Scent of Chains

The barn smelled of damp hay and wolf musk, a stink I’d gotten used to after years of sweeping it out. My broom scraped the dirt floor, kicking up dust while the pack buzzed around me—wolves laughing, claws clicking as they sharpened them on whetstones. Tonight was a hunt, and the air thrummed with it. I kept my head down, moving the pile of straw to the corner, pretending I didn’t hear the whispers. “Scentless freak,” someone muttered, loud enough to sting. I gripped the broom tighter.  

“Evan! Quit daydreaming—you’re slowing us down!” Kade’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and smug. I glanced up. He swaggered over, all broad shoulders and crooked grin, a gamma like me but higher up the pecking order. His buddies trailed him, snickering. “What’s the matter? Wolf still hiding?” He snatched the broom from my hands and jabbed the handle into my chest.  

“Give it back,” I said, voice low.  

He laughed, tossing it to one of his guys. “Make me, runt.” Before I could move, he shoved me hard. I stumbled, hitting the hay pile ass-first. Laughter erupted—Kade’s crew, some older wolves by the door. My face burned, but I swallowed the curse on my tongue. Fighting back just got you bloody around here. I stood, brushing off the straw, and grabbed the broom from where it landed.  

“Pathetic,” Kade said, spitting into the dirt. “No wonder your wolf’s ashamed.” He turned, sauntering off to join the hunters prepping their gear. I watched him go, fists clenching until my knuckles ached. One day, I’d be gone, and he’d be nothing but a bad memory.  

“Evan.” My dad’s voice pulled me out of it. Torin stepped in from the barn’s side door, his graying hair tied back, shoulders slumped like always. He carried a sack of pelts for the hunt—another job for gammas too low to run with the pack. “You okay?”  

“Fine,” I muttered, sweeping again. “Same as always.”  

He set the sack down, wiping his hands on his patched jeans. “Keep your head down, son. We’re not built for their games.”  

I stopped, leaning on the broom. “I’m not built for this life. I’m leaving when I can.”  

Torin’s eyes flickered—tired, resigned. “You think running fixes shame? This pack’s all we’ve got.”  

“It’s not mine,” I snapped. “Not anymore.” I turned away, shoving the broom into the dirt harder than I needed to. He didn’t get it—never would. Shame was theirs to carry, not mine.  

The barn doors swung wide, and the pack spilled out toward the woods, voices rising as they hauled nets and spears. I wasn’t invited—never was—but they still made me drag supplies to the edge of camp. I hefted a crate of salted meat, arms straining, and trudged after them. Kade was up ahead, bragging loud enough for the whole forest to hear. “Zane’s gonna see me take down a stag tonight. Maybe Leo’ll finally give me a nod.”  

“Good for you,” I muttered under my breath, setting the crate by the firepit. Zane and Leo—the alpha brothers. I’d never met them, just heard the stories. Zane was all fire and fists; Leo was the cold one, sharp as a blade. They ruled this pack like gods, and I wanted nothing to do with them. A glint caught my eye—a coin pouch one of the hunters had dropped in the rush. I glanced around, then swiped it, slipping a single coin into my pocket. My escape fund was growing, slow but sure.  

The pack moved off, howls echoing as they vanished into the trees. I stayed behind, stacking the last of the crates. My wolf—or whatever was supposed to be there—stayed silent, like it had since I was thirteen. Everyone else shifted back then, fur sprouting, scents blooming. Me? Nothing. Eight years later, I was still waiting, still the joke. But I didn’t need a wolf to get out. I had coins, a plan, and enough spite to keep going.  

I was halfway back to the barn when Kade’s voice rang out again. He’d doubled back, probably to gloat some more. “Hey, scentless!” He jogged up, grinning like a jackal. “Missed a spot.” Before I could dodge, he kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the mud face-first, the cold muck soaking through my shirt. Laughter followed—his crew had tagged along.  

“Stay where you belong, freak,” Kade said, spitting again as he walked off. I pushed up, wiping my face with my sleeve, glaring at his back. The coin in my pocket pressed against my thigh, a small, hard promise. “Not forever,” I whispered. The woods swallowed the pack’s howls, leaving me alone in the dark.  

I trudged to the water pump by the barn, splashing the mud off my hands. My reflection stared back from the puddle—sharp jaw, dark eyes, hair sticking to my forehead. I looked like someone who could fight, but I’d learned early that fists didn’t win here. Patience did. I’d been saving for years—odd jobs, skimmed coins, anything I could hide from Torin or the pack. Another month, maybe two, and I’d have enough to run. A bus ticket, a new city, a life where no one knew the scentless runt.  

Back in the barn, I finished sweeping, the quiet settling in. My hands ached, but my mind raced. Kade’s taunts, Torin’s warnings—they were chains I’d break soon. I’d grown up dodging their kicks, swallowing their words, but it hadn’t killed me. It’d made me harder, sharper. I wasn’t some fragile kid anymore—I was a shadow, slipping through their cracks, waiting for my shot.  

The lantern flickered as I hung the broom on its peg. Outside, the wind carried faint howls, the pack deep in their hunt. I stepped to the door, peering out. The compound stretched before me—huts, firepits, the alphas’ big house on the hill. A cage I’d lived in too long. I patted the coin in my pocket, a grin tugging at my lips. Soon, I’d be gone, and they’d never see it coming.  

A twig snapped behind me. I spun, heart kicking, but the barn was empty—just shadows and hay. I shook it off, stepping into the night. The air was cold, the hunt’s noise fading. I’d make it through another day, another job, another taunt. Because every step brought me closer to out.