Because that’s what they were. Whatever else this was—medical bay, healing center—it was also a cage.
Her fingers found the edge of the bed, gripping hard enough that her knuckles went white. “How long until I can walk?”
“Soon.” Yarx moved to the table, his movements efficient as he checked readings on a tablet that glowed with the same blue light as everything else in this place. “The Tear Dome accelerates cellular repair, but your species isn’t designed for it. Your nervous system needs time to recalibrate.”
“My species.” The words tasted bitter. “You mean humans.”
“Humans.” He pronounced it carefully, as if testing the shape of the word. “Fragile. No natural defenses. Barely any muscle mass.” His gaze raked over her in a way that felt clinical rather than threatening. “You aren’t built for strength, and I would assume you weren’t trained for combat.”
The assessment stung more than it should have. Elsa lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with what little defiance she could muster while sitting helpless on a medical bed with useless legs. “I had some training.”
Yarx’s ears flicked. Amusement, maybe. Or dismissal. “It won’t matter.”
Before she could respond, movement at the edge of her vision snapped her attention to the doorway.
Another wolfman entered.
Larger. Bulkier. His fur was darker—nearly black, with streaks of deep gray rippling across his shoulders and chest like storm clouds. He moved with the kind of predatory grace that made her hindbrain scream warnings she couldn’t articulate.
Green eyes locked onto her. Not amber like Yarx’s. Not cyan like the one who’d carried her through the forest. These were sharper. Colder. The kind of gaze that evaluated and dismissed in the same breath.
“Need any help stabilizing the prisoner?” His voice was smooth. Too smooth. Like a blade sliding out of its sheath.
He didn’t look at Yarx when he spoke. His attention remained fixed on Elsa, unblinking, assessing every micro-expression that crossed her face.
Yarx snorted. “I’ve got it covered.” He didn’t spare the newcomer a glance, focused instead on whatever readings his tablet displayed. “She’s not going anywhere.”
The larger wolfman took a step closer. The room felt smaller. Elsa’s pulse kicked up another notch, hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Yarx’s ears pinned back slightly. “I don’t think she’ll make another sudden, irrational action.”
Irrational.The word scraped against something raw in Elsa’s chest. Grabbing what she’d thought was a weapon while surrounded by monsters who’d kidnapped her from a crash sitewas the mostrationalthing she’d done since waking up in this nightmare.
But the truth of her situation pressed down with suffocating weight. Two of them. One of her. Legs that didn’t work. No weapons. No backup. No plan beyond “survive the next five minutes.”
She swallowed hard. Her gaze darted between the two wolfmen—Yarx, who at least seemed focused on keeping her alive, and the newcomer, whose very presence radiated threat like heat off asphalt in summer.
If she had to pick a lesser evil...
“I won’t resist.” The words came out steadier than she’d expected. Elsa forced herself to hold the green-eyed wolfman’s stare, even as every instinct screamed at her to look away. “I’ll stay calm. I swear.”
Her gaze flicked to Yarx. Back to the larger creature. “I won’t give you a reason to…hand me over to him.”
Yarx’s ears perked. His muzzle pulled into something that might have been a smile. “Smart choice.” He folded his arms across his chest, claws clicking softly against fur. “Even though it wouldn’t be needed. I would’ve been able to subdue you and knock you out if necessary.”
The casual threat should have terrified her. Instead, it just confirmed what she’d already suspected—Yarx was capable of violence, but he wasn’teagerfor it. Not like the other one, whose stillness felt less like patience and more like a coiled spring waiting to snap.
The green-eyed wolfman’s lips pulled back slightly. Not a smile. Not quite a snarl. Something in between that made her stomach drop. “It doesn’t matter if you resist or not.” His voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “You’re an intruder. A prisoner. My job is to ensure you and your companions remain in line until the Alpha King decides your fate.”
Fate.
The word landed like a stone in icy water.
Elsa’s breath hitched. “Fate?” The question came out higher than she’d intended. She shook her head, panic prickling at the edges of her thoughts, threatening to swamp the fragile calm she’d been clinging to. “This isn’t my fault. It’s not any of ours.”
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “It was the captain. I was the navigator—my job was just to read the star charts, make sure we stayed on our planned route. Iwarnedhim about diverging from the flight path. I warned him about exiting the sol system. He didn’t listen.” Her voice cracked. “He thought he could play explorer, blaze a new trail through space. I didn’t want to come this far. Itoldhim—”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is.” The green-eyed wolfman’s tone was flat. Final. He took another step closer, and Elsa pressed back against the wall behind her, her useless legs a mockery of any attempt at retreat. “You crashed in the Holy Lands. That makes you ours now.”