Chapter 2: Captured Shadows

Olivera's POV: My breathing steadied, the tremors in my body subsided, and the chaos in my mind quieted slightly, even with the hulking man looming at the door. It wasn’t the absence of fear that calmed me; it was the relief of seeing Jeremy alive. He was battered, barely conscious, but alive. And that was all that mattered. "Your mate, eh?" the man muttered, a devilish smile curling his lips. His words dripped with malice, each syllable cutting into my skin like shards of ice. "This will be fun." He turned, his heavy boots thudding against the cold stone floor as he exited the room. I shuddered, the foreboding weight of his words sinking deep into my bones. But I pushed the fear aside. Jeremy needed me. He was curled up on the floor, his body writhing in pain, his breaths labored. What had they done to him? Without thinking, I scrambled toward him, my knees hitting the hard floor beside his frail form. The smell of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the musty staleness of the room. I gently lifted his head, cradling it on my lap. "Jeremy…" I whispered, my voice cracking. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over. My hands, shaking and dirty, ran through his tousled blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, Jeremy… I'm so sorry." A sob lodged itself in my throat, but I choked it back. This wasn’t the time to break down. He needed comfort, not more pain. I began to hum, a soft tune my mother used to sing to me when I was upset as a child. The melody, simple and sweet, was the only thing I could think of to soothe him. It echoed off the walls, quieting the chaotic thoughts racing in my mind. Slowly, Jeremy’s body stopped trembling. His breaths evened out, and for a moment, I thought he’d finally fallen asleep. "Vera, don't blame yourself," he whispered suddenly, his voice hoarse but steady enough to catch me off guard. He wasn’t asleep, after all. "But if I hadn’t tried to escape—" I began, but he cut me off, his fingers weakly gripping my arm. "If you hadn’t, we would’ve been caught anyway. It’s not your fault." His words, though faint, held a firmness that left no room for argument. I bit my lip, trying to fight the guilt that gnawed at me. Jeremy was always so sure, so steady in his beliefs. He had always been the one to pull me from the depths of my darkest thoughts, even when I didn’t think anyone cared. "Vera," he called softly again, sensing my inner turmoil. "Yeah?" I muttered, my throat tight with emotion. "You’re not at fault. You have to stop carrying that weight. Get rid of that feeling," he rasped, his breath hitching as the pain clearly continued to claw at him. "Jeremy, stop talking. Save your strength," I urged, my fingers brushing the dirt off his cheeks. I didn’t care how filthy I was—nothing mattered except for him getting better. "Did he touch you?" Jeremy’s voice was strained as he turned his face toward me, his startling blue eyes now clouded with pain and concern. He struggled to keep eye contact, but the effort was there. I hesitated for a brief moment before answering, "No, he didn’t." There was no need to tell him about the slap. It was just a slap, one more in a lifetime of bruises—both physical and emotional—that I had learned to endure. His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Good," he murmured, his voice trailing off as the effort seemed to exhaust him further. "Jeremy, sleep," I whispered, this time more firmly. He needed to rest. His body was still weak, far too weak to keep speaking, and I could see the pain etched in every crease of his face. Reluctantly, his eyelids fluttered shut, and his body relaxed against the cold stone floor. His right hand, which had been gripping mine, slackened, falling to the side. I exhaled deeply, the weight of everything pressing down on me once more as I sat in the silence of the room. My eyes roamed the space, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand where we were. It was pointless—there were no clues, no answers. Just the darkness and the cold. Who had taken us? Our old pack? Another one? My mind, dulled by exhaustion and the overwhelming surge of emotions, couldn’t focus long enough to answer the questions swirling inside me. I needed sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, my mind raced, refusing to give me peace. Jeremy stirred beside me, and I glanced down, my heart heavy. He was my rock. The thought of losing him terrified me in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. I remembered when we first met, back in grade 12. He had been the hot transfer student, the nephew of our cruel Alpha. I had been nothing— just the outcast. The wolfless one. The nerd. The loser. But Jeremy had changed everything. When my little sister, Lisa, outed me to the entire school, my life had crumbled. I became the target of relentless bullying, the subject of every cruel whisper. Even my parents hadn’t stood up for me. Why would they? Lisa was their pride, the only child with a wolf. I was the cursed one, the mistake. I had been on the verge of ending it all when Jeremy stepped into my life. It was a Friday afternoon, the day I had decided it would be my last. I had quietly taken a rope from home, walking out to the school’s garden, determined to end my suffering. The torment. The loneliness. I had tied the rope to the tree, ready to jump, when a hand had grabbed my ankle. Startled, I slipped, but instead of hitting the ground, I fell into the arms of the most popular boy in school. Jeremy. I had known who he was—everyone did. He was kind, unlike the others, but we had never spoken before that day. He had looked furious at first, probably confused as to why someone like me would be doing something so drastic. But when he saw the tears, the pain I couldn’t hide any longer, he softened. That was the moment everything changed. He had listened to my story—really listened. And from that day forward, he never left my side. He became my protector, my anchor. A sharp grunt snapped me out of the memory, and I immediately leaned forward, my heart racing. "Jeremy," I whispered, my fingers brushing his forehead, smoothing away the lines of pain and worry that creased his face. "We’ll be okay," I murmured softly, more to myself than to him. "We’ll get through this." I had to believe it. I had to, because without Jeremy, I wasn’t sure I could face this nightmare alone. "We’ll be okay," I repeated, the words a quiet promise.