Olive the Other Werewolves

Chapter Thirty

The events that transpired next happened in a frightening blur.

Matteo recognized the predicament we found ourselves in and as an attempt to keep us all alive, he surrendered willingly.

I realized how great of an alpha he was in that moment because I could tell that every fiber of his being was screaming at him to stand up and fight. But he didn't.

He wasn't alone anymore, there were more lives at stake than just his own and he accepted this. Matteo allowed himself be cuffed and then in quick succession the rest of us were restrained in a similar fashion.

The second that the cuffs touched everyone else's skin, their faces were warped in pain. They must be silver cuffs but strangely enough, the metal was having no effect on me. Sure they were uncomfortable like any pair of cuffs would be I assumed, but nowhere near the burning pain that the rest of our group seemed to be experiencing.

Devin was outfitted with a bizarre spiked wooden collar of sorts around his neck, I had never seen anything like it. The spikes faced inward and pressed against his pale skin, I knew stakes were lethal to his kind but I didn't know wood in general was a deterrent.

After we were all handcuffed individually to Samson's smug satisfaction, he linked us horizontally together with a single chain so we were all strung along together. Even more silver with still no effect on me, at this point I was starting to become a little concerned and unfortunately I wasn't the best at hiding my emotions.

Right as Samson gave the command for us to get moving, one of his men seemed to notice my lack of response to the silver as well.

"Oi," He called out, suddenly standing in front of me effectively preventing me from walking. "The silver's not working on this one, Sam!"

Samson froze mid step, slowly pivoting around to face us. "What do you mean the silver isn't working?" He grit out through clenched teeth and then stalked over to me.

He yanked the loose chain up to his face, before quickly dropping it as the toxic metal seared into his skin. "It's definitely working alright."

Which brought him to the only other logical conclusion. If it wasn't the silver that was dysfunctional, I must be the problem here.

Samson narrowed his eyes and leaned in close to me, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. "She certainly smells funny," he commented suspiciously before his eyes landed on my mark on my neck, "Definitely a were though, get a load of that mark!"

He shoved the hair from my neck and pushed my face to the side so his men could get a better look at my festering mark. I heard Matteo growl a few feet away from me, clearly regretting surrendering in this moment.

"It looks like it's rotting!"

"I'm gonna puke."

"I've never seen a mark look like that before."

A few of the more memorable comments from the chaotic chorus of disgust that rang out after Samson brought it to everyone's attention.

I knew my mark was bad but I didn't know it looked that awful. When Samson finally removed his hand from my face, I immediately looked over to Matteo, searching his face for some kind of rational explanation. He shook his head and held and lifted his cuffed hands to his face, holding a single finger to his lips.