Chapter 2 : A New Cage

The first rays of dawn crept through the small, barred window of Aria’s room, casting long shadows on the bare walls. She sat up on the stiff mattress, her body aching from the rough handling of the night before. Her wrists were raw from the ropes, though someone had at least removed them after she’d been locked away.

This was her life now—a prisoner in a pack where she didn’t belong.

The sound of a knock startled her. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Darius stepped inside. His towering figure filled the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Alpha doesn’t tolerate laziness.”

Aria swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. She moved stiffly, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.

Darius handed her a plain, gray tunic and a pair of boots that looked a size too big. “Put these on. Your duties start now.”

She hesitated, glancing at him for a moment before taking the clothes. He didn’t leave the room, making it clear she wouldn’t be granted privacy. Turning her back to him, she quickly slipped into the tunic, its coarse fabric scratching her skin.

“Follow me,” he commanded once she was dressed.

Aria obeyed, her steps quiet as she trailed behind him through the labyrinthine hallways of the pack house. The grandeur of the building struck her again—the polished wooden floors, the ornate chandeliers, the paintings that seemed to watch her every move.

They passed a few pack members along the way, their conversations ceasing as their eyes landed on her. Some stared with curiosity, others with open disdain. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her cheeks burning.

Darius led her to the kitchen, a bustling space filled with the clatter of pots and the aroma of cooking meat. A middle-aged woman with graying hair and a stern expression turned to greet them.

“This is Greta,” Darius said, gesturing toward the woman. “She’s in charge of the kitchen staff. You’ll be working under her for now.”

Greta’s sharp eyes appraised Aria, her lips pressing into a thin line. “She looks like she’ll break in half,” the woman muttered.

“She’ll manage,” Darius replied curtly before turning to leave. “Do as she says, and don’t cause trouble.”

As soon as he was gone, Greta snapped her fingers, motioning for Aria to come closer. “Well, don’t just stand there. We’ve got mouths to feed.”

The hours dragged on as Greta barked orders, assigning Aria the most menial tasks—peeling potatoes, scrubbing pots, sweeping the floor. Her hands ached, her back throbbed, but she worked without complaint. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself, not here.

By midday, her tunic was soaked with sweat, her arms streaked with grime. The other kitchen staff avoided her, whispering amongst themselves whenever she passed. She caught fragments of their conversations.

“Did you hear? She doesn’t even have a wolf.”

“She won’t last a week.”

“Why would Alpha Isaac even take her in?”

Their words stung, but Aria kept her head down. She had learned long ago that reacting only made things worse.

Just as she finished cleaning another stack of dishes, a young man with sandy blonde hair burst into the kitchen. His energy was infectious, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Greta!” he called. “Got any of those pastries left?”

“Jamie, you glutton,” Greta scolded, but there was no real malice in her tone. She pulled a tray of pastries from the counter and handed him one.

Jamie’s eyes landed on Aria, his grin faltering. “Who’s this?”

Greta waved a dismissive hand. “The new girl. Don’t bother her.”

“New girl, huh?” Jamie leaned against the counter, studying her. “What’s your name?”

“Aria,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Aria,” he repeated, his tone light. “Well, welcome to the Shadow Fang pack. Hope Greta doesn’t work you to death.”

“Get out of here, Jamie,” Greta snapped, though there was a hint of a smile on her face.

Jamie chuckled and left the kitchen, leaving Aria to wonder if everyone in the pack was as intimidating as Isaac—or if there were exceptions like him.

By the time her shift ended, Aria was too exhausted to do anything but collapse onto her bed. Her muscles screamed in protest, and her hands were red and raw.

She lay staring at the ceiling, her thoughts racing. The pack house was a fortress, and escaping seemed impossible. Even if she could slip past the guards and patrols, where would she go? The world outside was just as cruel as the one she had left behind.

Her mind wandered to Isaac. She hadn’t seen him since the previous night, but his presence lingered like a shadow over the entire pack. She didn’t understand why he had agreed to take her. He clearly didn’t want her here.

A sharp knock at her door startled her out of her thoughts.

“Get up,” came Darius’s voice. “The Alpha wants to see you.”

Her stomach twisted into knots. She rose from the bed, smoothing down her rumpled tunic before opening the door. Darius stood there, his expression unreadable.

He led her to Isaac’s office, a large room lined with bookshelves and dominated by a massive wooden desk. Isaac sat behind it, his piercing eyes locking onto hers the moment she entered.

“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Aria obeyed, her hands trembling in her lap.

“You’ll be working in the kitchen for now,” Isaac said, his tone cold and clipped. “But that doesn’t mean you’re free to do as you please. You’re a guest in this pack—barely. Step out of line, and you’ll regret it.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aria hesitated, her mind racing for an answer. Finally, she mustered the courage to speak. “Why did you take me in?”

For a moment, something flickered in Isaac’s eyes—something unreadable. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“That’s none of your concern,” he said sharply. “Just remember your place.”

Dismissed, she rose to leave, but his voice stopped her at the door.

“Survive, Aria,” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding. “That’s the only advice I’ll give you.”

She didn’t respond, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the hallway.

Survive.

It was the same word her step-parents had used to justify selling her. But this time, it wasn’t a curse—it was a challenge.

And she intended to rise to it.

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