Page 4 of The Red Moon

“Nikolai. I knew there was something wrong with him,” she says, panting in my ear. “He’s a monster, Natalie. Him and the rest of the people working there.”

I hold her at arm’s reach, pleading to whatever god exists she doesn’t grab on again. “Because they are monsters.”

“What do you mean?” Her unkept brows weave together.

I sigh out the curses I want to scream at her and shake my head. “They’re werewolves.”

“What?” Veronica either gasps or squeaks, but I can’t tell the difference.

“Werewolves. Half-human, half-monster. Full moons. Claws. We’re standing beneath the pack’s den,” I say and point to the ceiling, her eyes following my finger and mouth hanging low.

It’s at this point everyone else in the cage focuses on us, some wide-eyed while others appear skeptical. I don’t blame them. It is absolutely as crazy as it sounds. I’m sure most of them assume it’s some human-trafficking ring, but unfortunately for all of us, this place is worse. Way fucking worse.

“You’re not serious?” she says.

I scoff with annoyance and drop my hands from her shoulders. Did this really have to be the only cage? “Yes, Veronica. I have seen them.”

“But what would werewolves want with me?” Concern etches deep in her cheekbones.

“Us,” I correct her. “They brought us here for something.”

She doesn’t respond but simply stares at me, eyes even bigger and more bloodshot than before.

“What—” A man breaks the silence and his voice trails off, a hand at his mouth. “What do they want?”

I glance from the door atop the stairs to each wall of the basement. We’re closed in on all sides by layers of concrete and a single exit from the look of it. There’s no chance in hell we can dig our way out of here, nor does it seem likely any of us can fight off even the smallest of wolves keeping watch.

“To do what wolves do best.” Bile rolls in my stomach. “Hunt.”

We sit there in silence, each of us exchanging glances, some more frightened than others. Veronica hasn’t left my side, even when I stand and make a lap around the small cage to stretch out my limbs. Something in me knows it might be best to be limber for when these monsters decide they’re hungry. Sitting on concrete all day and enduring numbness in each leg will only make me an easier target. I won’t give these animals the satisfaction. More importantly, Viktor will have to work for his meal.

Questions come from the captives in waves. Some might hold back because of fear. Others might think it’s too ridiculous to say out loud. I can’t blame the ones who don’t believe me, though. If I never saw Nik transform in his loft, I’m sure I’d have a hard time believing me right now, too. Werewolves. Fucking werewolves? It’s like the plot of a B-rated horror movie, and yet? Here we are, awaiting execution by a pack of monsters ready to feast on our most vital organs.

The door atop the staircase slams open and two silhouettes stretch down each step. One is small, hunched over if I had to guess. The other, tall with broad shoulders.

“Bystreye, Shchenok,” a powerful voice echoes in Russian. The smaller shadow staggers down the steps while the other seems to take them two at a time, stomping his large feet for the bottom. One comes into view, hugging a bucket and dragging his foot behind him. When the other appears, I take note of the annoyed expression carved on his long face, and how he swings his bucket carelessly by the handle. It only takes a moment to figure out what they’re bringing to us.

Food.

Brown chunks of burnt bread poke over the top of the bucket held by the man limping toward the cage door.

The other? Well, whatever liquid he swings with every stride sloshes and spills to the floor, darkening parts of the cement into a mouthwatering black. They’re feeding us. Giving us water. We are, for now, being kept alive until the pack decides otherwise.

“And after I give you and Courtney matching throats during the blood moon—” Victor had said. The Blood moon. They are keeping us all alive to hunt on the next full moon. There’s a reason Veronica is still alive. Why everyone else here was taken and left in this cell. We are being readied for something bigger. Not just a snack for the Vostik pack, but the main fucking course.

I peer at each of my confined companions, taking note of the way they skitter from the men ambling toward the cage door, buckets in tow. Not a single one will look them in the eye, Veronica included. They all cower like cockroaches fleeing from a shoe. Except me. I stand tall and walk past the rest clinging for safety on the opposite end. I’ve seen the worst the Vostik pack has to offer, Viktor’s monstrous form still fresh in my mind. I’m not afraid, not when I know we’re being kept alive for a reason.

“Sergei,” the larger one shouts, irritation in his firm features. He motions to the lock on our cell.

The smaller man with light brown hair and a pained expression hobbles to the door and pulls a key from his tattered jeans pocket. He fiddles with the lock, fumbling the key in his hands until a loud click snaps it into place. His wide, frightened eyes mirrors that of the captives around me. Nothing like the large wolf staring absently to the side as if we’re some meaningless pets he was tasked with keeping alive. Sergei peels back the door, and the metal hinges squeal at an ear-piercing octave. He finally looks upward when I stand in front of him.

I force down the acid bubbling in my throat and grin, staring into his faint, glowing hazel eyes. “Thank you, Sergei,” I say, and reach for the bucket.

He recoils at first, and after a few moments of hesitation, hands the bread bucket to me. A slight smile stretches from one side of his face to the other. He’s nothing like the wolves I met at Völk. Each glowing-eyed employee was a chip off Viktor’s block. Sergei seems different. It’s almost like he’s just as scared as the rest of us.

“Ne govori,” the larger one says and stomps forward, his lengthy brow furrowed. More water splashes to the cement, meaning one of us might have to go without until another bucket is brought down here. There’s no telling how long that’ll be.

Sergei cowers and slowly tilts his head to him.