Alpha Benji

♕Chapter Two♕

 ♕Gwen (Pictured, not her POV)♕

The cells were buzzing with noise. The banging of the iron gates echoed in the halls, mixing with the sounds of animalistic growls. The only other time I had seen the cells so chaotic was when they had thrown the remnants of my pack down here after the raid.

"What's going on?!" I asked, the alarm clear in my voice as I pushed myself to my feet.

Gwen didn't answer right away, her eyes darting back and forth. She pushed herself past me to the edge of our cell, peering down the hallway to get a better look at the commotion.

"It's cleaning day."

I jumped slightly at Mary's voice, still not used to hearing her speak. Mary was a small girl who usually kept to herself. Gwen had mentioned that she was from her pack, but besides that I didn't know much about her. She was in the same cell as Gwen and I, as well as an older women who didn't speak the best English.

"What do you mean?"

Mary frowned, wrapping her arms around her frail figure as she still remained on the floor unmoving. "They do it whenever they raid a new pack. They need to make room for new people in the cells. So they, well, clean up."

"Clean up? What the hell does that mean?" I asked, the panic rising in my chest. I turned my attention back to Gwen who had redirected her attention back to the pair of us. "Gwen, is that true?"

She hesitated a second before nodding her head. "I didn't think they would do it so soon. But your pack had a lot of a survivors." She whispered, nibbling on the finger pad of her thumb. "Just c'mon," She grabbed my upper arm, steering us to the back corner of our cell where we usually slept. "It's best to just stay in the back of the cells and not provoke them."

I followed Gwen's directions, standing next to her in the shadow of the wall. I shifted my weight, ignoring the ache of my muscles, sore from disuse. "How do they pick who to...clean up?" I swallowed the lump in my throat as I spoke.

I had a sick feeling that 'cleaning up' had a different meaning than offering them a nice shower and fresh pair of trousers.

"Depends," She whispered, shrugging her shoulders. "They usually round up the injured ones first. Throw in the troublemakers they don't like. If they still need more people, well...just don't provoke them, alright? They may come into the cells and poke around. Keep your head down and we should be fine."

I don't trust my voice to speak. I settled on nodding my head slowly, clenching and unclenching my fists to release some anxious energy. I couldn't help but notice the look of worry that crossed Gwen's face. I knew why too – I wasn't an asset to them.

They cataloged what we had to 'offer' – as they worded it – when we came in the cells. Your rankings, your skills, your previous job...they knew it all. They were more likely to keep a skilled fighter or a previous pack doctor than some scrawny twenty-year old who can barely shift.