As Jesse was dragged into a room by a Vârcolac guard, a chill settled over him, penetrating deeper than the cold, dank air. The walls, coated with mould, seemed to close in on him, suffocating any hope of escape; absent of windows, the place felt like a forsaken pit, devoid of light and life. Crates filled with putrid herbs exuded a sickening odour that clawed at his senses, while the unmistakable scent of wolfsbane lingered ominously from a large metal crate nearby.

In the centre, a solitary table stood flanked by two chairs—one of which Jesse was shoved down onto. The guard, his crimson-eyed gaze filled with skepticism, then paced the room with deliberate steps, each one amplifying the sense of impending doom that hung thick in the atmosphere. His demon smell filled Jesse's nostrils, its sulphuric tints burning his skin, and as every slow second lurched by, the man's intimidating aura grew heavier.

Jesse wasn't sure if he should start trying to explain himself. He sat there, his hands trembling, his legs shaking. The longer the guard paced, the more desperate he began to feel—the more desperate he felt to blurt out an answer to an unasked question. But what if he said the wrong thing? What if he said something that made the guard decide to throw him down in the brig, too? There were plenty of empty cages down there, and inside one was the last place Jesse wanted to find himself.

"What were you doing down there?" the guard finally asked, his deep voice laced with hostility. "The brig is off-limits; you were told that before boarding."

His throat felt like it was closing up. He tried to find his voice, but trepidation gripped him tight, forcing him to stutter while he stared wide-eyed.

"Who are you? Answer me!" he bellowed, slamming his hands down on the table.

Jesse flinched and clasped his hands together. "J-Jesse Redwood," he answered shakily. "I-I was supposed to be on the Abigail, b-but it was lost at sea, so I was told to get on this ship instead."

"Yes, and you were told that decks nine through five were off limits, yet you were caught coming up from the brig," he said suspiciously, his glare thickening.

"I-I'm sorry, I got lost," Jesse insisted, his heart starting to race. "I-I've never been on a ship like this before, s-so I just...I don't really know where—"

"You were told where you could and couldn't go!" the man interjected impatiently. "What were you doing down in the brig?"

Jesse was starting to panic. "I-I got lost," he repeated fearfully, his entire body shaking. "I-I was looking for the stewardess who showed me to my room."

"And why would a stewardess be down in the brig?"

"I-I...I don't know, I—"

"Stop lying to me, Jesse," the man warned. "We've got plenty of spare cells on this ship, and if you don't start telling me the truth, you'll be spending the rest of your journey in one of them. You don't want that, do you?"

Jesse shook his head. "N-no, sir."

The Vârcolac guard then leaned forward, moving a little closer to Jesse. "We've got murderers on board, Jesse. Cannibals. Some of the men in those cages did terrible, awful things, and what they'd do if they got their hands on a little dog like you..." he threatened him, shaking his head. "Makes me sick just thinking about it."

As he tensed up even more, Jesse's breaths became stifled, and he struggled to say, "I-I'm sorry. P-please don't lock me up, sir. I really did get lost!"

He stood up straight with a "Hmph," and crossed his arms. "You know what the first thing they teach us as Vârcolac training is?"

Jesse gawped at him, nervously twiddling his fingers together.

"They teach us how to tell when someone's lying." He prowled around the side of the table until he was beside Jesse, and then he grabbed the sides of the chair and twisted it around so that Jesse was facing him. As Jesse whimpered in fear, the guard harshly prodded his finger into the centre of his chest over and over in the same rhythm as his racing heart. "Your heart tells me everything I need to know." He snatched Jesse's collar. "Tell me the fucking truth!"

He felt like such an idiot. Demons could hear someone's heartbeat, and they could tell when they were lying, just like a wolf walker could. Jesse knew that, and he should have known that there'd be no way for him to avoid telling him what really happened. So what choice did he have? "I-I heard a voice," he answered, mortified, staring into the guard's glowing red eyes. "S-someone...I don't know, they were calling, a-and I couldn't stop myself from following."

