Luna didn't know what she had expected when Ravhiel mentioned they were heading to the "Breeding Grounds," but this—this wasn't it.
Not even close.
Her breath hitched as the heavy gate creaked open and the stench of sweat, blood, and raw despair hit her all at once. It wrapped around her like a chokehold. Her skin crawled.
She staggered slightly behind Ravhiel, struggling to make sense of the wave of emotions that hit her. She felt suffocated. Not by heat, not by scent—but by grief.
She'd sensed a strange, human-like presence in this part of the den long before they arrived. Dozens, maybe more. Women. Even Rose—the thrall who'd brought her to Ravhiel—had been human.
And now she understood.
They were slaves. Used for breeding.
Her stomach twisted violently.
'Cages… they're kept in cages? Like animals?'
Luna's heart pounded as her eyes scanned the long stretch of wooden enclosures—hastily built pens that barely passed as shelter. Inside, women huddled together like frightened deer, their eyes wide and glassy with tears. Some sobbed silently, others cried out, their voices cracking from exhaustion.
One clutched a bloodied cloth to her chest. Another rocked back and forth, mumbling something incoherent.
And surrounding them—towering werewolf men—were counting. Writing. Observing.
Like cattle.
'They're being tallied.' Luna's hands clenched into fists as her body began to tremble, rage building in her throat like bile.
Then it happened.
"No! No! P-Please... let me go! Please!" a woman shrieked, her arms flailing as a massive man—muscles thick as tree trunks—dragged her from one of the cages. Her legs kicked wildly, her voice hoarse from begging.
"Quiet down," the man growled coldly. "Or I'll drug ya. Which do you prefer?" He pulled a syringe from his belt without blinking. "We ain't gonna do anything to ya yet. The master still needs to check you."
'Master? Check her? What the fuck is happening here?!' Luna's eyes burned. It took everything in her not to shout on instinct.
Her body screamed to lunge. To attack. To tear him apart.
She was furious—and fury was too soft a word for what she felt. No, this was something deeper. Something feral. Wrath.
"Look there, Brutus," another werewolf sneered, nudging the massive man. "It's the she-wolf. You reckon she's here for the master?"
"Tch. Don't care either way," Brutus muttered. "Unless she's about to get impregnated, I got no reason to give a damn."
The man beside him barked out a laugh. "Right you are."
Their words felt like acid against Luna's ears.
'They're talking about me like I'm a fucking object. Like I'm already theirs. Like I don't have a say.'
She could feel the weight of every gaze now. One by one, the guards, the breeders, the damned—they all turned toward her. Curious. Assessing. Possessive. Some were leering. Some calculating.
She tried to steady her breath, but it was shaking.
Then came a voice.
"Y-You! Please… help us! You, girl!"
Luna's head snapped toward one of the cages. A woman—young, maybe only a few years older than her—had thrown herself against the bars, arm outstretched. Her face was wet with tears, her voice raw.
"Please… please, get us out—"
But the moment her eyes locked with Luna's, the woman froze.
Her expression twisted. Horror. Confusion.
"No…" she gasped. "You're just like them."
The words hit harder than a slap.
"I—N-No… I'm not," Luna stammered, taking a shaky step forward. "I'm—"
"Luna."
Ravhiel's voice, gentle yet firm, cut through the chaos.
She blinked, dazed, and turned to see him reaching toward her. His hand landed lightly on her back.
She flinched away instantly.
"D-Don't touch me," she snapped, voice brittle.
Ravhiel pulled his hand back without argument. "My apologies," he said quietly. "But we're close to Rhaevos. Please remember what I told you."
Luna followed his gaze—and her blood went cold.
There he was.
Rhaevos.
The white-haired man from earlier, unmistakable in his presence. Even without seeing his face fully, she felt him. His aura was a thundercloud looming over the den.
He stood beneath an iron awning, skimming over a sheet of parchment—no, not parchment. A list.
The same kind the others were using.
'So he's the one in charge. The one assigning women. Like they're just numbers on a roster.'
Her stomach twisted again.
"Well, well." Rhaevos' voice was deep, smooth, and taunting. He didn't even look up. "Couldn't get enough of me earlier, and now you're paying me a visit? At least take me out for a hunt before you demand I breed you."
He finally looked up—and smirked.
Luna's entire body recoiled. Her breath caught in her throat. If she hadn't been sick before, she was now.
She wanted to speak. To scream. To curse him with every ounce of fury she had left—but Ravhiel stepped forward.
"I was asked to give her a tour," he said calmly, "and the Breeding Grounds is closest to my garden."
Rhaevos' eyes narrowed.
"Did I give you permission to speak to me, Silverwight?" he snarled.
Luna blinked. 'Silverwight?'
She glanced at Ravhiel, who didn't even flinch at the insult.
'Why is he being so rude? No… after everything I've seen, why am I still surprised?'
Ravhiel held Rhaevos' gaze, expression unreadable. "No, Rhaevos," he replied evenly. "I apologize for overstepping. But as you can see, Luna is still… quite shaken. She cannot answer for herself right now."
'Shaken' was putting it lightly.
Luna looked again at the cages.
