Chapter 1 — Captured

Evelyn Carter

The wind howled through the desolate ruins of the Forsaken City, a mournful whistle through shattered glass and crumbling steel. Evelyn Carter moved like a shadow through the wreckage, her boots crunching softly against the cracked asphalt as she skirted the edges of a long-collapsed overpass. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers loomed around her, their jagged silhouettes stark against the bleeding sunset. This place, once alive with the pulse of human civilization, now reeked of damp earth, rust, and decay. The air was heavy with the scent of rain that never came, promising another cold night in this fractured world.

Evelyn crouched low behind a rusted car frame, her hazel eyes scanning the street ahead. Every muscle in her wiry frame was tense, her breath measured and slow. A small satchel hung at her side, its weight a reminder of the meager supplies she’d scavenged from a nearby ruin. Canned food, a dull knife, and a coil of rope—barely enough to last her a week. But in this world, it was enough. It had to be.

Pausing for a moment, Evelyn allowed herself a brief glance at her forearm. The brand there, a cruel mark of subjugation, was faded but unmistakable. A constant reminder of her failure to protect her comrades. Her jaw tightened as the memories surfaced unbidden—her resistance cell ambushed, betrayed from within. They hadn’t stood a chance. The brand had seared not just her skin but her very sense of self. Still, she was here. Alive. And as long as she was alive, she could fight.

Her gaze shifted skyward, catching the first sliver of the rising moon. Its pale glow sent a shiver of unease down her spine. The werewolves were always more active under moonlight, their primal connection to it undeniable. The thought pushed her forward, weaving her way through the maze of debris with practiced precision. The ruins offered both danger and opportunity, and she knew how to use them to her advantage.

Evelyn was nearing the edge of the ruins when the first sign came. A faint scuff of gravel in the distance, too deliberate to be the wind. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she strained her senses. Another sound—this time the gentle creak of shifting metal. It was subtle, but unmistakable. She wasn’t alone.

She melted into the shadows of a half-collapsed building, pressing her back to the cold stone wall and listening intently. The low, guttural rumble of distant voices reached her ears, followed by the crunch of boots on rubble. Wolves. Her hand instinctively went to the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh. A pathetic weapon against what was coming, but it was all she had.

The rumble deepened, punctuated by the soft thud of paws. Her pulse quickened, and she forced herself to focus. Running was futile—they were faster, stronger. Fighting them head-on was suicide. That left only one choice: outthinking them. She scanned her surroundings, noting the narrow alleyways and the precariously balanced debris above. A plan began to form, but her time was running out.

The first figure emerged from the gloom—a tall, broad-shouldered werewolf in his human form. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a predatory silver that sent a jolt of fear through her. He sniffed the air, his head tilting as he caught her scent. Behind him, more shadows moved, their shapes fluid and menacing.

“Found her,” the werewolf growled, his voice a low rumble that carried an edge of triumph. He gestured for the others to spread out, their movements coordinated and efficient.

Evelyn cursed under her breath. She recognized him—Darius, one of Lucian Vale’s scouts. His reputation among humans was as cold and ruthless as the alpha he served. If they’d been tracking her specifically, it could only mean one thing: she was valuable to them. The realization was as infuriating as it was terrifying. She tightened her grip on the knife, her breath steadying. If she was going down, she’d make damn sure they remembered it.

The moment Darius stepped closer, Evelyn sprang into action. She hurled a chunk of concrete at his head, the makeshift projectile catching him off guard and sending him staggering back. Then she was moving, darting through the alley with the agility of someone who’d spent years dodging death.

“After her!” Darius roared, the snarls of his pack echoing through the ruins as they gave chase.

Evelyn wove through the labyrinth of debris, her mind a flurry of calculations. She knew these ruins better than they did—every hidden passage, every precarious ledge. She led them into a narrow corridor, her footsteps deliberate as she kicked loose a supporting beam. The structure groaned, the ceiling collapsing behind her and cutting off her pursuers.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, she thought she’d won. But the victory was short-lived. Her body tensed at the faint rush of air behind her—too late. A sharp pain exploded across her back as she was tackled to the ground. The force slammed her into the cracked pavement, the air rushing from her lungs. Her knife skittered out of reach, useless now. She twisted beneath her attacker, her fists lashing out in desperation. Her knuckles met flesh, the satisfying crack of a broken nose rewarding her effort.

“You’ve got fight,” Darius snarled, pinning her arms to the ground. “Good. The alpha will like that.”

Evelyn thrashed beneath him, her defiance burning bright even as her strength began to wane. Fear clawed at the edges of her resolve, but she shoved it down with sheer force of will. She refused to let them see it. “Go to hell,” she spat, her voice raw and venomous.

Darius chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “You first.”

The others closed in, their shadows looming over her as they secured her wrists with rough ropes. Evelyn’s heart sank as she felt the brand pressed against her forearm, the searing pain like a hot knife slicing through her skin. She bit down hard on her lip, refusing to cry out. The agony was blinding, but she clung to her defiance. This was not the first brand she’d endured, and it wouldn’t be the one to break her.

As the world around her blurred with pain, she caught a fragment of their conversation. “Lucian will want to see this one,” one of them muttered. “She’s not like the others.”

Darius nodded, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “She’s got fire. That alone makes her worth the trouble.”

They hauled her to her feet, her body aching and her pride wounded but intact. Evelyn’s eyes burned with hatred as she met Darius’s gaze, her defiance unbroken. She had survived worse than this, and she would survive this too. As they dragged her toward the Slave Market, her mind churned with plans for escape. She didn’t know who this Lucian Vale was, but if he thought she would bow to him, he was in for a rude awakening.

The ruins faded behind them, the desolation replaced by the oppressive stench of the market. Cages lined the horizon, their occupants little more than shadows against the flickering torchlight. The cries of the enslaved mingled with the growls of their captors, forming a cacophony of despair. Evelyn took one last look at the Forsaken City, its crumbling towers a testament to humanity’s fall. Her jaw tightened. She wasn’t done fighting—not by a long shot.

The moon hung high above, its cold light casting long shadows as they disappeared into the heart of werewolf territory. Evelyn’s fate was uncertain, but one thing was clear: this was only the beginning.