Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 38: The Packhouse Cell

VIOLET

The howls began before the moon had fully risen.

They echoed through the forest like ancient war cries—raw, primal, savage. I sat curled on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to my chest, listening as the wind carried them through the cracks in the stone.

Another night of blood.

Another night I wasn’t supposed to survive.

My body ached. Not from wounds, but from change. From whatever it was that had been clawing its way through my veins since the first night under this cursed moon. I hadn’t shifted—I couldn’t. Not fully. But something inside me had.

I felt it stirring even now. Like a second heartbeat. Like a ghost walking just beneath my skin.

The door creaked open without warning.

Inara didn’t come in this time. She only peeked through, her face pale.

"They’ve gone deeper into the woods tonight," she said. "The bloodlust is worse. I heard one of them say Zain broke a rogue’s neck for trying to touch a child."

I blinked. "A rogue, why is there a rogue hunt with Zain.?"

She nodded. "Everything feels different now. The humans are fighting back. Hiding their young. But not all the wolves care."

My stomach twisted.

"They’re calling it the ’purge,’" Inara added softly. "As if it’s some divine right. Alpha’s trying to control them, but even he’s struggling now. The full moon is at its peak tonight. If we make it past this... the madness might break."

If.

The word curled around my throat like a noose.

"Will you stay?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Inara hesitated—then nodded. "Of course."

She entered the room, closed the door, and sat on the floor beside the bed, her head resting back against the stone wall. We said nothing for a long while. Just breathed. Just listened.

The howls changed after midnight. Less like calls. More like screams.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Images flashed through my mind—flames licking through the trees, claws dripping crimson, teeth snapping bones like twigs. None of them were memories. Not mine. But I saw them, just the same. Felt them like echoes in my blood.

I wasn’t part of the hunt.

And yet I was.

The hunger. The instinct. The wrath.

My hands trembled. My skin burned. I pressed my palm to the mark just above my shoulder and felt it pulsing—like it had a mind of its own.

"What if I’m one of them?" I whispered. "What if I was always meant to be?"

Inara looked up at me, her voice quiet but steady. "Then it’s time you find out."

When dawn finally broke, it came quietly—gray and pale and wet with mist.

The howls had stopped.

The screams had faded.

The woods had fallen silent.

The final night of the hunt was over.

And somewhere deep in the cells beneath the packhouse... the survivors waited.

Morning came and I desperately needed to go see for myself who this captured humans were.

My heart pounded brneomu skin as I slipped passed my bedroom door. No guard was in sight, and that worked perfectly fine for me.

I made my way to the east wing, as Inara had directed earlier, locating the spiral dark stairs was not that difficult.

The stone corridor beneath the east wing was colder than I expected. My bare feet made no sound as I slipped past the guards who were either too exhausted from the three-night hunt or too preoccupied with licking their wounds to notice me.

Torches flickered on the walls, their light casting long shadows that danced like phantoms on the damp stone. The scent of blood was heavier down here. Human blood. I swallowed hard, covering my nose with the sleeve of my shirt as I descended deeper.

The first row of cells was empty. Chains dangled from the walls, rusted and clinking faintly in the breeze that shouldn’t exist this deep underground.

But then—

A sound. A cough.

A voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like years.

"Who’s there?"

I froze.

No. It couldn’t be. The same voice I had come to dislike.

"Violet... is that you?"

I turned slowly, heart crashing against my ribs, and stepped toward the last cell on the left.

A man was slumped against the wall, his face bruised and bloodied, but unmistakable. That sandy blond hair. The stubborn jaw. The warm brown eyes that used to make my knees weak.

"Roman?" I gasped.

He looked up, dazed. "Oh my god! You’re... you’re alive!.

"

"What are you doing here?" I breathed, clinging to the bars like they were the only things keeping me upright. "How—why—how did you get caught?"

"I knew you weren’t dead......I was looking for you." His voice cracked.

"Violet, when you disappeared—and the hunters body’s were found in the woods but not yours, everybody thought you were dead but nobody said a word about it. Your father... he nearly gone mad after you left, regretting his decision ever since. And then... then I found one."

I stepped back, shaking my head. "You shouldn’t have come. You should’ve stayed far away from this place."

He coughed again, gripping his ribs. "I couldn’t. I had to see for myself. I had to know if they—if the wolves—had taken you."

My chest twisted. "They did. But it’s more complicated than you think."

Roman’s eyes widened. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No. Not like that."

He looked past me. "Are you alone?"

I nodded. "They don’t know I’m here."

He gripped the bars. "Then help me. Please. Before they come back. They’ve already taken the others.The ones who didn’t run fast enough."

My stomach turned.

"They’re calling it a purge," I whispered.

"Three nights of hunting. And you... you’re one of the survivors."

His eyes locked with mine. "I’m still your fiancé, Violet. I came for you."

That word. Fiancé.

Like a knife in the dark

Before I could speak, footsteps echoed behind me.

And I knew, without turning, who it was.

Zain.

His footsteps thundered down the stairs like he wanted to Tear the place down.

"What the hell are you doing down here?"

His voice sliced through the air like a whip—low, deadly, echoing off the stone walls with the weight of his fury.

I turned slowly.

Zain filled the hallway like a storm about to break. His shirt hung open, blood still dried at the collar, his hair tousled like he hadn’t slept in days. His amber eyes blazed, not just with anger—but with something darker.

Possessiveness. Rage. Need.

"I asked you a question," he growled, striding toward me.

I stood my ground. "I could ask you the same thing. Are you hunting prisoners now too?"

Zain’s jaw ticked. He stopped a breath away from me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Then his gaze slid over my shoulder—to Roman.

His lips curled into something like a snarl. "So this is him."

Roman shifted behind me. "Who the hell are you?"

Zain didn’t even look at him. His eyes never left mine.

"The one keeping her alive," he said darkly.

"The one who you stupid humans sent off to her death without batting an eyelid."

"I didn’t need saving," I snapped.

His voice dropped lower. "No, but you needed someone to keep you from tearing yourself apart."

I swallowed hard, pulse racing. I hated how his voice could curl around my spine like smoke. How even when I was angry—especially when I was angry—he made my blood burn.

"You don’t get to decide where I go," I said, lifting my chin.

"No?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I didn’t feel it the second you left your room? You think I wouldn’t come tearing through this place the moment your scent hit the tunnels?"

I backed up a step—only for my spine to hit cold stone.

His hand came up, not touching, but hovering beside my face. A threat. A promise.

"You’re reckless," he murmured. "And stubborn. And gods, I’d tear the world in two to keep you from making stupid decisions like this."

"I’m not yours to protect," I breathed.

His eyes flashed. "The hell you aren’t."

Behind me, Roman’s voice cut in. "She’s my fiancée."

Zain’s face went still. Dangerous.

"Was," he said coldly. "Before she stepped into my world. Before the bond chose her."

His gaze dropped briefly to my mark, still hidden under my sleeve—but we both felt it burning.

I clenched my fists. "You can’t just show up and growl at everyone I speak to."

"I can when that everyone smells like desperation and old lies," Zain said, his voice rough and laced with jealousy. "And I can especially do it when my mate walks into a den of human prisoners without backup."

"I’m not your mate."

The second I said it, something flickered in his expression.

Not hurt. No, Zain didn’t hurt.

But something deep and ancient recoiled. Like my words were a whip cracking across his soul.

He stepped back slowly. Like it took effort.

"You keep telling yourself that," he said, voice raw. "But we both know you feel it."

And then he turned.

But not before shooting Roman a look that could’ve melted steel.

"Don’t get comfortable," he said over his shoulder. "She won’t be visiting again."