Jesse's heart shattered when the announcement played over the speakers. The only way to DeiganLupus was on the Riperton trade ship, and now that it was lost at sea, how was he supposed to get there?

He should have known something like this would happen, though; it was just his luck. First, the man he thought he'd marry rejected him without a moment's hesitation, and now he wasn't going to make it to the Grey Moon Ceremony. Maybe he just wasn't supposed to find his mate.

With a despondent stare, he stood amidst the ocean of rushing people as they shoved and charged by. Despite the fact that the world was twenty-five years into a catastrophic war, nobody seemed afraid anymore. Businessmen scurried past nattering about where their next profit was coming from, and the only thing every group of vacationing teenagers appeared to be worried about was whether they'd get a tan this time of year.

Then again, Jesse could be overthinking. It was probably the only thing he was good at. The Nosferatu had done an amazing job protecting people like him for four consecutive years; maybe it was time that he calmed down—everyone else evidently had.

With a hopeless sigh, he navigated his way through the tsunami of people and found somewhere to sit. He slumped onto the bench and placed his suitcase beside him, and as he stared at the large glass windows of the Solitudinem Docks, he sunk a little deeper into despair. Maybe he shouldn't have left his pack; maybe the things his mother said had some truth to them. He was foolish, wasn't he? He was miles from home, following a strange feeling on a whim. He had no real plan; he didn't even know how he was supposed to get back.

The sound of an argument snatched his attention. He turned his head towards the commotion and saw a very red-faced, uppity-looking man. He argued with a dockworker, flailing his arms and insisting that his business meeting was more important than a missing ship.

"I don't care what it costs!" he exclaimed. "Get me on the next ship to Riperton!"

The flustered young dockworker twiddled his fingers nervously. "I-I'm sorry, sir, but there really isn't—"

"Are there actually any brain cells in that skull of yours?! There are seven vessels out there—I've seen them with my own two eyes! Surely one of them has to be passing by!"

With a conflicted frown, the dockworker shrugged. "I-I don't know where they're going. I just clean the floors."

"Then who would know?!" he demanded impatiently.

The dockworker pointed to a ticket booth.

Jesse watched the businessman storm through the crowd and towards the booth. He focused on his voice and listened to him have the same loud conversation with the woman behind the window; he raged about how the ship he'd bought a seat on was lost at sea, and after a heated back and forth, the woman gave in and told him that she could trade his seat for one on a galleon bound for Ascela but stopping at DeiganLupus. The woman gave him his ticket, and he walked off with a victorious look on his face.

If he could trade his ticket, could Jesse? He had to try. He wanted to get to that ceremony; he wasn't ready to give in yet. So, he grabbed his suitcase and hurried over to the ticket booth.

"Can I help you?" the windswept woman asked.

"I, uh...I was supposed to be on the Abigail, but—"

"She's lost at sea, sir. Sorry—"

"Yeah, but I just saw that guy trade his ticket for—"

The woman let out a breathy sigh. "Name?"

Jesse stuttered, "Uh...J-Jesse...Redwood."

"Species?" the woman asked as she looked through a thick notebook.

"W-wolf walker."

After a few long seconds, the woman scribbled something down and then tore a ticket off the large strip. "The Silver Treader in dock six, leaving in twenty minutes. She's a military vessel transporting supplies. I'm sure I don't have to tell you to do exactly what the hospitality crew say." She handed the ticket to him.

A relieved smile banished the dismay from Jesse's face. "Thank you," he said, taking it from her.

The woman grunted in response.

He wasn't going to waste a moment. Jesse turned around and rushed towards dock six, and when he stepped out of the building and into the light of the moon, his eyes met the silver glow of the huge galleon. It was equipped with at least fifty canons on each side; he could see their ends poking out the hatches on the hull. And if that wasn't enough to make him feel uneasy, several heavily armed soldiers were guarding the bridge leading up to the deck. He knew that the seas could be just as dangerous as both land and air travel, but seeing just how prepared this crew was for trouble made him wonder once again whether he was making the right choice.