At the women. The stripped dignity. The sunken eyes. The cracked lips. The broken voices pleading for something—anything—to save them.
The distant, desperate cries of children.
The clipboards. The tally marks.
And that man.
The one who spoke of breeding like it was an afternoon chore.
Her stomach turned so violently it felt like bile would crawl up her throat.
She wasn't prepared. None of this was what she thought it would be.
And being reminded—so directly, so disgustingly—that she herself was now just another piece in this system, someone's tool to breed the next generation… it made her sick.
'This place is a fucking nightmare. These men… they treat women like livestock. And I'm supposed to just be part of it?'
Rhaevos clicked his tongue, visibly annoyed as Ravhiel tried to speak. Then, without warning, he tossed aside the clipboard and strode toward them.
He stopped in front of Ravhiel's wheelchair, eyes glittering with contempt. And then—with a sickening thud—he placed his boot against the footrest and shoved.
Ravhiel's eyes widened in shock as his chair rolled back sharply across the uneven dirt. Luna's head snapped toward him.
"Ravh—!" she started, instinctively moving toward him. But before she could take a step, thick arms coiled around her waist, pulling her back—tight.
A reeking stench flooded her senses. Sweat, blood, something feral. Something wrong.
Rhaevos had wrapped himself around her from behind, like a predator savoring its catch. He buried his face into her neck and inhaled.
"Ohhh," he groaned lowly, voice laced with something too close to ecstasy. "Didn't notice it earlier… but you smell incredible. So much better than those filthy mutts out there. Is that… unique to she-wolves like you?"
Luna's body froze. She writhed in his hold, but his grip was ironclad.
'Don't panic. Don't panic.'
"P-Please," she whispered, barely holding back a tremble, forcing tears to fall from her eyes. "Let me go."
'Before I bite your goddamn throat out.'
Rhaevos chuckled against her ear, his breath foul and hot. "Tears? So you're a crier, huh? Wonder how that plays out in bed. You do know what sex is, right?" He purred. "If not… I can show you. Right here. Right now."
A shiver tore down Luna's spine. Her throat tightened.
'Fuck. No. Get off me.'
She gritted her teeth and clutched his arm, her nails digging into the flesh. "Please. Let me go," she said again, her voice sharper now. Less pleading.
But he didn't care.
"Nuh uh," Rhaevos murmured. "See, Luna, I want to become chief. And I'm pretty sure the first one to put a pup in you? That's the one with the upper hand." His hand began to drift lower—snaking dangerously close to where it had no right to be.
Luna's breath hitched, her body locked in place.
'Touch me there and I will kill you.'
"Rhaevos, stop," Ravhiel's voice came, strained but clear. He had returned, rolling himself back, worry etched on his face. "She's clearly—"
But Luna had had enough.
Rage surged through her—white-hot and untamable. Without thinking, she clenched Rhaevos' arm with all the strength she had. She twisted with a sharp, practiced motion.
A sickening pop echoed—and Rhaevos growled, stumbling back as he released her.
"FUCK!" he snarled.
Luna staggered, but Ravhiel was there—fast enough to catch her before she hit the mud. He cradled her with surprising gentleness, pulling her close.
"I've got you," he murmured. "Are you alright, Luna?"
She barely heard him. Her eyes were locked on Rhaevos.
The smug, leering bastard from earlier was now clutching his arm—and it was bruised. Her handprint was clearly visible on his skin, deep and purple like he'd been struck by steel.
Rhaevos stared at it, then at her.
"No one…" he hissed, eyes gleaming, voice shaking with fury, "No one has ever bruised me like this. Do you know who I am?! I'm precious!"
His voice, once sultry and mocking, now cracked with unhinged rage. His body trembled. His form began to shift—fur sprouting at the base of his neck, claws elongating.
'Gross.'
Ravhiel immediately rolled in front of Luna, putting himself between her and the now partially transforming werewolf.
"Stay back," he warned softly, his voice calm but firm.
But before anything could escalate, a booming voice cut through the tension.
"Master?"
Brutus, the bulky wolf from earlier, approached with the unconscious woman still slung in his arms. He glanced from Rhaevos to Ravhiel, then to Luna.
"…Are you okay?" he asked carefully.
In an instant, Rhaevos straightened up and masked himself.
His twisted smile returned—strained, but practiced. His posture relaxed, as if nothing had happened at all.
"I'm fine," he said breezily, waving his injured arm behind his back. "Just… getting acquainted with our new lady here." His eyes flicked to Luna, gleaming with venom. "I'm sure they're eager to continue their tour."
'He doesn't want anyone to know I did that to him…' Luna realized. 'He's ashamed. Good.'
"Yes," Ravhiel replied, monotone. "We were just leaving. Thank you."
Rhaevos' smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'll see you again later, Luna," he said smoothly.
She didn't answer. She turned and walked away, heart hammering in her chest.
'Fuck you.'
She wanted to scream it in his face, to tear his throat out with her teeth. But she kept walking. Her body stiff, her mind a swirling storm.
Ravhiel followed quietly behind her, giving her space.
'Ha… I just want this tour to end already.' Her fingers clenched into fists. 'I want to get out of here. Out of this hell.'