She was tired. So tired. Of surviving. Of scavenging cold food from ruined vending machines and half-burned stores. Of waking up with her stomach clawing at itself. Of sleeping in ditches and trees.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, already feeling herself spiraling down into that dark place she tried to avoid. Maybe this was it. Maybe she'd starve to death in here. Or worse, they'd haul her out and maul her body.
A few minutes later or hours? Time hadn't existed for her in as long as she could remember, she fell asleep, slumped over. That's when the dream came.
It wasn't a normal dream. It was vivid and terrifyingly real. A red wolf, it was huge, majestic and powerful stood on the edge of a cliff, howling at a blood moon. The sound was haunting, primal, and pierced straight through Raven's chest like a memory she didn't know she had. The wind roared around the cliff. She was inside the wolf. She couldn't move, couldn't stop it. The howl grew louder until it felt like her lungs were the ones straining, her throat raw, her soul screaming at the sky.
She woke with a jolt as the sound of metal clanging against metal cracked through her dream. Raven blinked the blur from her eyes, heart still racing from the vision. Cold reality returned like a slap to the face.
A woman stood in front of her, flanked by two of the same meatheads who had dragged Raven in. The woman was tall and graceful. Her hair was pulled into an elegant braid that made Raven suddenly aware of how long it had been since she'd touched a comb.
The two men looked smug.
Raven sat up slowly, brushing hair from her face and trying to play it cool. "Uh, hi," she said with a dry and gravelly voice. "Can anyone tell me what time of day it is?"
The woman didn't hesitate. Her hand balled into a tight fist and then collided with Raven's face with precise rage. Raven's head snapped to the side, a blinding white light bursting behind her eyes as pain screamed across her cheekbone. It felt like her teeth had clicked.
"How dare you! That was my brother!" the woman shrieked, fury lacing her voice.
Raven blinked, blood already starting to rise in her mouth, the copper tang spreading across her tongue. "Uh... maybe you should've kept a closer eye on him then?" she muttered, spitting a little blood onto the prison floor. "It's a dangerous world out there. Didn't exactly come with a safety manual."
The sarcasm didn't land well. Another punch came, this time faster and harder. And then another. Fists like hammers wielded with ferocious fury. Raven didn't even try to block them.
Her face felt like it had been set on fire. There was blood, thick and warm, trickling from her nose and somewhere above her eyebrow. One of her eyes was beginning to swell shut, and she could already feel that annoying trickle of tears she refused to let fall sting the corners.
"I didn't hurt the boy," Raven rasped, every word scraping past a throat that suddenly felt lined with razors. But her voice was a whisper in a storm; no one cared.
"What do we do, Lira? Should we wait for the Alpha?" asked one of the men. He sounded uncertain.
"No," the woman whose name was apparently Lira said coldly. She stood tall, her fists trembling slightly at her sides. Her face was still flushed with rage but her voice was calmer. "She'll be executed. Tonight. And her head will hang outside the pack border. Let it be a warning to the humans: touch our young, and die."
Well. How about that, Raven thought, sagging against the wall as the goon squad turned to leave. Ten years of dodging bloodthirsty werewolves and feral humans and this was how she'd go out? Face pulped, framed for a crime she didn't commit, and decapitated. Ain't life a bitch.
The cell gate slammed shut behind them with a deep, echoing clang. The sound had a weight to it.
No bath, no last meal. If she was going to die, the least they could've done was offer her something fried and greasy. Or a blanket. Or a cookie. Raven sank to the ground, her head resting back against the cold stone wall, pain flaring through her jaw every time she swallowed.
She should've walked away. She knew better. You hear a scream, you keep walking. That's Survival 101 in a world gone to hell. Empathy is a luxury the dead afford.
But no. She'd gone and listened to the tiny part of her that still believed in doing the right thing. The part she thought she'd buried beneath ten years of ruin.
People who care get hurt. People who stop get hit. People who save lives end up losing their own.
And now, Raven; defenceless, bruised and bleeding was finally learning the ultimate lesson of survival:
Nice girls get beheaded.
*****
Raven sat in the cold cell, her back pressed to the damp stone wall as the last blush of daylight faded like a final breath. Shadows crept in through the barred window, curling around her ankles. The world was sinking into night, and with it, so was she. Her execution was close.
Maybe dying wasn't so bad after all.
She imagined the faces of her family; her mother's gentle smile, her father's awkward but loving hugs, her little brothers and their wild, joyful laughter. It had been so long since she'd heard that sound. Maybe in death, she could find them again. Maybe they were somewhere waiting, arms outstretched, in a place untouched by claws or hunger.
The moon's pale light bled through the narrow window above, casting an eerie silver glow across the floor. It touched her, brushing over her swollen face and tangled hair, and she closed her eyes. She was ready. Finally. No fighting, no screaming. Just peace. Let the world have its monsters.