(story on hold) The Story of Greed parts 1–6

This story is on hold as of January 2020

PART ONE

Lights shimmered off her dress, greedily demanding the attention of every man in the room. The wolves in suits stared at her as if she was dinner, unaware that the angel in gold was the true predator of the night.

She walked deeper into her latest playground, looking up at the chandeliers to feign innocent wonder. 

“Miss.”

Her heels turned her to face a possible victim. 

That didn’t take long.

She couldn’t blame the young man. She had mastered seduction and flowered into the deadliest rose on Earth. Her colors, scent, and the way she seemed to flow with the wind allured men her way. It wasn’t their fault that they couldn’t tell that she was poison ivy disguised with petals. 

“Hi,” she breathed.

“I was just wondering if you would be up for a dance later on in the night?”

“Yes, of course.”

With a pleased grin, he extended his hand. “I’m Rowan Maxwell.”

Maxwell Corporations. Heir to his father’s line of hotels. Impressive, but not good enough.

She accepted his hand, hiding her strength from their handshake.

“I’m Jane. It’s lovely to meet you.”

She looked over his shoulder and saw Matteo Greco. He was the richest man in the room– the juiciest prey.

“Excuse me.”

Her heels clicked steadily as she approached him. He was sided by two bodyguards, but she wasn’t worried. Their brawn wouldn’t be enough to block her venom.

The men descended down the stairs. After careful timing, she forced a gasp and threw her balance to the wind. The bodyguards jumped to action the second they heard the thud of her body, searching for danger.

“It’s fine. Move,” her prey ordered from behind the wall of men.

Deeming her as harmless, Matteo extended a hand out to her.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffled as she looked up to finally meet the eyes of her next victim.

“I saw you at the fundraiser,” Matteo declared, taking in every inch of her body. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, well– I got news that my father is sick again. I was just about to call my driver.”

Matteo raised one of his dark brows, noting her empty hands. “I think that will be hard without a cellphone.”

She looked down as if realizing that she was missing something. “I must have left it inside!”

To finish the painting of a mistress in distress, she covered her face.

Matteo took one of her wrists, soothingly rubbing her skin with his thumb.

Drip.

“I can take you home if you wish. My name is Matteo Greco.”

Drip.

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude...” she struggled.

“I insist. What is your name?”

She licked her lips. “Jane.”

The name was as fake as her act. She wasn’t a rich heiress or a human for that matter.

She was Greed– a constant state of hunger in the flesh.

“Where are you staying? Based on your accent, I get the impression that you are not from around here.”

“I’m from Italy. My father and I are here in France for business.”

More lies. She had traveled a long way from the United States to carry out her scheme. She didn’t like choosing prey from the same country; that was too dangerous.

“I will take you to where you are staying, then. Is that alright?”

She nodded, taking a step forward. “Yes, please. I’m staying at the Stratosphere Hotel.”

Matteo guided her hand to the crook of his arm like the gentleman that he was. The thirty-year-old millionaire had just gotten bitten by the snake, and the poison was coursing through his body.

They walked to his limo. The bodyguards went to their own vehicle, following close behind.

She made sure the privacy window of the limo was up before commencing phase two.

“I just want to... apologize again for disrupting your night,” she whispered before hanging her head with scripted shame.

Matteo’s hand cupped her jaw and lifted her face. She didn’t meet his gaze, focusing on his lips instead.

The poison spreads.

Matteo’s fingers flew to her hair, hooking her face forward so they met. She offered no resistance even as his hands began to massage their way to her ass.

She trailed a hand up her thigh, reaching for what she knew was strapped there. Before the millionaire knew what hit him, she uncapped the needle and drove it into his arm.

He was knocked unconscious immediately, unable to handle the drug.

The sight of the powerful titan slumping over triggered her delicious high. Her chest warmed with satisfaction after another successful mission. Matteo could now be added to the long list of men who had been intoxicated by her venom.

She began to rob him, unstrapping his watch from his wrist and pulling out his wallet.

With a wicked laugh, Farrah pulled the door aside and jumped out of the moving vehicle. She rolled as she landed, and then ran off to her next adventure.

Where to next?

PART 2

The sound of screeching tires followed Farrah’s maddened laughter.

