Runt [ManxMan]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dax did not wake all at once.

He was first aware of a dank smell, vaguely reminding him of wet clothes left out for too long, but with an earthier undertone. Somehow this was not immediately concerning, only strange, at least until combined with the sound of a steady dripping and, further away, panting breaths.

Where was he? He struggled toward awareness, noting the hard flood beneath him and the cold biting at his nude form. This... this was not the pack house, not his warm bed. His body ached, his head pounding hardest of all, but at first he couldn't recall what had happened. Something bad, that was clear, but the details eluded him.

If he was naked, he'd likely been in wolf form before passing out, which was odd as he rarely had the chance to stretch his legs anymore. Sometimes when he had the time to spare for training, but recently it had been almost exclusively on full moons when he ran with the pack, and he knew the full moon had recently passed so that couldn't have been it.

He shot upright, his eyes snapping open to take in his surroundings as his memories flooded bad. The jarring motion sent flares of pain through his body and he winced, pressing a hand to his throbbing head hoping to ease the pain, though only time could cure the symptoms of wolfsbane overdose. How much had been in that needle they'd stabbed him with to put him out so quickly and cause such severe side effects?

And Mason! The last thing the alpha remembered was seeing another needle in the omega's neck and the tiny gray and white wolf collapsing. Where was he? If Dax, the large alpha he was, was feeling such debilitating effects from the size of the dose of wolfsbane in one of those needles, what had it done to the little omega?

He was in a small cell, square and only large enough for him to lay all the way out, so maybe seven feet in either direction. Three walls were hard stone, the fourth thick metal bars stretching from floor to ceiling. This was clearly some sort of prison, though from the state of it he'd say it couldn't be used often, as everything was slightly damp and the bars were mostly brown with rust. The only light came from a small window somewhere on the other side of the bars, and he drug himself closer to them to see what lay outside.

And there, behind another set of bars perhaps four feet from him, was a small, familiar form, curled up on his side facing the alpha, his arms clutched to his chest as he shivered. Mason. This was the source of the panting he'd heard earlier, as the omega fought for breath, his eyes moving quickly behind closed eyelids. They seemed to be sunk further into his face than usual, dark circles in his pale face half hidden by dirty golden-brown hair.

Dax didn't have time to feel too concerned for the omega before the sound of heavy boots drew his attention to the right, where a spiral staircase led up to a higher floor. If he had to guess, Dax would say they were in a basement, which seemed more likely judging from the height of the small, bared window in Mason's cell.

Three people descended the steps into the basement prison, all men. In the dim light from the small window Dax couldn't tell much about them other than the man in the center was a dominant, larger and more commanding than the men on either side, who were both common wolves. He must have been a beta-born then, Dax would have been able to sense if he was another alpha, would have felt the prickling of hairs on the back of his neck standing up and an uncomfortable itching in his bones as his instincts urged him to shift into his more lethal form and fight for dominance. Beta-borns, though also dominant wolves, were seldom threats to an alpha-born like Dax, and his instincts were very aware of this fact.

"He's here, sir," the man to the beta-born's left said, gesturing to the cell where the shivering Mason lay. Dax tensed, but held his tongue. What was their interest in the omega?