Nathan's POV
It had been two days since I was locked up in this dark, damp cell, chained like an animal. No one had come to see me—no one except the guards who delivered my meager meals once a day.
With a heavy sigh, I leaned my back against the cold stone wall, closing my eyes as my thoughts drifted. My life had changed so drastically, all because of Derrick—the man who was supposed to be dead. His return had shattered everything I once knew.
I thought back to when I was the son of Alpha Steven, respected and feared. My life had been easy, filled with privilege and power. But now? Now, I was nothing more than a slave—a mere sex slave to Derrick. The very thought made my stomach twist, a mix of rage and something else I refused to name.
I thought of Derrick and the strange feelings his hands on me gave me, which were unreal. I had never been with a man. Although I had been with a handful of women who usually threw themselves at me, not once had I ever been with a man—until Derrick came, until he claimed me in a way no man ever had… claimed me.
The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine, though I wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else—something I refused to acknowledge. I clenched my fists, hating how weak I had become, how powerless I felt in the face of him. I was Nathan, son of Alpha Stephen. I was once respected, admired, even feared. And now?
Now, I was shackled like an animal, stripped of my pride, my dignity.
I should hate him.
I do hate him.
But then why does my body betray me when he touches me?
I let out a bitter laugh, my head falling back against the cold stone wall. The truth was, I didn't understand what was happening to me. The way Derrick looked at me, the way his hands roamed my body like he owned me—it infuriated me. And yet, beneath all that anger, there was something else, something dark and shameful curling inside me.
A sound at the door made my body tense. My heart pounded against my ribs as the heavy lock turned, the iron scraping against metal. The door creaked open, and two guards walked in.
"Get up," they ordered.
I was confused, wondering where they were taking me, but when they saw that I was hesitating, they yanked me up from the floor through my arms and dragged me out of the cell. I wanted to struggle against them, but it was of no use, so I allowed them to pull me to wherever they wanted. The worst that could happen was death, and I was so ready for it.
The guards dragged me out of the dungeon and into the outside world.
Blinding sunlight assaulted my eyes after days in darkness, forcing me to squint. My vision blurred as I adjusted, taking in my surroundings. The yard was filled with prisoners—filthy, exhausted men breaking their backs under the weight of hard labor. The scent of sweat, dirt, and freshly cut wood hung in the air, mixed with the distant growls and grunts of those being pushed past their limits.
The guards didn't say a word as they shoved me forward. My legs wobbled from days of being caged, but I refused to stumble. I refused to show weakness, even if that was all I had left.
"Here," one of them barked, tossing an axe at my feet. The metal gleamed under the sun, the wooden handle worn from years of use. "Get to work."
I looked at the massive pile of logs in front of me and then down at my bound hands. "With chains?" I scoffed. "Are you expecting me to be efficient, or is this just another way to humiliate me?"
The nearest guard sneered. "You're not here to be efficient, slave. You're here to suffer."
Anger flared in my chest, but I swallowed it down. Lashing out wouldn't do me any good. Not now. Instead, I crouched, picking up the axe with difficulty, my restricted movements making it awkward to hold. My muscles protested, stiff from days of being chained, but I tightened my grip and lifted the weapon.
The first swing was clumsy, barely grazing the thick log. The guards chuckled behind me, clearly entertained by my struggle. I gritted my teeth and tried again. And again. I might not have a wolf, but hell, I wasn't weak. I had gone through years of training, combat.
A silly thought crossed my mind. I thought of using this axe to free myself. It would take just one hit, and the chains on my wrists and legs would be broken.
But after that, what next?
I could take down these two guards easily. But what about the others stationed at the gates? The ones patrolling the mansion? I wouldn't make it far before they cut me down.
So, I did the only thing I could. I swung the axe, chopping wood like an obedient slave.
With each swing, my arms burned, sweat dripping down my face. My body screamed in protest, but I refused to stop.
"Keep working, twink," one of the guards mocked.
I froze. My grip tightened around the axe as I turned to glare at him. "What did you just call me?"
He scoffed and moved closer to me. "I called you a twink. I heard you are now Alpha Derrick's new sex toy. Tell me, how does it feel to have him inside of you?" he taunted.
My entire body went rigid. My grip on the axe tightened, the veins in my arms straining against the bindings.
The guard smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. "What's the matter, slave?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Did I strike a nerve? Or do you actually like being on your knees for him?"
A feral growl rumbled from my throat.
The axe in my hands felt heavy, not just from the weight of the metal but from the temptation. I could bury it in the bastard's skull, watch as the smugness drained from his eyes, as fear replaced the arrogance.
But then what?
I would be dead before the body hit the ground.
So I forced myself to turn away, gripping the axe so tightly that my body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from barely restrained fury.
I wanted to kill him.
I wanted to drive this axe straight into his skull, watch the light leave his eyes, hear the sickening crunch of bone beneath my rage.
But I didn't.
Because I wasn't a fool.
Killing him wouldn't free me—it would only put me in a worse position. Derrick would punish me, and I didn't want that.
So, I did the only thing I could. I swung the axe again, focusing all my anger into the wood in front of me. The blade bit deep this time, splitting the log clean in half.
The guard laughed behind me. "Oh? Did I touch a nerve, slave?" He stepped closer, his boots crunching against the dirt. "Tell me, does it feel good? Having Alpha Derrick inside you? Do you beg for him at night?"
My vision blurred red.
I moved before I could think.
Spinning on my heel, I swung the axe—not at his head, though every cell in my body screamed for it. No, I aimed for his leg.
The sharp edge of the blade sliced through his thigh, and a choked scream tore from his throat. He collapsed onto the dirt, clutching the wound as blood spilled between his fingers.
The other guard cursed, drawing his sword.
I didn't care.
For the first time in days, I felt alive. I felt like Nathan again.
The moment was short-lived.
A deafening snarl ripped through the air, and I barely had time to react before something slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. My breath whooshed out of my lungs as I hit the dirt, the weight of a body pinning me down.
"Enough."
The voice sent ice through my veins.
I didn't have to see his face to know who it was.
Derrick.
His grip was brutal as he yanked me up by my chains, forcing me onto my knees before him. His green eyes glowed with anger, his canines bared in a warning snarl.
"What did you just do?" he asked in anger.
My frown deepened as I glared at him. It had been two days, and I hadn't seen him, and now, the moment I caused trouble, he appeared out of nowhere.
"I could have split his skull open. He's just damn lucky!" I spat, my voice laced with anger.
Derrick's expression darkened, his eyes flashing dangerously. Then, unexpectedly, he struck me. His palm connecting hard with my jaw, whipping my head to the side. Pain exploded through my face, but I refused to make a sound.
"Bring him," he ordered and Without another glance, he turned and walked away.
Two guards seized me by the arms, dragging me to my feet before hauling me after him.