatty. Do you nominate yourself as the leader here?”
He tilted his head in a manner that reminded Winter of Ryu, how he would sometimes cock his ears when he heard the gamekeeper arriving with a meal. “Alpha Strom, at your service.” He dipped into a mocking bow. Though he wasn’t larger than the others, he moved with an unnatural grace. Like Wolf. Like Ryu. “And at the service of the pretty thing, back there. I suggest you speak fast, pretty lady. I can hear my pack’s stomachs growling.”
One of the soldiers ran his tongue over his bottom lip.
Scarlet turned and gave Winter a look.
Shivering from head to toe, Winter reached for Scarlet, using her shoulder for balance.
The soldiers laughed.
“Winter,” Scarlet hissed.
“I’m frightened, Scarlet.”
Scarlet’s expression turned to stone. “Perhaps you’d like to go outside and compose yourself and we can come back later,” she said, speaking through clenched teeth.
Winter shuddered at Scarlet’s anger, though she knew Scarlet had a right to it. Coming here had been her idea. If they both died here, it would be her fault.
But she wouldn’t allow it. These were men, she reminded herself. Men who deserved life and happiness as much as anyone.
Holding firm to that thought, she forced herself away from Scarlet and was grateful when the dizziness receded.
“I am Winter Hayle-Blackburn, Princess of Luna,” she said, and could tell even in her own ears how faintly her voice carried. Not at all like Scarlet’s. “I need your help.”
Eyes flashed, delighted.
“In return, I wish to help you.”
Amusement. Hunger. Less curiosity than she would have hoped.