Agent Luna [Completed]

42.

The cold, musty air fill my nose and the cold seeps into my skin. I pry my eyes open to see that I am in a small, dark cell. My arms are shackled above me and my legs are shackled.

A constant hammering thud is in my head and my entire body feels heavy as if my blood is made of metal.

A clanking sound increases the throbbing. I slowly look around my surroundings and see other cells attached to mine. All of them dark and wet. There is a constant humming of voices praying, begging for mercy or trying to talk to one's they love.

A few have mattresses or cots and all with small toilets. There is a few wolves pacing theirs or a human muttering over and over again. There is even a tray full of uneaten food in front of each cell, just out of arms reach.

I look over myself and see I'm not in my outfit but in a gray jumpsuit. One that has long sleeves and covers my marks. The pants cover my feet as well, which don't have my boots.

They took all my things and now I'm a prisoner again.

I slowly, and very carefully, stand up. The chains on my wrists clank loudly drawing everyone's attention to me.

My feet are chained together so my feet move maybe a foot apart. I yank at my chains, hoping they are loose, only to have my shoulder crack.

I growl and pull against it harder.

"That won't help, little pup." A gruff males voice speaks from my left.

My head snaps towards him. He looks about Tyler's age only more... knowing. He clearly has been here for a while. He has a beard and his hair is long. His face is grimy along with dirty clothes. He's sitting on the cot.

"Oh really?" I retort, tugging at the chains again.

"Really, little one. Just sit down and relax." He mutters, sleep evident in his voice.

"You are only three years older than me." I state. "Do NOT talk down to me."

His eyes snap to mine. "How do you know my age?"

"You look about the same age as my mate." My tone immediately turns sad.

The King stole me from my mate. The Rogue King just declared war on the King.

"Tyler!" I scream out, trying to hold back tears. "Baby, I'm sorry! Please, save me!"

A cell. That isn't different than any mission. This is just a game. A game I can play. The rule maker will cheat but I will win.

Silent hysterical laughter bubbles from me. I twist to look at the chains holding me. They are bolted to the wall. I look over to the uneaten tray and see a plastic fork, a plastic knife, and a metal spoon. I feel the wall and feel hard stone.

If I take the spoon and chip around the bolts, I can eventually dig the bolt out. If I have a fork, I can try to pry it out but a plastic fork won't do much.

I grip near the bolt and tug on the chains, them not loosing any. I prop a foot against the wall and focus on pulling one chain, effectively making my leg stretch out and the chain not moving.

I grunt as I lower my foot to the floor. I test how far the chain can go by walking towards the door. My hands barely reach the bar but my legs have slightly more room. I kick the bars with the heel of my foot. The kick sends a jolt of pain up my leg but I kick with even more force, making my leg begin to tingle.

I get down on my knees in front of the door and reach for the food. My fingers barely get past the cell. I try with my foot and effectively pull the tray towards me. I grab the spoon, fork, and knife before heading over to the bolts.