Work Text:
Chase’s whole body ached.
His skin stretched uncomfortably as he tried to sit up, like something was tugging at it. When he finally managed to right himself, his head pounded so hard that for a moment his vision blurred. When it finally cleared, dread blossomed in the pit of his stomach as he saw the thick metal bars that surrounded him.
He was in a cage.
Chase shot to his feet, fingers wrapping around the bars as he glanced frantically at his surroundings.
There were narrow windows set high in the walls, covered to keep anyone from seeing through them. It looked like a basement. Smelled like one too, he suddenly realized. The earthy, underground scent was overwhelming, almost enough to make him think for a split second that he’d been buried.
“Hello?!” Chase yelled. His voice was already hoarse, as if he’d been screaming.
Pain tearing open his legs as claws dragged viciously along them. Fur smothering him. He punched and kicked, fighting to breathe as he was pinned against the ground.
“Hello?!” he screamed again, slamming his hands against the bars. He felt his chest go tight as he started to hyperventilate.
“Help!”
He staggered back and charged at the cage door, kicking as hard as he could. He gasped as the pain in his leg spiked. As he looked down, he could see that his jeans were torn. Beneath the rips in the material he could see the stark white of bandages.
And he could smell the blood.
Teeth ripped through his skin, clamping down and shaking him like a rag doll.
His vision blurred again and he clung to the bars to keep himself upright. There was no explanation for where he was – in a basement, in a cage, injured, with his clothes ripped to shreds - that wasn't terrifying. And he didn’t know what any of the images flashing through his head meant.
The creak of hinges echoed through the room. Chase’s gaze snapped toward the source of the noise. At the far end of the basement, a door had opened, admitting a lone man into the room. Chase’s fingers tightened around the bars of the cage until his knuckles turned white.
“Let me out,” Chase said, his voice breaking.
“I can’t do that yet,” the man said, coming to a stop in front of the cage. His amber eyes met Chase’s for a split second and Chase flinched. There was something in his gaze that seemed off. Like he was looking at something not quite human.
“Your name is Chase, isn’t it?” the man asked.
Chase stiffened, his eyes widening. Slowly, he nodded.
“I’m Callum,” the man said. “And as long as you can stay calm, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
Before Chase could say a word in response to the ridiculous idea that he could stay calm right now, Callum reached through the bars and grabbed Chase’s arm. Chase fought to pull away, but Callum’s grip was too strong for him to break free. Callum pulled Chase toward him, pushing back his sleeve.
“What are you –”
Chase’s words choked off as he blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. Claws had sprung forth from Callum’s hand. One of them raked across Chase’s arm, digging deep into his skin. He gasped as Callum let go of him, allowing him to pull his bleeding arm against his chest. But his confusion and horror didn’t last long. It was quickly drowned out by an overwhelming sense of power that made his knees shake and nearly give out. It emanated from Callum, slamming against Chase like a tidal wave.
“Now,” Callum said, his voice suddenly a hundred times more commanding than it had been just seconds ago. “You need to calm down.”
Chase had no intention of doing so, but he found himself taking long, deep breaths, as if against his will.
“What did you just do?” he gasped.
“I brought you into my Pack,” Callum said. There was something about that word that suddenly meant something to Chase, on a deep level he couldn’t name.
“Pack?” he echoed.
“You were attacked by a werewolf.” Callum said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “You were bitten.”
“What are you talking about?” Chase asked. It wasn’t possible. Werewolves weren’t real. But his instinct was to believe it anyway.
“That thing that attacked you in the alley was a werewolf,” Callum said again. “He bit you, and he turned you into one of us.”
“This is insane,” Chase muttered, turning away from Callum. “This is insane.”
“Chase.”
He stiffened, a sharp, unwavering instinct telling him to listen.
“I know how all of this sounds. But the sooner you accept that it’s real, the sooner you can get out of this cage.”
“Fine,” Chase said, turning back to glare at Callum. “I’m a werewolf. Now let me out.”
“You need to learn to control this first.” Callum was way too calm for someone who had a teenager locked up in a cage in his basement. “If you don’t, you will hurt someone, just like he did.”
Chase couldn’t breathe. Amber eyes stared down at him. Menacing. Hunting.
“How do I know you’re not the one who did this?” Chase asked.
“If I was, you would have known as soon as I walked through the door,” Callum said. “He bound you to him when he bit you. He was your alpha. Now I am, and I can protect you, but only if you can stay calm and listen to me.”
Chase looked around the room once more, feeling as if the walls were closing in around him, trapping him in the cage more thoroughly than he already was.
“You’re really not gonna let me out, are you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Callum said. “Not until I know it’s safe.”
Chase gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream. To reach through the bars and claw Callum limb from limb.
“I’ll give you some time to process this,” Callum said. “But the sooner we start, the sooner you can get out of here.”
The second he left the room, shutting the door behind him, Chase slammed his hands against the bars of the cage and screamed.