The Vârcolac guard scowled at him, his eyes shifting as though he were reading a book, and after a long silence, he questioned, "Who was calling?"

"I-I...I think...a man. I-I'm sorry," he quavered. "I-I didn't want to go, but I couldn't ignore it. I—"

The guard let go of his collar, harshly shoving Jesse back a little, making the chair legs scrape loudly across the floor.

Jesse didn't dare move back to the table. He sat where the chair had shifted to, watching anxiously as the man gradually walked around to the other side of the table, a pondering expression on his pale face. He considered saying sorry again—maybe a few more apologies would make the guard go easy on him—but he wouldn't dare utter a word, either.

Several moments passed, and when the guard placed his hands on the table again and leaned forward on them, he glowered at Jesse. "How did you escape?"

A confused frown flickered through Jesse's terrified expression. "W-what?"

"How did you escape?!" he repeated angrily.

Jesse flinched again. "I-I don't know!" he whimpered. "I-I just heard someone coming and ran!"

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The man looked confounded but quickly hid it with a scowl. "Who are you?" he asked again.

He didn't want to call the guard out for repeating his questions; he was far too horrified to cheek him. "J-Jesse Redwood."

"Where did you come from?"

"S-Solitudinem, sir."

As he stood up straight, the man looked as if he'd worked something out. "Jesse Redwood...as in the Redwood Pack? The Nosferatu's errand dogs?"

He kept saying dog, and Jesse had to resist even grimacing in response. With a nervous nod, he answered, "Yes, sir."

The Vârcolac guard scoffed. "So, you lot finally started learning how to resist the Lure."

Jesse had no idea what he was talking about, but he was too afraid to ask questions, especially since his family probably knew what the guard meant. He already felt weak, stupid, and useless next to his family; he didn't want to be reminded by some Vârcolac goon.

However, the man's skeptical frown returned. "It's a little coincidental that you'd end up on the same ship as one of the men on the Nosferatu's wanted list." He looked Jesse up and down with a condescending glower. "I'd suspect you'd been sent to make sure we're doing our jobs right, but you don't look the type. What are you? Omega? Upsilon?"

As an embarrassed, shameful haze stole Jesse's face, he hung his head and said, "Omega."

With a cruel laugh, the man stood up straight. "Well, don't worry, Jesse Redwood. We've got this one; he's on his way to be executed. And if you weren't Nosferatu property, that's exactly where I'd be convincing my boss to take you."

Jesse shuddered as horror shot through him. Was the punishment for going onto a military ship's forbidden deck really that serious? If there was ever anything he could be grateful for about his heritage, it was the fact that it had probably just saved his life. Of course, he resented being called Nosferatu property, but that was how most perceived his family; they did, after all, hunt down criminal wolf walkers for the Government.

"However," the man then said.

His fear intensified, and angst strangled him. What was he about to tell him?

"You still trespassed, so you're going to make yourself comfortable right here until I've spoken to my boss. Redwood or not, no one's immune to the laws."

Jesse watched a smirk creep across the guard's face as his own nervous expression grew. He was getting a kick out of this, wasn't he? It was already clear as day that he hated wolf walkers—anyone who called them dogs hated them—and he seemed to be even angrier that Jesse was a Redwood. He was likely going to push for the worst kind of punishment.

As the guard left the room, pulling the door shut behind him, Jesse sunk down into a dark, cold pit of despair. Far from home with no way back, a burden to his family, rejected by the man he loved, and now likely going to prison for being the idiot that his parents always said he was; there'd been something that told him he wouldn't make it to the Grey Moon Ceremony from the very moment he left home, and if it wasn't his original ship getting lost at sea, it would be getting locked up, wouldn't it?

Of course it would. Of course something would stop him.

His throat tightened as he felt tears trying to form in his eyes. He attempted to hold them back, but his fear and dismay made it impossible. What was going to happen to him now? Why was he such a fucking idiot? Why did he have to follow that voice? He shouldn't have listened to his instincts, either; his mother was right. He was nothing but a useless, brainless fool who would never amount to anything. He wasn't sure why he'd thought that following a strange feeling would get him anywhere other than exactly where he was right now.