Matteo’s men were coming after her, but she wasn’t worried. She had been in this situation too many times to feel anything but thrill. She ran toward the treeline, and soon enough disappeared into the safety of her accomplice. She kept running, only stopping when the men were nothing but a memory. 

Her heels were a step away from falling apart, but her feet felt unaffected. They were used to the strain that came from her line of work.

She took a second to hold up her newly acquired Rolex watch. The diamonds glittered under the moonlight’s administrations. The watch was beautiful– and expensive. It was a trophy that represented her conquering of another man.

Farrah loved her job. She didn’t prey on just any men, though. She went after those that abused their wealth. The last thing she wanted was for the Moon Goddess to get involved in her business, so going after honest men was out of the question.

Greed lied, robbed, humiliated, and sinned; but she did it with virtue.

It was a win-win situation.

The snores of the motel’s clerk serenaded her entrance. With a prep in her step and a hum in her throat, she walked down the poorly lit stairway. After a few twists and turns, she found her door and unlocked it with the key she had hidden on top of the frame.

Once inside, she walked right into the bathroom and slid her dress from her body. Her breasts came into her view, looking as perky as her vanity.

I am a cunning beauty. Wanted by many but obtainable by none.

After tossing herself an obnoxious wink, she stepped into the shower. She didn’t dare to sit on the bathtub because although she was immortal, she wasn’t immune to infections. Having to hide out in hazardous motels was the only downside of the job. She was smart enough to know that high-end hotels needed to be avoided. They were the first place Matteo would look in.

She positioned her body directly under the spray. Hundreds of water droplets fell on her like roses thrown at an outstanding performer. She raised her arms, accepting the praise of the water.

I am the breath of life that men would kill to inhale. I am a vision.

She chuckled, closed her eyes, and began to trail her hands down her toned stomach. She easily found the slit between her legs. It was wet, aroused by the naughtiness of her theft. The Rolex watch had been a good appetizer, but her greedy cunt was drooling for more. It wanted the main course– her fingers or a cock.

She rubbed her clit, circling and pressing into it until she arched her back and sent a silent scream to the roof.

As she panted, she leaned against the walls.

More. I need more.

– • –

She browsed through one of the aged magazines that she found on the bedside table. The thing seemed to be about a decade old. Her page-flipping came to a stop when she found a map of the world. She dragged a finger through all the countries she had already preyed in. Eventually, she was led to the continent of Africa.

“Cienfuegos.”

The single word held a lot of meaning.

Somewhere in the continent was a hidden Kingdom ruled by a God of Death that was abolished from Hell. According to Farrah’s sources, Cienfuegos was populated by hundreds, if not thousands of dragon shifters.

“Now, how much would the world pay for evidence that dragons exist?” she mused.

It was a fair question, one that she wasn’t sure if it was worth answering. She always tried to stay low to avoid the Moon Goddess. Sniffing around Blaze’s territory was a sure way of flagging her maker’s attention.

Was Cienfuegos worth risking it all?

She squeezed the forty-thousand dollar watch in her first.

Yes.

A familiar buzz of excitement started to vibrate throughout her. Her mind had decided her next assignment, and her body was ready to execute it.

She shot out of bed and packed the few belongings that she had brought from the states. It only took her a few minutes to gather it all. She had a few thousand dollars to get her out of France but had no idea where exactly Cienfuegos was hiding.

It looked like she would have to call in a few favors.

– • –

It took a week of sorting through her sources to pin-point the Kingdom. She took off immediately, desperate to dip her claws into the adventure.

Cienfuegos was hidden in the belly of a beast. It was tucked behind coarse wilderness. Farrah had to sleep under the stars and walk under the disapproving sun for two days before she finally found the jackpot.

She raised her camera and snapped many pictures of Cienfuego’s perimeter. There were no markings that warned onlookers away, but she could sense a strong energy that did the job just fine.

She walked around for miles, trying to find a way in. Instead of an entrance, she was granted something much more interesting.

There, beside a tall oak, stood a man. He was watching, listening, preying, just like she was.

As stealthily as the wind, she placed her camera down and retrieved a knife from her pouch. After making sure that her boots were tied, she began the dance of dominance.

She tip-toed toward the man, lifted the knife, and pounced.

As she laid flat on her back with a firm hand over her mouth and deep eyes glaring down at her, she realized her mistake. This wasn’t a man; it was a machine.

