Chapter 47: Mint Condition
Riven struggled against the ropes, his muscles straining as he fought for freedom. His ears twitched at every sound, his heightened senses picking up the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestone, the creak of the carriage wheels, and the murmur of voices outside.
The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and hay, and he could still smell the remnants of the tavern—cheap alcohol, sweat, and perfume clinging to his skin.
His heart pounded against his ribs. He had been in bad situations before, but this? This was a whole new level of disaster.
Riven gritted his teeth. He hated this. The helplessness, the uncertainty—it made his fur stand on end. He was not some defenseless, fragile omega who needed saving, damn it! Well, he was... At least right now.
He twisted his wrists, testing the knots. Tight. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing.
"Stop struggling," came a voice from the front. Riven frowned, his voice did not sound hot, he did not want to be forced to do it with a guy who was not hot.
Fine. If they thought he was going to sit quietly and accept whatever fate they had in store for him, they were dead wrong.
Riven’s ears flicked, listening carefully. There were at least two men—one speaking, and another one handling the reins. Maybe more. He needed to get them off guard.
Taking a slow breath, he slumped forward, letting his body go limp.
Silence.
"...Oi."