Jesse stopped and stared at the vessel as anxiety pooled in his gut. This was the furthest he'd ever been from home, and he was beginning to feel the distance. It made him sick, and the urge to turn back grew stronger with each passing moment. Even if he did make it to the ceremony, there was no guarantee that he'd find his mate there. Maybe he should just go back to the pack; James could change his mind...he could choose to withdraw his rejection.

But then his mother's voice echoed around inside his head, telling him how stupid, weak, and useless he was. How could the child of not only one but two powerful bloodline Alphas be so disappointing?

He clenched his fists and exhaled deeply, dismissing as much of his anxiety as he could. No, he wasn't going to turn back; he wasn't going to prove his mother right. He continued towards the ship, but when he approached the stairs, one of the armed guards stepped forward and looked him up and down.

"Ticket?" he asked him.

Jesse trembled nervously. This man wasn't just any soldier; there were silver blades sheathed on his belt, and the rounds inside the semi-transparent magazine of his rifle were made of the same metal—a metal which was either poisonous or fatal to over seventy percent of Caeleste, including his kind. And what was even more horrifying was that this man was a demon, not human—who were more likely to carry those kinds of weapons—and he was wearing a Vârcolac badge. What would a member of a Nosferatu law enforcement division be doing with silver bullets? And why was he guarding this ship with four others?

"Ticket?" he asked again, his voice carrying a suspicious tone.

Jesse flinched in startle and shakily held out his ticket. "S-sorry."

The man snatched it and glared at it for a few moments. "Travel documents?" he then asked.

Jesse put his suitcase down and opened the front zipper. He took out the folded pages inside and handed them to him. As the soldier slowly examined his papers, Jesse did his best to remain calm. What if something was missing? He'd never travelled before, and the only person he had to rely on when getting those documents was Trevor, but even though Trevor was smarter than he was, he had his moments. He sorely hoped that he hadn't missed anything.

"Where are you going?" the soldier asked him.

"DeiganLupus."

"Why?"

"Th-the Grey Moon Ceremony."

He flipped through the pages again but then gave them and his ticket back. "Follow that woman there," he said, nodding to a blonde stewardess waiting by the stairs. "Decks nine through five are off-limits to civilians. Trespassing is a punishable offence."

Jesse's curiosity and fear clashed. He wanted to know why, but he knew better than to ask. This guy would likely yell at him or worse if he asked too many questions, so he nodded and walked over to the stewardess. "Uh, that man told me to follow you."

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The woman nodded and said, "This way, please."

Jesse followed her up onto the deck, and as if to make him question his decision once again, the smell of seawater and gunpowder was accompanied by the faint but noticeable scent of wolfsbane. He stopped in his tracks and tensed up. His instincts started telling him that something was wrong, and he wasn't going to ignore them—not after seeing those silver bullets.

"Don't be alarmed, sir," the stewardess then said. "The Silver Treader is transporting medical and military supplies to Nosferatu outposts."

"Since when do the Nosferatu use wolfsbane?" he questioned worriedly.

The woman laughed a little as she placed her hand on Jesse's back and began escorting him towards the doors that led inside. "You'd be surprised how commonly it's used. Trust me, I was a little skeptical at first, but I can assure you, it's all perfectly well contained."

Jesse felt no reason not to believe her—after all, the woman was a wolf walker, too—and now that he felt assured, his instincts started settling. "Why are there Vârcolac soldiers, though?"

"I suppose they're all the Nosferatu could spare, what with the war and everything." She led Jesse inside and down a flight of stairs. "Now, like the guard said, floors five and below are off-limits. It's going to take ten days to get to DeiganLupus, but don't worry, there's a restaurant and bar onboard, as well as a club, so you don't have to stay cooped up in your room."