PART 3

The machine took a second to glance at her discarded camera, and she took that one flicker of his eyes as an opening to retaliate. Her teeth invaded his palm, while her hips swung to get him off.

His hand left her mouth and moved to her ankle, clutching onto it and pulling so she fell stomach-first to the ground. Knowing that she needed to get the upper hand, she kicked her free leg. It almost reached its target– that tanned neck of his, but he caught hold of that ankle too.

Farrah had to give it to the human– he was good.

Who was this guy?

The answer didn’t matter. She’d play the hero by capturing him and offering him to Blaze in exchange for some diamonds. She would end up walking away with pockets full of jewels and a camera stocked with pictures.

All she had to do was subdue this human first.

She twisted, balled a fist, and fed it to him. His face flew to the left, but his hands didn’t abandon their grip. Pain ruptured through her head when he pulled her legs toward him and made her slam on her back.

She barely managed to hold back a growl. The man was getting in the way of her success. The temptation to increase her strength itched, but she held back. This man was a human, and she’d warrant permanent damage if she lost her control.

Just as she tensed her thighs to swing up, rusting behind them interrupted their dance.

Shit!

If she got caught here with a camera, things wouldn’t look too well for her. Blaze was extremely protective of his people. He would toss in jail and melt the key if he found out her intentions.

To her unfortunate luck, two men appeared. The human released her immediately, standing up and sizing up the competition.

“Greed,” one of the men sneered.

“I see I’m quite famous around here,” she smiled, swatting her now dirty pants.

It didn’t surprise her that Blaze’s men recognized her. Lycans were rare and well known by the werewolf community. This was part of the reason why she only preyed on human men.

“Yes, you are. Welcome to Cienfuegos. Why don’t you let us give you a tour around our cells?”

She cursed her luck. She couldn’t shift and make a run for it, not when a human was around. The last thing she needed was pissing off the Werewolf Council.

Her camera laid guiltily on the ground, providing all the evidence needed to make Blaze lose it. If she got arrested, she’d have to go through hell to get released.

Her charm would do her no good. These men knew she wasn’t an innocent woman, but flesh and bones covered in invisible blood.

Weighing her options, she held her wrists out for the taking.

As she stood there, waiting to be reduced to a prisoner, she took in the man she had been locked in battle with. His hair was cut military short, and his tanned skin was covered by a hunter green shirt and cargo pants.

A big knife hung from his waist, and a thick coating of mud crusted his boots. There was no doubt in her mind that the human was a spy of some sort. Finding out his story was tempting, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. Her main priority was getting untangled from this mess.

A thick rope bound her wrists, tying her deeper into the situation. She examined the dragon that was taking her freedom. “And your name is?” she pressed.

His eyes flickered to hers, lacking compassion. “Xie.”

“I will go willingly, but I will not be answering any questions.”

Farrah turned to face the spy. He was standing with his forearms held out, cooperating just like she was.

The other dragon that arrived with Xie eyed the belt around his hips. “Lose the belt,” he ordered.

Slowly as if not to cause suspicion, the human unlatched his belt, let it drop to the floor, and then took a long step away from it.

Within seconds, he was tied behind the same rope. He stood frozen, lacking the passion he had shown her. She didn’t understand why he didn’t try to run or fight. Something was off about the guy.

With a grip of her elbow, Xie began guiding her toward the discarded camera. He picked up her demise and then resumed pulling her toward her coffin– Cienfuegos.

They walked through the face of the sun and the hair of the Earth for many more minutes. Plants poked her skin from all directions, but they were nothing in comparison to the stabbing of her frustration. She was too close to losing. If Blaze got his hands on her, her streaks of successes would meet their end.

Xie led them out of the thick wilderness, guiding them into a hidden ditch that led to darkness and finally a maze of cells. She didn’t fight him when he pushed her behind bars, knowing the consequences of shifting and revealing your form to a human.

She turned around when two heavy footsteps rang out and found none other than the mysterious spy. He maintained eye contact with her for only a second before facing Xie.

“I think it would be best to assign me my own cell.”

His smooth voice was clear of fear and confusion. The composure further incriminated him of knowing something.

Xie locked the cell door. “This isn’t a hotel, buddy.”

The general left, leaving the cellmates with the bars that surrounded them and the dampness of the air.

Her mysterious opponent stood straight, spread his legs two feet apart, clasped his hands behind his back, and then stared at the exit.

