Seraphina’s POV
The car was warm and comfortable, a welco relief from the cold concrete and my bleeding feet. I settled into the soft leather passenger seat with a grateful sigh, still clutching the torn fabric of my wine-stained dress around myself. My rescuer—I realized I still didn’t even know his na—seed genuinely concerned about my wellbeing, which was more kindness than I’d experienced in the past several hours.
"Thank you again," I said softly, watching the city lights blur past the window. "I really appreciate this. I’m Seraphina, by the way."
"Michael," he replied with that sa warm smile. "Michael Harrison. And don’t ntion it—I couldn’t just leave you walking around barefoot and bleeding."
As we drove through the quieter residential streets, I found myself relaxing for the first ti since the disaster at the restaurant. Michael kept up a gentle stream of conversation—asking if I was too cold, whether I needed to stop sowhere for first aid, if there was anyone I wanted to call. His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, and I felt my earlier tension beginning to ebb away.
"Actually," he said as we stopped at a red light, "my place is just a few blocks from here. I have a first aid kit, and you could clean up, maybe get those feet properly bandaged before heading ho. It’s the least I can do after what you went through tonight."
Sothing in his tone made glance over at him, but his expression remained the sa—concerned, caring, genuine. Still, a tiny alarm bell went off in the back of my mind.
"That’s very kind," I said carefully, "but I don’t want to impose any more than I already have. If you could just drop off at the station—"
"Nonsense," Michael interrupted, his voice carrying a hint of sothing I couldn’t quite identify. "The subways aren’t running this late anyway. Just let help you get cleaned up, and then I’ll drive you wherever you need to go."
As we continued driving, I began to notice a strange, sweet sll in the car—sothing floral and cloying that seed to grow stronger with each breath. At first, I thought it might be air freshener or cologne, but there was sothing odd about it, sothing that made my head feel slightly fuzzy.
"Michael," I said, pressing a hand to my temple as a wave of dizziness washed over , "what’s that sll? It’s very... strong."
"Oh, that?" His voice sounded different now, less warm and more calculating. "Just sothing to help you relax. You’ve had such a stressful evening."
The alarm bells in my head suddenly beca a deafening siren. I tried to reach for the door handle, but my movents felt sluggish and uncoordinated. My wolf Ayla was snarling in my mind, but even her voice seed muffled and distant.
"Let out," I said, my words slightly slurred despite my efforts to speak clearly. "I want to get out of the car. Now."
Michael’s pleasant facade dropped completely, revealing sothing cold and predatory beneath. "I don’t think so, sweetheart. We’re almost there."
Panic flooded through as I realized what was happening. The sweet sll—it had to be so kind of drug designed to affect ogas specifically. I’d heard whispers about such things, black market substances used by wolves with the worst intentions.
"Stop the car!" I tried to shout, but my voice ca out weak and breathless. "Stop the car right now!"
But Michael just smiled, and it was nothing like the kind expression he’d worn when he’d first offered to help . This smile was full of teeth and hunger and promises of terrible things.
"Don’t worry," he said conversationally, as if he were discussing the weather instead of kidnapping . "It’ll all be over soon. You’ll probably even enjoy parts of it."
My body felt like it was made of cotton and lead, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. I managed to fumble for my phone, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate, and it slipped from my grasp to fall sowhere on the car floor.
We pulled into the driveway of a modest house on a quiet residential street. The porch light cast everything in sickly yellow shadows, and I could see that the windows were dark—no neighbors around to hear if I scread.
Michael got out and ca around to my side of the car, opening the door with the sa solicitous manner he’d shown earlier. "Co on," he said, reaching for my arm. "Let’s get you inside where it’s warm."
"No," I managed to gasp, trying to pull away from his grip. My coordination was shot, but desperation gave just enough strength to resist. "I’m not going in there. Take ho. Please."
"Ho?" Michael’s laugh was cold and ugly. "Sweetheart, after tonight’s little performance at the restaurant, I don’t think anyone’s going to miss you for a while. Did you see the way your precious Alpha looked at you? Like you were trash he wanted to scrape off his shoe."
His words hit like physical blows, but they also sparked a fla of anger that burned through so of the drug’s effects. Even through the haze, Ayla was fighting, lending what strength she could.
"Let go of ," I said, my voice growing stronger. "I said let go!"
I tried to wrench my arm free, but Michael’s grip tightened painfully. His pleasant mask had completely disappeared now, replaced by sothing cruel and hungry.
"I don’t think so," he said, beginning to drag toward the house despite my attempts to resist. "See, here’s the thing about disgraced little ogas—nobody really cares what happens to them. Especially when they’ve already been publicly humiliated."
My feet scraped against the concrete as he pulled up the front steps. The drug was making everything feel dreamlike and distant, but the panic was crystal clear. I tried to scream, but the sound that ca out was weak and pathetic.
"That’s it," Michael said approvingly as he fumbled with his keys while maintaining his grip on my wrist. "Just relax. Let it happen. Fighting just makes things worse."
"Help!" I tried again, putting everything I had into the word, but it ca out as barely more than a whisper. The neighborhood remained silent and dark, as if the whole world had decided to look the other way.
He got the door open and dragged into a living room that slled like stale beer and sothing else—sothing that made my wolf recoil in instinctive disgust. The furniture was arranged to face a large television, and I could see cara equipnt set up in one corner. My blood went cold as I realized what that ant.
"Please," I whispered, my vision starting to blur at the edges. "Please don’t do this."
"Shh," Michael said, his voice taking on a mockingly gentle tone as he pushed down onto the couch. "It’ll be over before you know it. And hey, at least soone will want you after tonight, even if it’s just for a few hours."
His hands moved to the straps of my dress, and I tried to fight, but my body wouldn’t respond properly. The drug had stolen my strength, leaving trapped in my own uncooperative flesh while this monster prepared to violate .
Just as I felt the first strap of my dress being pushed off my shoulder, a sound split the night air that made my heart leap with desperate hope. A howl—deep, furious, and absolutely murderous—echoed through the darkness outside.
Michael froze, his hands still on my dress, his head snapping toward the sound. "What the hell—"
The howl ca again, closer this ti, followed by the sound of sothing large crashing through the front yard. Michael’s face went white with terror as he realized what was coming.
The front door exploded inward with a crash that shook the entire house, wooden fragnts flying in every direction. Through the wreckage stepped a massive silver wolf with eyes that burned like blue fire, his lips pulled back to reveal fangs that could tear a man’s throat out without effort.
Even through the drug-induced haze, I knew those eyes. I knew that magnificent, terrifying creature.
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