He nodded. "Okay."

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs and got halfway down the hallway, the stewardess stopped outside a door and fiddled with several keys. She unlocked the door and turned to face Jesse. "This is you." She handed him the key. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We'll be leaving shortly. If you need anything, there's a telephone and a directory menu."

"Thank you," he said, and as the stewardess left, he went into his room and shut the door behind him.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The room was a little bigger than the one he would have gotten on the Abigail, and it was certainly a step up from the miserable hovel his parents made him stay in at home. There was actually space for him to move around, and the bed didn't double as a study desk and place to put his clothes. He wasn't a fan of all the whites and browns, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

He put his suitcase on the bed and wandered over to the kitchenette. When he opened the small fridge, he was surprised to see it stocked with bottles of soda and juice, as well as some sandwiches. If he had to guess, he'd think this room was meant for someone of a much higher class...so why was he in it? Where was the rich businessman or famous actress who he suspected should be staying there?

Jesse went back to the bed and opened his suitcase. He started unpacking, and when the ship jolted and the dock bells rang, he watched through the window as it left the docks. His heart thumped in his chest, and his anxiety skyrocketed. He was on his way to DeiganLupus; he'd actually left his home...and he hoped that it would all be worth it.

Once he was done unpacking, he sat on the edge of the bed and let out a deep, tired sigh. After a long day of travelling, all he wanted to do was sleep.

But then he heard it.

That voice.

A whisper echoed through the walls. Jesse couldn't make out what it was saying, but the cold, serpentine murmurs sent shivers down his spine. He tensed up, but despite how uneasy it made him feel, his instincts didn't kick in and tell him that he should be terrified like they usually would. No...what he felt was curious.

The voice slithered around his room like a buzzing mosquito, and it carried a certain malice with it. Whoever was talking was angry, and considering that he couldn't hear a second voice, it seemed as though they were talking to themselves.

Could it be whoever was staying next door? He couldn't help but be nosey; it was his second nature. He moved towards the wall and pressed his ear against it, but the speaker's words were disembodied, like the voice was ricocheting off a metallic surface.

He followed the voice along the wall and into the bathroom, where it was louder. After a few moments of looking around, he spotted the vent in the top right corner of the shower. That was where it was coming from.

Jesse listened for a few minutes, hoping that he might be able to decipher what they were saying, but not one word made sense, and that only made him feel more curious.

But there was something else, too. Not just curiosity or his tendency to be nosey. He felt it before...that pull...and it was luring him closer. He not only wanted to know what the voice was saying but he also wanted to know who it belonged to. It was like he had to know.

He hesitated and took his eyes off the vent. An angry, muffled voice travelling through the vents of a ship carrying military supplies was probably the last thing anyone would want to follow. It could be soldiers or that huffy businessman he saw at the ticket office. He should mind his own business.

Right?

Jesse turned around—

The voice grew louder, and this time, it wasn't angry. It was desperate.

He left the bathroom and tried to shift his attention to the books he'd brought with him, but he couldn't ignore it. The very same pull that convinced him to leave his home and get on this ship was urging him to find the owner of that voice. And if there was anything valuable that he'd learned from his atrocious mother, it was that he should never ignore his instincts. The wolf inside him had senses that he could only hope to one day understand.

Jesse tucked his room key into his pocket and stepped out into the hall. He looked left and right, hesitating again, but his instincts encouraged him forward. He turned left and followed the corridor to the end, and then he took the stairs down to the deck below. A group of snobby-faced aristocrats approached, and he stopped to let them by. Once they disappeared upstairs, he kept following the path his senses laid out for him. To the end of the hall...down another flight of stairs, and to a narrow, spiralling stairwell.

He couldn't take one more step. Those stairs led all the way down to the third deck; he wasn't allowed down there.

But he had to. He could feel his wolf clawing under his skin, insisting that he kept going.