She was right in assessing that there was something mechanical about him. His composure was like one of a trained soldier– so perfect that it wasn’t humane.

He looked unreachable, so cold that her charm couldn’t penetrate the ice.

Is he unreachable?

Deciding that she needed something to kill time with, she figured she should find out.

She inhaled deeply, trying to dismiss her warrior side and bring forth her most dangerous script– the damsel in distress.

When she decided that she was ready, she tossed herself into the back of the man. He turned instantly, capturing her before she fell to the floor.

“My... my head,” she groaned, her polished acting skills delivering the message perfectly.

The machine kept her in his arms, and she barely managed to hide her smile.

It looks like this will be easier than expected.

PART 4

It looks like this will be easier than expected.

As soon as the thought crossed her, she was released and stormed by two clouds of coldness. His hooded eyes rained boredom down on her, insulting her in the most bashing way.

“Your injury is not my problem. Stay away from me, woman.”

Their eye contact was disconnected when he turned and resumed his stance.

Dismissed. Ignored. Forgotten. 

She gasped with outrage. This wasn’t right. Her beauty deserved the admiration of his irises. She didn’t belong hidden behind the broadness of any man’s back.

What is wrong with this male? She had whimpered and fallen into his arms like a helpless damsel. She had set up the stage perfectly– expertly!

She had followed this script so many times, and his reaction was a rarity. 

There must be something wrong with him, something that’s blocking his interest. Is he already in love with someone else? Perhaps not interested in women?

The issue had to come from him. Not ner– never her, because she was perfect.

“But I–”

“Shut up.”

Greed’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, threatening to spill control and blood.

This situation just wouldn’t do. She fed off attention, praise, and victory. To be stuck in a cell with a prey she couldn’t feast on was a worse punishment than Hell.

She stood up from the ground as proudly as she could, took a seat on a corner, and tried to swallow down the bitterness in her throat.

The deafening silence stretched on for hours and eventually days. Xie and Onyx appeared around the clock to bring them food. Her cellmate refused to answer her questions and stood all day until it was time to sleep.

He’d lay flat on his back by the wall and sleep without making a single sound throughout the night. Then, at 6 AM, he would be up again with his legs spread two feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back.

Farrah was sick of it.

Her beauty was decaying– the lack of showers, toothpaste, and combs poisoning her greatness.

Her punishment reached a pause one humid afternoon when the King of Cienfuegos barged into the dungeons.

“What are you doing here, Greed?” he demanded, his eyes blazing just like his name.

She laughed, throwing some of her blonde hair over a mud-streaked shoulder. “Well, for one thing, I... Is that another lycan I smell?” she licked her lips before locking eyes with a woman that stood beside the King. “What do we have here?”

“Half,” Hope, Blaze’s mate, introduced herself. “Half-lycan.”

Finally, her boredom had met its end.

Greed whistled and leaned closer to the bars that surrounded her. “Half-lycan? Are you Wrath’s kid?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I keep more tabs on Arabella than your daddy. She and I go way back. How is Light, by the way?”

The King seemed to have reached his limit of patience.

“The better question is: what are you doing here?” he interjected.

“You won’t get anything out of her,” a new voice declared.

She turned around to face her mute cellmate. She hadn’t heard words leave his lips in days and had almost forgotten the raspiness of his monotone voice.

“You’re a werewolf,” Blaze pointed out.

The declaration nearly made Farrah’s neck snap out of place when she turned to face Blaze.

A werewolf? He wasn’t a human, but a werewolf?

Joy swelled in her like a sun. 

Of course! This explains it all! 

He was immune to her power because he was a werewolf and knew her identity. He had heard of the stories, so he could see past her mask.

She hadn’t lost her touch. She was still a golden temptress.

“Is he?” she smirked, throwing herself into the werewolf’s arms and burying her nose in his neck. She was too high off happiness to care about the consequences.

He forced her off him, frowning deeply.

Farrah smirked. “I can’t smell anything. You must be using something to cover your scent,” she deduced.

Blaze sighed with frustration. “If you don’t tell me what happened within the next five Earthly seconds, I’ll turn this cage into an oven,” he swore.

She gave him his answers, and the King left soon later, leaving her alone with the werewolf.

“You got me good,” she admitted as she circled him. “I wasn’t expecting this, but it makes sense.”

