T H E D U N G E O N

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~ Chapter Fourteen ~

Red stared into the fire.

Valdemar stood behind him, as quiet and cunning as ever. His eyes were firmly kept on his visitor's fists, pulsating with tension by his thighs. Something was the matter, and he suspected it had to do with his sudden appearance in his territory after five years of silence. It had been too long, indeed. Although he'd grown into a respectful man, and a fierce warrior judging by the state of Valdemar's younglings, he didn't know whether he could trust him anymore.

After all, he'd become an alpha. And alphas would betray in a heartbeat to further their packs — Valdemar would know, he'd done it before.

"Say, Red, you're very quiet. I thought you'd have much to tell... My pups say that you travel with a human in tow."

"Your pups are unpredictable, and disrespectful," he responded short.

Valdemar let out a hoarse chuckle. "They're young. And they've been dealt with — although I must ask you to forgive them. Remember how we were? Half the forest had us banned from their lands!"

"I was young. You were older. You should've stopped me."

"And why would I do that? You were always destined for great things. I knew that the first time I met you — you still hold the fiercest survival instincts I've ever seen." He quieted then let out a disapproving hum and sat down in one of the chairs overlooking the fire. He leant his chin against his hand with a mind gone in memories. "Now that brother of yours. He never had it in him. If you hadn't insisted on taking care of him then he would've never made it."

"Stop." Red cocked his head to the side. "Do not speak of him. He's in the past."

"Oh, please. You've always had a soft spot for him." Valdemar knew he was pushing buttons but also couldn't stop himself as he delivered the final blow. "It's a bad habit from your childhood. You always take care of weak creatures better left to their own devices."

His mind went to the poster on Liz's wall. "Like runts," he murmured.

Valdemar frowned. "Well, yes — your brother was a runt, after all. They rarely make it."

"That's the point."

"What?"

Red spun around, pinned the old wolf with intense eyes. "That's the point!"

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea. But I have to go."

"And do what—"

"Sleep."

"Sleep... Have you gone mad? Red!"

He slammed the door behind him with such force that three stories below him, in a basement encapsulated by iron, a pair of twitchy eyes shot to the ceiling.

Liz froze for a few seconds, wondering if it was a gunshot she'd heard, but then adamantly returned to scraping rust off the metal bars using her nails. It was tedious work, but it was all she could do in the cell containing only a bucket and a mattres stained with something red.

She was crammed with a dozen others — some hung on the bars, some were curled up against the walls of their cells, all in bad condition — but the only thing she heard from them were occasional coughs and wails. They all kept to their own cells.

Except the old man in the one next to hers.

"You're human," he marveled, flashing a smile telling he'd probably been there for a while. He'd wrapped his fingers around the bars and stuck his face between one of the gaps.

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