Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 253

Chapter 253: Chapter 253

Brett’s Perspective

This damn place was boring enough to drive you insane.

No windows. No sunrise or sunset to mark the day. Just that godawful, sickly-white fluorescent light overhead, buzzing twenty-four seven. Time had turned into a thick, congealed glue, crawling forward. No phone, no computer, no games, not even a tattered magazine. Just four walls of bare, dark green paint, a hard bunk, a stainless-steel toilet, and... Luka.

Luka was mostly silent. He’d either curl up in his corner with his eyes closed, or lean against the wall, staring into the empty space across from him with a hollow look, lost in thoughts I couldn’t guess. I’d tried asking him more about this place, about the men who caught us, about how a werewolf survives in a hole like this. At first, he’d grunt a few dismissive answers. Later, he wouldn’t even bother opening his eyes, just a low, irritated rumble from his throat: "Save your breath, pup. You’ll need it."

He wasn’t a model ‘cellmate’ or some kind of guardian. No comfort, no encouragement. Just rough, practical survival advice delivered with a detached edge. How to conserve energy with minimal movement. How to pick the barely-edible bits out of the slop they served that smelled like garbage water. And the most important one—stay alert. Always. Even asleep.

Even the water tasted of heavy chlorine, burning on the way down. I hated everything about this place. The air, the light, the smells, the loneliness, and this crushing feeling of helplessness. I missed home. My own room. Mom’s slightly-burnt waffles. The reliable scent of motor oil and sweat that clung to Dad when he worked on cars in the yard. I even missed Kai’s occasional annoying taunts, and the wild, carefree rush of running with Aurora .

Aurora ... Where was she now? Did she get away? Or...

I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

I didn’t know how long it had been—maybe a night? My body clock was completely wrecked in here. I was drifting in that hazy space between sleep and waking when a harsh buzzer blared from the corridor outside, followed by heavy footsteps and the metallic clang of cell doors being unlocked in sequence.

Luka’s eyes snapped open. All traces of his earlier languid indifference vanished. He was tense as a drawn bowstring. He stood up swiftly, brushing non-existent dust off his clothes.

"Get up," he said to me in a low, serious voice. "Yard time. Stay close. Don’t fall behind."

Yard time? It took me a second. Like in prison movies? I scrambled off the hard bunk, my legs prickling with pins and needles from sitting too long.

"Luka, where are we going? Just... a walk?" I whispered, an unfamiliar nervousness coiling in my gut.

Luka shot me a glance that made me feel stupid for asking. "The yard. And to ‘check in.’" He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "Listen, kid. This place has its own rules. A lone wolf doesn’t last here. Especially a pup with no fangs yet. Stick with me. Do what I do. Keep your mouth shut, your eyes down, and for fuck’s sake, don’t look scared. Got it?"

I swallowed and nodded. His tone made it clear this was no stroll in the park.

The cell door swung open from the outside. A guard in the same dark blue uniform stood there, face blank, a baton in his hand. Luka walked out first. I followed, half a step behind. The corridor was filling with others, moving in small groups, all in identical grey jumpsuits. I was still in my own clothes, a glaring target. The air stank of sweat, unwashed bodies, and disinfectant.

These men... My heart hammered as I stole quick glances. Most were big, solid, with hard or empty eyes. Tattoos crawled over faces, necks, arms. Some gazes raked over us like shards of glass, lingering on me with undisguised appraisal and... an unsettling kind of interest. Among them, I caught faint whiffs of my own kind. But the scents were weak, muddied by layers of something darker and more complicated—similar to Luka’s, but fouler.

This was no ordinary holding cell. Nothing here was ‘ordinary.’

We moved with the flow through several corridors, past heavy doors opened with keys or keycards by guards, finally emerging into a walled-in concrete yard. The sky was a dull grey slab. The yard wasn’t large. A few rusted pull-up bars and a basketball hoop stood in one corner. Dozens of men were already scattered around, clustered in distinct groups.

Luka didn’t hesitate. He headed straight for one corner where about seven or eight men stood together—the largest and most imposing group in the yard. Their eyes met Luka’s as we approached. When their attention shifted to me, I felt like a rabbit circled by hawks.

"Hey, kid." A massive man blocked our path. He was bald, with a thick neck covered in snarling tattoos. He grinned, but it didn’t touch his eyes. His voice had that classic, street-gang cadence I knew from movies. "Fresh meat? Lookin’ soft. Wanna taste some ‘black sausage,’ huh?" He thrust his hips forward suggestively. His buddies erupted in a wave of ugly laughter.

Blood roared in my ears. Fear was instantly swallowed by a white-hot surge of anger. I knew exactly what he was implying. The vile insult churned my stomach. The wolf in my blood snarled. I hadn’t had my first shift, but the instinct to protect myself, to fight back, roared to life. I was fourteen, but I was Jacob and Selena’s son! My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. My body tensed, ready to lunge at him—to make him hurt even if I couldn’t win.

"Luka says you want to run with us." His voice was deep and even. No theatrical menace like the other guy, just pure, oppressive pressure.

I glanced at Luka. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod. I understood. This wasn’t about ‘want.’ It was about ‘must.’ Here, there was no neutral ground. You picked a side, or you got ground under everyone’s heel.

"Yes," I heard myself say, my voice scratchy.

The blond man studied me for a few more seconds. Then, unexpectedly, he opened his arms and pulled me into a rough, almost ritualistic embrace, thumping me hard on the back. His scent—wolf, metal, old blood, and a sharp, cold aftershave—engulfed me.

"Welcome to the fold, little lost wolf," he murmured near my ear. His tone held little warmth, more a statement of fact, a claiming. "In here, follow the rules, follow orders, we’re your teeth and claws. Cause trouble, or betray us..." He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The ice in his blue eyes as he released me said it all.

I took a step back and nodded, my throat tight. The other strays looked on, their scrutiny softening into a vague sense of acknowledgement—or maybe just the assessment of a new piece of shared property.

Just like that, in this surreal, dangerous, humiliating place, I’d joined a gang of stray werewolves.

A wave of absurd unreality washed over me. I was Jacob and Selena’s son. A member of the Moonlight Pack. And now I was seeking protection in a prison yard like some genuine street urchin.

But a small, stubborn voice whispered from deep inside: *This is temporary. Dad. Mom. Aurora ... Someone will come. I just have to survive until they do.*

Yard time ended. Following Luka’s and the blond leader’s cues, I walked back with their group toward the cellblock. We passed the big man and his crew. Their gazes were dark and sullen, but they made no move this time.

Walking with the crowd, each step felt unsteady, like the ground was shifting beneath me. This hellhole was swiftly and brutally rewriting everything I knew about the world.