His brown eyes flickered from the bars to her own, empty as they always were. “Even if I was human and didn’t know of your identity, I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Oh yeah?” she laughed. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re empty, unable to complement any man in a relationship. There’s nothing to you but flesh.” 

Her fists trembled as her emotional palace began to crumble.

With a harsh inhale, she said, “you just say that because you’ve heard the stories of lycans.”

He dragged his eyes from the top of her head to her feet– though not in the lusting way men tended to do. This was a scan of not the flesh, but her very soul.

When he returned his attention back to the bars and stood in the same infuriating way he always did, she threw herself against the bars and began to beat them.

“Let me out of here!”

–

The jingling of keys woke her up the next morning. She rolled over and found a strange man. He offered no words or gazes before walking away and leaving the door ajar.

Farrah was fine with that.

She dashed past the door, not looking back.

Her mouth was dry, and her skin was crawling. She was pulsing with the need to dominate a man again.

She pushed past the trees, running for her sanity.

An explosion of pain in her head appeared like a wall, blocking her escape. She dropped like a bag of potatoes, barely making out the face of her cellmate before blacking out.

PART 5

Getting involved with Cienfuegos was the mistake of the decade.

Farrah figured as much once she sat up, and found herself entrapped by walls again.

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was being set free from Blaze’s prison, running for it, and getting her consciousness smacked out of her.

She reached a hand to the back of her head in search of damage. There was a small bump there, but she could tell that it was almost fully healed.

Who did this?

She stood up and moved her hand to the white wall, noticing how it contrasted against her dirty hand. It was then that she collected just how filthy she had become. Oil and dirt had contaminated her once smooth hair. Sweat glued her clothes to her skin and scratches polluted her silky skin.

She hated this state. She was ugly, powerless. 

“Hey!” she called out panicky.

She needed to shower, and then to manipulate the first rich bastard she came across. She didn’t belong behind bars, wasting away as she sat in her own filth.

“Get me out of here!”

How did she get in here in the first place? She could tell she was no longer in Blaze’s cells. Someone had taken her elsewhere; had the audacity to disrupt her plans.

“Let me go, or–”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

She rose to her tippy toes, trying to look out of the small window on the door. She sought out the voice of the male she just heard, but only got an eyeful of more maddening white walls.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she warned.

Her true colors had begun to ooze out of her pores. She had been cornered for too long, thirsted from thrill for too many days.

“We know who you are, lycan. You don’t intimidate us. You’re the weakest of us all,” another man guffawed.

She looked in his direction but was unable to make eye contact with the rude bastard.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re in The Cave. Now shut the hell up.”

The Cave.

No. Impossible. She had done nothing serious enough to get thrown into the werewolf world’s highest security prison. She never hurt the human men she messed with, only left them empty-pocketed and unconscious.

Her hobby wasn’t criminal enough to get get a ticket into The Cave. Was this Blaze’s doing? Had the king used his connections to thoroughly screw her over?

She stepped away from the door, feeling the walls shrink. 

This was a bad position to be in– a dangerous one. If the Werewolf Council got upset enough, the only source of light her skin would ever feel again would be the one emitting from the lightbulbs above.

There would be no more disguises, galas, and thieving for her. 

Bangs and thuds terrorized the cell once she began to slam her body against the door. She was feral, desperate, hungry.

“I’m trying to sleep!”

“Hey!”

“Someone put this whore out of her misery!”

She ignored the men’s complaints, shifting into her lycan form and increasing her attack against the door. The metal remained loyal to its purpose, refusing to bend or scratch.

She continued to serenade the other prisoners with clashes and thumps, determined to dig herself out.

Footsteps approached, and a small circular device was tossed through the bars. She turned to look at it and instantly threw an arm over her face when it began to secrete a yellow gas. It invaded her nostrils in no time, spreading a sedative into her body and subduing her fight. 

She was helpless against the technology. Coughs wreaked havoc on her chest, and consciousness began to slip from her grasp like sand.

She refused to give back into the darkness.

When she heard the sound of the door creaking, she realized that her captors had made the mistake of assuming she was down.

Through her blurry vision, she saw a man dressed in black approach. She remained still, only swiping her claws when he got close enough.

Red sprayed, and so did the guard’s scream.

She stumbled toward the door and growled out her fury when two more guards entered the cell. They were on her within seconds and shoving a needle into her neck.