What if someone saw him? What if those soldiers found him? They'd arrest him, and he'd heard horror stories about what happened to wolf walkers who broke the law. He didn't want to risk it.

He couldn't...could he?

Jesse frowned in confliction and stared down the stairwell. His wolf insisted harder and harder with each passing second, and as terrified as he was, he didn't want to ignore it. So he took the first step, and after that, it felt like his wolf was in control of his body. He reached the bottom of the stairs before he knew it, and when he found himself staring down a dark, metal corridor, his racing heart beat so fast that it felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest.

The voice was clearer—nearer. It muttered and shivered; its owner sounded afraid and angry at the same time, and the clink of metal against metal followed the muffled murmurs.

There wasn't a soldier in sight, but it wasn't the fear of bumping into one of them that made Jesse tremble. The stench of wolfsbane was so much stronger, almost as if it was burning in the same corridor he was standing in—the air was certainly smoggy enough.

Still, his instincts pleaded that he went forward.

So he did. He walked very slowly, twiddling his fingers together as his legs trembled. He stopped when he saw a hole in the wall beside him, and he realized that it was the window of a cell door. There wasn't anyone inside though, nor was anyone inside the six other cells he passed.

But when he reached the door at the very end of the corridor, something moved around inside.

Jesse stumbled back and stifled a gasp, but whoever was inside saw him.

They spoke another language—he spoke another language. Whatever he was saying didn't make any sense; the voice sounded defensive and cautious, and despite knowing that he should have turned back minutes ago, Jesse was drawn closer.

He approached the metal door and peered in through the window. Sitting with his back against the far wall was a naked, bloody man. His wrists and ankles were bound in silver shackles, which burned his sore, dark skin. The knotted hair on his head was as black as his eyes, and the longer Jesse stared, the more hostile the expression on the man's face grew.

Jesse knew that he should be afraid; he knew that he should run before someone saw him or that man lunged at him through the door, but his feet remained firmly on the ground. His wolf's excitement entangled with his fear, and it was the strangest sensation he'd ever experienced. Why couldn't he take his eyes off him? Why couldn't his anxiety force him to turn tail and run like it usually did? The one time he actually wanted to be a coward...and all he could do was stand there like a deer in headlights.

"You're not Vârcolac," the man said, his voice silvery and as dark as the cell he was confined in.

His words sent a chill down Jesse's spine. "N-no," he answered almost obediently.

The man slowly climbed to his feet. His chains rattled, and he grunted as if he were hurt, but there weren't any visible injuries on his body. He lurched towards the door, but the shackles kept him from getting within five feet of it.

He was close enough for Jesse to see his face, though. It was covered in blood and stubble, and a deep scar cut down the right side of it. Jesse's eyes quickly locked with his again, and the longer he stared, the stranger he felt. As if the man was staring into his soul, reading him like a book, he scoffed and stepped back.

"You?" the man asked, resentment in his gruff voice.

Jesse frowned in confusion, but there wouldn't be time for him to ask him why he said it like that—or why he said it at all. Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. Someone was coming.

He had to go, but when he tried to pull away, his wolf refused to let him leave. It wanted to stay; it wanted answers, it wanted more.

The man slowly backed away and sunk down to the floor. "You better run, little wolf," he told him coldly. "Or they'll throw you in here, too."

It was only then that his wolf let Jesse leave. He stumbled back and hurried towards the stairs, panting as his heart raced and his body trembled, but it wasn't the fear that had him so overwhelmed. Whoever that man was, he had something that his wolf wanted, and he was quickly overbore by a strange desperation to find out what. However, before he could do that, he had to get back upstairs.

Jesse sprinted up the steps, racing as fast as he could. The man's voice echoed from below along with several others, but it didn't sound like anyone was following him. When he reached the top of the stairs, he leaned against the wall and let out a deep, breathy sigh.

But he noticed the armed man on his right too late, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He'd been caught.