But he deserved it. He chose not to listen to his mother, and he chose to indulge the fantasy that maybe there was someone waiting for him in some other corner of the world.

There wasn't. He wouldn't make it to the ceremony, and even if he did, there were no guarantees that he'd find his mate. Maybe he just didn't have one.

He exhaled shakily as a lone tear trickled down the side of his face, but frustration quickly replaced his sorrow. With an irritated grunt, he roughly wiped his eyes and huffed angrily. No. He wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to prove his family right. Whatever was about to happen, he'd do his best to get out of it. He could milk the fact that he was a Redwood; he could use his heritage to evade jail time and just promise to stay in his room until the ship reached DeiganLupus. He'd heard so many stories of his pack getting off worse crimes than trespassing.

Footsteps echoed outside.

Jesse took his gaze off the floor and looked over at the door. He listened as several pairs of boots raced past outside, and when a siren sliced through the silence, he flinched again and frantically looked around as the sound circled the ship.

What the hell was going on? What was that sound?

Indistinct voices came from the other side of the door.

"How the hell did this happen?!"

"Which way did he go? Did anyone see?!"

"Search every deck!"

"Find him!"

Jesse slowly rose to his feet, expecting the Vârcolac guard to return and either tell him what happened or order him back to his room because whatever was going on sounded important...and dangerous. Someone was missing? They weren't looking for him, were they? No...why would they be? The guard who'd detained him would tell his colleagues if that were the case.

So what was going on? He edged closer to the door, listening as the hurrying footsteps faded down both sides of the hall. A part of him wanted to take his chance and leave, but the guard knew his name, and he'd find Jesse once everything was over.

With a conflicted, anxious frown, Jesse returned to his seat. But after ten minutes, the alarm was still blaring, and he could still hear people rushing about outside the door, on the floor above, and the floor below.

Had a murderer escaped? A cannibal? Jesse shivered again. There were a lot of civilians on the ship; what if one of the prisoners had escaped and started killing people?

He stood up again, his desire to return to his room increasing.

But he sat back down moments later.

And then he stood up once more; just as he was about to head for the door, he hesitated and went to sit back down...but that was when he heard approaching footsteps.

Jesse panicked. His heart started racing so hard that it felt like it might burst out of his chest; he looked around for something to defend himself with and considered shifting into his wolf form so that he was ready, but just as he was about to, the door swung open, and a Vârcolac guard stood in the doorway.

The man frowned and asked, "What are you doing in here?"

Struggling to fight his anxiety to get to his voice, Jesse cleared his throat and stuttered, "U-uh, your uh...one of your colleagues was questioning me 'cause I got lost."

For a moment, the guard eyed him, but he then dismissively said, "Get back to your room and lock the door. One of the prisoners has escaped." He left the room immediately and disappeared down the hall.

Despite suspecting that a prisoner had escaped, Jesse wasn't prepared to hear it. He didn't waste a moment. He hurried out of the room and turned right, navigating the halls as the siren continued blaring. He dodged several passing guards and panicking stewardesses, and when he reached his room, he spotted the businessman he'd seen at the docks. The man was arguing with a guard, telling him to turn the alarm off because he was trying to work. Jesse rolled his eyes.

He quickly pushed his door open, rushed into his room, and slammed the door shut behind him. With a deep huff, he rested his forehead against the door and tried to calm his shaking limbs, but then he quickly twisted the lock and pulled the bolt, ensuring that his room was the safest place he could be.

Could this day get any worse?

Jesse sighed tiredly and turned around—

A cold, bloody hand snatched his jaw, covering his mouth and silencing him as he was pinned against the door. He tried to shriek and struggle, but when his horrified gaze met a pair of black, soulless eyes, terror constricted him like a swift, jagged serpent.

And a dark, silvery voice warned him, "If you make a sound, I'll kill you."