A taste of my own medicine.

She fell down, unable to resist the darkness any longer.

“Fucking finally,” she heard a prisoner celebrate just as she vanished.

–

“Damn it,” she croaked.

Her forehead was against a cold table, and her back ached from the uncomfortable position. She sat up and instantly recognized the sound of metal rattling.

She was chained to the chair.

She snarled and pulled at the restraints, tired of this nonsense. She had done nothing worthy of this degrading punishment.

More white walls surrounded her, making her wonder if it was more appropriate to label The Cave place as an asylum than a prison.

“I demand a legal representative!” she cried out. The medical gown that covered her slipped off a shoulder, and her dirty hair swung around.

The door to her left opened, and the breath in her lungs puffed past it when she made eye contact with the visitor.

It was him, the infuriating spy she met in Cienfuegos. His attire was completely different. His body was encased by a suit while his face wore the same expression it always did.

“You...” she seethed.

“You may call me Agent Lloyd, I represent the Werewolf Council. I’m here to give you a briefing of your case. For trespassing onto the protected territory of King Blaze with the intention of espionage and assaulting one of our employees, the Council has found you guilty of both counts. You are to spend four months in The Cave. Do you have any questions?”

She stared at him, the lip between her lips bleeding and the chains around her wrists hurting her flesh.

She wanted to skin the man.

Four months in The Cave? She wouldn’t have it!

“No! You have no right to do this to me! I want a trial!”

“Your request for a trial is hereby denied. The evidence against you is too strong to be refuted by any defenses. You will reside in the lower level of The Cave and be given–”

“The lower level?” she interjected.

While The Cave contained a hundred or so prioners that were facing a life sentence or execution, the lower level contained the top ten most dangerous criminals.

“Why am I being sent to your dirtiest shithole?” she demanded.

“You are immortal, Greed. The lower level has unpenetrable security. We are taking no chances with you.”

“I am going nowhere but outside! Let me talk to Blaze!”

To hell with their verdict. She was a fine lady, not an uncouth beast. She had no place in The Cave.

The thought of spending four months in this forsaken place was maddening. She couldn’t survive within darkness for so long. The ability to prey on men was like oxygen to her.

No. This wouldn’t do at all. She had to escape.

PART 6

She made demands, issued threats, asked questions, but none of her attempts keyed her handcuffs open.

Agent Lloyd dragged her down to the lower level. Every step that they took sounded like a falling coin. Her treasure– the thousands of dollars she had safely stored on the outside, was getting further and further away.

She'd rather be sentenced to death than spend four months in the lower level. Without her makeup, gowns and prey to choose from, life wasn't worth living.

Her greatest joy just so happened to be her weakness– freedom.

It took Agent Lloyd and two guards to pull her seizing body into an elevator, which was unsurprisingly white. She was so sick of seeing that valueless color. She craved to see the warm yellow of the sun.

The elevator doors opened and presented ten cells. There were no chandeliers, velvet curtains, or marble flooring. There was no delicacy of design anywhere, but just more white walls. This place looked like an untouched canvas.

Instead of servants, this place offered endless guards. She saw them everywhere as she was dragged toward the cell that looked more like a coffin.

"Get your hands off me! Now!"

"Fighting will not help your case," Lloyd warned.

"I have connections in high places. You'll regret this! I will ruin you and the rest of the council," she swore as she struggled.

By the Moon Goddess above, she could barely recognize herself. Her voice– which she had trained to sound like a sweet whisper, had gotten drowned by the tar that was desperation. She sounded like a cornered dog, vicious and dangerous.

"Let me remind you that anything you say can and will be used against you."

"Release me!"

"Oh– there's a new one!" a dramatically high pitched male voice yelled. She could tell that it came from one of the cells, but couldn't see the owner of the voice because the walls were solid.

"Guys, guys! There's a new one! Oh, a new one. Yes, yes," the same maddened man said.

"Go to sleep, Tiny!" a female voice– another prisoner, threw from her cell.

Lloyd took Farah's moment of distraction to pull the door open and shove her inside. The door was slammed shut before she could regain her balance.

"Turn around and approach the door. I will remove your handcuffs," Lloyd ordered from the outside.

She complied, hearing a small compartment on the door slide open before Lloyd's keys unlocked her handcuffs. She turned around and the compartment door slid shut. She tried to pry it open, but it refused to obey.

