CHAPTER 4– CLAUDE

CLAUDE

I sat across from my father, the room thick with the silence of the lies I was about to spin. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he studied me.

"So, you're saying Alpha Landon wants you at this meeting with the Federal werewolves… government officials?" His voice carried doubt, his fingers tapping the edge of the table.

"Yes," I replied, gripping my phone a little tighter.

"And he didn't think to tell me first?" His brow furrowed deeply.

I met his gaze without flinching. "No."

He rubbed his beard—a beard I couldn't seem to grow no matter how hard I tried. "It sounds suspicious."

"We've grown closer since our last meeting at his pack. He said he sees great potential in me as a future Alpha." I spread my hands across the table, forcing myself to relax, or at least appear relaxed. "Don't you think I have potential?"

My father cleared his throat, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Of course, son. This could be a big opportunity for our pack." His tone was clipped, but I took the compliment for what it was. "You've done well."

I nodded, standing up and grabbing my bag. "I'll be off now."

I'd made it halfway to the door when his voice stopped me cold. "Claude—did you remember your medicine? You know what happened last time."

My hand clenched the strap of my bag as I paused. Glancing over my shoulder, I gave him a stiff nod. "How could I forget?"

Three days.

That's how long it had been since I was taken. Chained in this dungeon, my wrists rubbed raw, the cold stone walls pressing against me. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing in the small space, but the sound of the door unlocking cut through the steady rhythm.

A man, no older than thirty, entered, flanked by two others. His green eyes swept over me, and he strode forward, gripping my chin between rough fingers.

"This is him?" he asked the men behind him, never breaking eye contact with me.

"Yes," one of them confirmed.

As his eyes roamed over me, something shifted deep inside me. I felt different—like something was about to change in ways I couldn't control. And what terrified me most wasn't that change was coming, but that I would be the one to change.

The border loomed ahead of me, a familiar checkpoint between werewolf and human territory. I stepped out of the car, gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans, the weight of my bag heavy on my shoulder. The officers guarding the border nodded after checking my letter of passage, allowing me through without question.

An hour later, I arrived at the spot I'd marked on the map. A white van approached from the distance, and I could feel my pulse quicken, my instincts sharpening. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, but when the van stopped and the door slid open, the stench of humans hit me like a slap.

"Tate?" The man who stepped out squinted at me, glancing down at the tablet in his hand before meeting my eyes. "Tate Frank?"

I forced a smile, lowering my hand away from the gun. "Yeah. That's me."

The man eyed me for a moment before stepping aside to let me in. Four humans were already inside—three women, eyes sharp and curious, and one man who seemed determined to ignore everything around him. I slid into the seat beside a blonde girl who couldn't have been more than twenty.

The door slammed shut behind me, and I could feel the eyes of the others burning into me. The blonde was already staring, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Um… hey. Do you know where they're taking us?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her smirk widened, and she let out a small giggle. "Oh, a first-timer."

The others all turned to me, their eyes dancing with something that made my stomach tighten. Heat crept up my neck, and I realized just how little I knew about what was coming next.

She grabbed my arm and leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "They don't reveal the location of the yacht for security reasons, but I heard…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's headed for New York. And lucky for us, we're not that far off."

I nodded, trying to resist the urge to pull away from her touch. Diana seemed nice enough, but being touched by strangers wasn't exactly my favorite thing.

"Anyway, my name's Amelia. What's yours?" She looked at me expectantly, her curiosity genuine. I managed a smile, reminding myself of the fake identity I'd need to use for the next two weeks—assuming this wasn't some elaborate prank. "Tate."

---

Well, fuck me—it was real.

I stood at the loading docks, staring up at the biggest, most expensive-looking yacht I'd ever laid eyes on. It was a sleek, towering hull, its polished white exterior gleaming in the sunlight, with elegant balconies and soft lights accentuating its luxurious design.

"Impressive, huh?" Amelia's voice snapped me back to reality. She smiled, gesturing toward the gleaming vessel. "Wait until you see the inside."

The van that had brought us here was already pulling away. I pulled out my phone, checking the time: just past four.

"How long have you been doing this… pet thing?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Amelia grinned. "This is my third time. The pay's good. I make over fifty grand each trip."

Her eyes flicked to the phone in my hand. "Just a heads up—they don't allow phones onboard. And you'll be frisked by security, so…" She leaned in, placed her hand on my back and her voice lowering. "If you've got any weapons, now's the time to get rid of them."

My stomach tightened. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching before slipping the gun from my waistband. With a quick flick of my wrist, I tossed it into the water and hurried to catch up with Amelia, gripping the railing of the boarding ramp.

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She threw a look over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with amusement. "When you got off the bus, your shirt rode up a little." She smirked. "I saw it."

I exhaled sharply, cursing myself for not being more careful.

"Thank you, Amelia," I said, just as she stopped and placed her palm against my chest.

"You don't have to thank me." She leaned in closer, her eyes darkening slightly. "You're a sweet boy… I'd hate to see you go to waste."

Her words made me frown, my mind catching on something unspoken.

With only one person left between us and security, I grabbed her arm, stopping her from moving forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just be careful, Tate," she cut me off with a warm smile. "This place can be a fucking dangerous one."

I loosened my grip, and she easily slipped her arm away, moving ahead to stand before the security guard.

"Name?" the guard asked.

"Amelia Reed," she responded smoothly.

It was my turn next. I tightened my hold on my bag as I stepped forward.

"Name?" the man asked, his gaze drifting over me.

"Tate Frank," I said, keeping my voice even.

The guard glanced down at his tablet, then back up at me, his eyes squinting. "It says here you've got brown eyes and glasses," he said, clearing his throat.

I forced a smile. "I'm wearing contacts now."

The guard grunted, glancing at the tablet again before muttering, "Shame. You looked better with the glasses."

I bit back a retort, watching as he took my bag. "You'll get it back after we search it," he said flatly.

Once the check was complete and my phone confiscated, I followed the same path Diana had taken. Her voice drifted to me before I could fully catch sight of her.

"I'm glad you made it, Tate," she said, smiling as she stepped closer. For once, I didn't mind seeing her again.

I took in our surroundings—there were around thirty of us now, gathered on the deck—before turning back to Amelia. "What happens now?"

She raised her left hand, showing me a small block of chains, her smile becoming sharper. "Now, when the clock strikes six and the yacht sets sail… we meet our buyers through that door."