Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 255

Chapter 255: Chapter 255

Aurora’s Perspective

For the next day—or what I guessed was a day; in this lightless hole, time was a goddamn joke—I sat stewing in my own anxiety, the feeling of something being deeply *off* growing stronger with every passing, unmarked hour. I was a specimen pinned in a jar, festering.

The two masked idiots hadn’t shown their faces since the call with the shitty flip phone. No food, no threats, not even a check through the door’s slot to see if I was still breathing. Just dead silence, thick enough to choke on, broken only by my own ragged breathing or the angry growl of my empty stomach.

This was wrong. So wrong. What kidnapper doesn’t keep an eye on their prize? Unless... they didn’t care if I saw them. Or they had more pressing business. Or they were just that confident this place was an inescapable cage.

Hunger and thirst became real torment. My lips were cracked, my throat on fire, my stomach clenching on nothing. The cold, greasy fast-food burger and syrupy soda they’d shoved at me yesterday were a distant memory. But the psychological torture was worse—the feeling of being forgotten, left dangling over a pit of unknown fate.

I’d checked the dumbwaiter slot. Long empty. I’d pounded on the door, kicked it, shouted until my voice was raw. Nothing. The silence outside was tomb-like.

Time crawled, each second a fresh agony. I started examining my cell with a new, desperate focus. Rough concrete walls, cheap grey paint peeling in places. The only door was heavy wood, old but solid. The handle wouldn’t budge from the inside, locked or barred. A thin sliver of dim light from the hallway bled under it. No other exits. No pipes. No vents.

Wait... *Wait*.

I forced a cold calm, like my father taught me. Look for the crack. *Any* crack. I was a werewolf. Even untransformed, I was stronger than any human girl. This door... maybe it wasn’t a fortress.

I went to the door, rapping different sections with my knuckles, listening. Near the lock and hinges, the sound was dull, solid. But lower down, towards the middle of the panel... it sounded slightly hollow?

I had no other choice. Sitting here wasn’t in my nature. Never had been.

I took a deep breath, backed up a few steps, and rolled my stiff shoulders. Wolf strength simmered in my veins.

*Focus, Aurora. You can do this.*

I took a running start and kicked the lower center of the door with everything I had.

*THUD!*

The impact was a thunderclap in the small space. Splinters flew. The door shuddered violently, dust raining down. Pain shot up my leg, but it worked! A deep dent now marred the wood, hairline fractures spiderwebbing out from it.

A wild flare of hope. Ignoring the pain, I kicked again. And again. *THUD! THUD! CRACK!* The sound of protesting wood grew louder. A section of the panel bulged inward, ready to give.

*Now!* I shoved my fingers into the gap around the bulging wood. Rough splinters drove into my fingertips. I hissed but didn’t let go. Gritting my teeth, I braced my feet, grabbed the wood, and *pulled*.

*CRUNCH—SNAP!*

A jagged piece of wood, thinner than I’d hoped but big enough, tore free in my hands. A dark, uneven hole gaped in the door. Big enough... maybe?

Triumph was a brief, bright flash, immediately followed by cold practicality. The edges were a mess of sharp teeth. It would be a tight, painful squeeze.

No time to hesitate. I shrugged off my leather jacket, wrapped it around my head and shoulders, and dropped to my knees. I had to wiggle through on my belly like some pathetic worm. Rough wood scraped and tore at my shoulders, arms, back—a hot, stinging pain. I held my breath, contorting, inching forward.

My upper body was through! I shoved against the cold, gritty concrete of the hallway, dragging my legs out after me. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping, my body screaming in protest. My hands were a mess of embedded splinters and smears of blood and grime.

I struggled to my feet and looked around. My heart plummeted.

The hallway was just as dark, lit only by a single, pathetic emergency light far down its length. It stretched straight ahead, lined with identical closed doors on both sides—a grim, hope-sucking corridor. The air was stale, thick with dust, mildew, and that faint, clinical smell that wasn’t quite hospital disinfectant.

I had no time for my hands. Gritting my teeth, I yanked out the largest, most annoying splinters. Tears sprang to my eyes. Swallowing the pain, I moved toward the dim light.

It led to a heavy metal door. Solid. A hundred times stronger than the wood. I threw myself at it, pushing, pulling, yanking the handle. It didn’t budge. Locked tight. I rammed it with my shoulder. A dull, pathetic thud was my only reward, followed by fresh pain.

Cold despair slithered up my spine. Out of the wooden cage, into a steel one?

"No... No way... Think, Aurora, *think*..." I muttered, a frantic prayer, as I whipped my head around, scanning the walls, ceiling, floor, doorframe...

*A vent.*

My eyes locked onto a square grille near the ceiling, just above the door. It was painted to blend with the wall, nearly invisible. It was small... tight. But maybe. A ventilation shaft. Old buildings had them. They went places.

Hope, hot and urgent, flared again. I looked for something to stand on. Nothing. I’d have to jump. I backed up, took a running leap, and my fingertips just caught the grille’s lower edge. I dangled, my injured hand shrieking in protest. I hauled myself up, digging my toes into the rough wall for purchase.

Got it! I jammed my fingers into the grille’s gaps and *wrenched*.

*SCREEE—*

I landed hard, not on concrete, but on a pile of... cardboard boxes? Crates? The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, stars exploding behind my eyes. Every bone jolted. But the pile had cushioned the fall. I was battered, but alive.

Dust filled the air. Dazed, I tried to push myself up, coughing, shaking debris from my hair.

Then I heard a sharp, shocked intake of breath.

Right in front of me. Less than ten feet away.

I looked up through the swirling dust. A middle-aged man in a lab coat, glasses perched on his nose, a clipboard in his hand, was staring at me. His eyes behind the lenses were wide as saucers, his mouth hanging open in pure, unadulterated shock. Behind him was a room lit by harsh fluorescent lights, filled with monitors and equipment I didn’t recognize.

Our eyes locked. Time froze for one beat.

He saw a filthy, bleeding girl who had just crashed through the ceiling.

I saw a man in a lab coat, standing in a "kidnapping" location with a high-tech alarm system.

There were no other options.

Before his shock could morph into action—reaching for an alarm, calling for help, running—my body moved on pure, feral instinct. Survival. Wolf-agility. Days of fear, anger, and humiliation combusted into raw, predatory violence.

Ignoring the pain, I launched myself from the debris pile. My body uncoiled, a spring released. My right leg swept out in a low, vicious arc, hooking behind his ankles.

"Oof!" He cried out, balance obliterated, toppling sideways.

He was still falling, clipboard flying, when I was on him. Like a wolf on prey. Fast. Final. I came down from behind, one arm snaking around his throat in a brutal chokehold, my other hand clamping over his mouth, my full weight pinning him to the floor.

He struggled, making choked, gurgling sounds, hands weakly scrabbling at my arm. The strength of a middle-aged human was nothing against a werewolf girl running on adrenaline and rage.

I knelt over him, breathing hard, my arm trembling with strain. Fresh blood from my hand smeared against his skin.

I tightened my grip, leaning close to his ear. My voice was a raw, guttural scrape, loaded with every ounce of threat I possessed.

"Don’t move. A single sound, and I snap your neck. Talk. *Where is this?* Who the hell are you people?!"