Her fists beat on the door as if it were Lloyd's face, and her mouth attempted to do the same damage by cursing him to the red heart of hell.

"That's not nice! Not nice, not nice!" she heard that demented prisoner comment.

"Shut up!" she screamed in his direction, wishing she could see him and communicate her hatred with a glare.

"I have a better idea."

Low volume of voice, deep baritone. Male.

"Why don't both of you shut it?"

Alpha.

This prisoner– her neighbor, was an alpha.

"That's not nice, X. You're naughty. Naughty, naughty, bad. Bad X. You're bad, and that's why you're here. No good. No," Tiny ranted.

She fell to the floor, wishing her ears could fall off as well. She was going to lose her mind in this Goddess-forsaken shithole. She would waste away beside these lowlives for four months until she was a ranting mess just like Tiny.

She could hear the mad man continue his raving even through her palms, which were squeezing her head. There was no escape from this punishment.

Time stretched along with Tiny's rambling. He jumped from one subject to another within seconds, making nearly no sense.

She had no idea what time it was when an automated voice interrupted Tiny's fiftieth story.

"The time is now one post meridiem. The cell walls will be receding. Standby."

Farrah watched the walls slice, the technology allowing them to shrink down to bars.

Loud clapping came from Tiny's direction. She turned to face him, finally getting a chance to see the monster behind her torture.

Tiny was anything but. Although he was sitting on his bed, she could tell that he was a tall man. His body wasn't particularly muscular.

He jumped to the bars, waving frantically at her. His hair was longer in the front, resting by his ebrow.

"What the hell?" she blurted.

"I'm Tiny! Well, not really Tiny. I'm Kairo, but I like Tiny better. Tiny is funny. Tiny means–"

"Kairo," she repeated. "I know you. You set your family on fire."

The man was well-known by the werewolf community. She was sure that she knew the other nine inmates as well. There was a reason why they were in the lower level of The Cave. They had committed atrocities nearly worthy of a lycan title.

"No!" Tiny burst. "That's a lie!"

A harsh laugh cut through her. "If the council didn't believe you, what makes you think I will?"

"No! Lie! No!" 

He began to pace, his cheeriness getting stomped by his angry steps.

"Are you upset?" she asked with a cruel smile. 

"Don't do that."

The throaty voice of the alpha made a comeback. Farrah threw her face to the right, unable to deny him the attention that his presence demanded.

She finally got a look at the man that Tiny called X. He was lying on his bed, naked and unbothered by her exploratory eyes.

Strong, tall, thick.

If his voice didn't convince you of his position, then his body sure would. No animal on the food chain looked like this unless it was designed for greatness.

She eyed his proud cock, wondering if the naked man was as insane as Tiny.

"Why are you naked?"

His chest revved with a chuckle.

"I'm trapped in my skin and by six walls. Why would I want to jail myself within clothing as well?"

Yeah. He's insane.

She looked away from him, getting another look at Tiny, who was still pacing.

"You lie," he threw at her.

"Are you going to come and set me on fire?" she laughed.

The whimper of a wounded soul left Tiny. He slumped against a wall, and before Farrah could process what just happened, a loud bang scattered her thoughts. She turned back to the alpha, pressing a hand against her spooked chest.

There was a storm of biblical proportions within those eyes of his. His irises were dark– as dark as his voice and the hair that crowned his head and cock.

"Look at what you've done," he growled.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, refusing to kneel down to any man. "He'll be fine. Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Leave Tiny alone. He may be many things, but a liar is not one of them."

How dare he? How dare a man try to lecture me? I'm immortal, and he's a dethroned alpha. 

"I'm not afraid of you."

He grinned, presenting white teeth that matched the walls.

"I know you're not, lycan. You're cloaked by your skin, clothes, cell, and immortality."

"That's right," she acknowledged, raising her head haughtily.

She was above all alphas. Time couldn't touch her, and neither could death.

X crooked his head, dragging his eyes from her feet to her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips proudly, convinced that she was a queen sitting on top of the food pyramid.

"Your curse makes you immortal, but not immune to pain," he drew out. "You can either learn your place here or how many bones I can break until you're a sack of dust. The choice is yours."

Farrah watched him walk back to his bed.

She was now cloaked by her skin, clothes, cell, immortality, and fury.