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As time passes, my restlessness grows. The thought of sitting here, waiting to be rescued, grates against every independent fiber of my being. I stand up abruptly, startling Chloe.
"We need to try again," I say, determination flooding through me. "There has to be a way out of here."
Chloe looks uncertain but nods, getting to her feet. "Okay. What's the plan?"
I scan the room again, my mind racing. "The door. We haven't really examined the hinges or the lock mechanism. Maybe there's something we missed."
We move to the door, running our fingers along every inch of metal. The hinges seem solid, but as I trace the outline of the lock, I feel a slight give.
"Chloe," I whisper excitedly, "I think the screws holding the lock in place might be loose. If we had something to use as a screwdriver..."
She looks around frantically, then her eyes light up. "The table! The screws on the legs—maybe we can get one out and use it?"
It's a long shot, but it's the best idea we have. We move to the table, trying to be as quiet as possible as we work on loosening one of the screws. It's slow, painstaking work, our fingers becoming raw and bloodied as we struggle with the stubborn metal.
Just as we manage to work the screw free, we hear it—the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from above.
Panic floods through me. We're out of time.
Chapter 11
Zoe
The basement air grows thick with tension as Mark's footsteps echo down the stairs. My heart races, and I can feel Chloe trembling beside me. We're both frozen, our eyes fixed on the doorway, dreading what's about to come through it.
Mark appears, his face twisted into a cruel smile. He saunters into the room, exuding an air of sick satisfaction that makes my stomach churn.
My fists clench at my sides, a burning desire to wipe that smirk off his face surging through me. But I force myself to stay still. As much as I'd love to land a solid punch, I know it's futile. He's a shifter, with strength that far outmatches my own. One wrong move and he could easily overpower both Chloe and me. The thought of being at his mercy makes my skin crawl, but I have to play it smart for now.
"Well, well, well," he drawls, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Looks like we're all settled in for a nice little chat."
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "What do you want from us?" I demand, proud that my voice doesn't waver.
Mark's smile widens, revealing teeth that seem too sharp, too predatory. "Oh, it's not about what I want from you, sweetheart. It's about what I'm going to take from them."
"Them?" Chloe whispers beside me, her voice barely audible.
"The Whispering Pines pack," Mark spits, his face contorting with rage. "Those self-righteous bastards who think they're better than everyone else. Who think they can just take whatever they want."
He begins to pace, his movements jerky and agitated. "You know, I had it all planned out. Sarah was supposed to be mine. We were perfect together. But then that arrogant professor had to swoop in and steal her away."
"If I can't have Sarah," Mark continues, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, "then they can't have you. Any of you. I'm going to take away every unmated female in that pack, one by one. They'll learn what it feels like to lose everything they care about."
My blood runs cold at his words. The threat isn't just to us anymore; it's to every woman in the pack. I think of Hannah, of Jenna, of all the others who have no idea of the danger they're in.
"You're insane," I spit out, anger momentarily overriding my fear. "You can't possibly think you'll get away with this."
Mark whirls on me, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Oh, but I will. You see, I've thought of everything. By the time they figure out what's happening, it'll be too late. I'll have—"
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes from upstairs, cutting off Mark's villainous monologue. His head snaps towards the ceiling, his face contorting with fury.
"What the hell?" he snarls.
My heart leaps into my throat. Could it be a rescue? Hope surges through me, tempered by a fresh wave of fear. What if it's just someone else working with Mark?
Another crash, followed by the sound of splintering wood. Mark's face contorts with rage. "No!" he snarls. "Not yet! It's too soon!"
He turns back to us, his eyes wild. "This isn't over," he hisses. "You hear me? This isn't over!"
