Vann's Victory by Sydney Presley

the door, relief flowed through him at the sight of it being ajar. He nosed it open, conscious that wolves might be on the other side, ready to pounce. There was nothing but a room, empty, its walls built from red house bricks. Someone had spent a lot of time creating the hidden place. Kip cocked his head, keeping alert for sounds and smells that meant danger.
    There was nothing but the cubs’ scent laced with the mold.
    A tunnel mouth gaped opposite, black, the space beyond so secret it gave Kip the creeps. He glanced at Vann, then, before he could be stopped or change his mind, Kip plunged into it. An instant melody of water drips, amplified by the confined space, played a tune that he thought might haunt him forever. It was melancholy, a maudlin introduction to a dank, dark passageway that didn’t seem to lead anywhere.
    As he went on, the light from behind faded until blackness encompassed him. It was absolute, and walking blind was an eerie experience. He slowed, testing the ground for any hidden drops or steps before he trusted himself to move farther forward. Vann’s breaths seemed overly loud, meshing with the water tune and threatening to send Kip into madness. It was like this place was enchanted or haunted by unseen beings that had the intent to stop anyone from reaching whatever was ahead.
    Kip bumped into a wall ahead of him. He sniffed, cocked his head again then on instinct, pushed with his forehead. A chink of light spilled into the passage, a gap created by a section of the wall moving inwards. Kip stared through at a room made from the same house bricks as he’d seen earlier. Cells lined the wall opposite, a sleeping child in each one. A black wolf dozed on the floor in the center.
    “They’re here, Sir. As well as a guard. I think it’s Caleb.” Kip spotted a lighter patch at the end of the wolf’s tail, a black paintbrush dipped in white paint. “Yes, it’s Caleb.”
    “Caleb? What the fuck would he be doing here? He hates Bennett and Wickland.”
    “You know as well as I do that no one disobeys here. He’ll have been told what to do. We’d have done the same whether we liked it or not.”
    Nudging the wall again, praying it didn’t make any noise, Kip created enough space for him and Vann to go through. Kip went first, padding in as silently as he could. Vann came to stand by his side. They stared at the kids.
    “Drugged?” Vann asked.
    “Probably, Sir.”
    A strong urge to wake Caleb swept through Kip. He dropped his bag so it slapped on the floor then he shifted. Quickly getting out his Taser, he stood beside Caleb, surprised the noise he’d made hadn’t roused him. If Wickland had been here and found Caleb like this, dozing when he should have woken at the slightest sound, his life wouldn’t have had many seconds remaining in it.
    Toeing Caleb in the side, Kip waited for some kind of response.
    Nothing.
    “What the fuck?” Vann let his bag go, shifted to wolf form then pounced on Caleb.
    Taking a mouthful of his scruff, Vann shook his head, growling with anger.
    “What are you doing, Sir? Why be so rough?”
    “He needs to wake the hell up. We could be anyone. Those cubs could be at risk because he’s such a lazy bastard and won’t wake up.”
    Caleb opened his eyes and sprang to all four feet, shirking Vann off, blinking in what Kip could only assume was confusion that Kip and Vann were there. Then fear took over, widening his eyes and raising his hackles.
    “It’s okay,” Kip said, holding out his Taser hand. “Crossways has been secured by good shifters. But if you make one wrong move, I’ll use this. And it’ll hurt, understand?”
    Caleb’s hackles went down then he shifted. As a human he looked a wreck. His blond hair, full of grease, hung limply against his scalp. His usually handsome face bore signs of stress—gray shadows under his eyes and deep crevices either side of his mouth. He appeared older than his thirty-odd years—thin, weak. So why had he been