Evey had tried to get some sleep after Scabior departed, but it was no use. She kept seeing Walden's unmoving body. But he couldn't be dead. She would know if he were dead, surely. He must have been Stunned, nothing more.

She'd only been captive for a few hours, but already she'd thought about suicide, plain and simple. It wasn't something she would have considered in other circumstances, but the situation was dire. Greyback was apparently impervious to magic, and the wandless spells Evey had attempted to cast to open the door of her cell had proven useless. She suspected that magic couldn't be used inside the building. If that was the case, what other weapon did she have at her disposal? She was locked up in a prison cell and surrounded by Merlin knew how many werewolves. At least if she killed herself, Greyback would likely die as well.

For the hundredth time, Evey contemplated her connection with Greyback. What sort of magic could possibly be at work here? She had never heard of anything remotely akin to this curse. Evey's circumstances had been peculiar to begin with, and Greyback had seemed as puzzled as she was, so it was nothing he had done – at least not wittingly. What also troubled her was that the werewolf had healed as fast as she had. She'd never read anywhere that werewolves regenerated quickly, even when transformed. Or was it another consequence of their improbable bond?

The worst part was that she couldn't even wish for rescue. She knew that Walden would try to find her – if he was even alive – but what if he did? Even if the entire Order turned up at the prison, they would be badly outnumbered, and unable to cast any magic besides. They wouldn't stand a chance.

The situation was dire indeed.

Dawn had come and gone as Evey pondered these depressing matters, and no one had come to check on her. She was starved.

It was another hour – to the best of Evey's estimation – before a man she hadn't encountered before appeared with a tray. Scabior had removed the drape covering her door after their short discussion the night before, so she saw him approach. He was about forty, tall and massive, with an unkempt beard. He eyed her quite thoroughly for a long moment, mouth slightly ajar, as if he'd never seen a woman before. He kept sniffling all the while. Maybe he had a cold.

When she'd had enough of his staring, Evey arched an eyebrow and addressed him as politely as she could manage, under the circumstances. Maybe he wasn't here of his own free will, after all. "Can I help you?" Well, it came out a bit harshly, perhaps.

He seemed to regain his senses at the sound of her voice. Shaking his head, he placed the tray near the metal gate of her cell. It was a full breakfast, with eggs and bacon, sausages and beans, and even some buttered toast. There was some coffee, too. Evey's stomach rumbled at the sight of that feast. How was she supposed to eat it through the bars, though?

The man cleared his throat roughly. "Um…I'm going to open the door now," he said in a thick Mancunian accent. "Um…please stay on the bed while I do that. And um…don't do nothing, um, rash. Please," he added sheepishly.

Merlin, was he scared of her? She was half his size, for crying out loud!

Then she realised that he was more likely afraid of Greyback. The Alpha must have admonished his minions to be careful around her. Well, he shouldn't have worried. What could she possibly do? Grapple with him? Evey giggled at the thought and the man shot her a troubled glance before walking away, presumably to activate the opening mechanism. The door slid open a moment later, but Evey waited for the man to come back before moving forward. She didn't want to perturb him more than he already was.

"Um…you can have the food now, if you want," he muttered, eyes downcast. Evey noticed that he maintained a safe distance between them.

Finally, she got up, picked up the tray and sat back down on the bed to eat. She didn't look up from her plate, but she heard the gate closing, then the sound of retreating footsteps moments later. She ate everything but left the coffee untouched. She didn't like the bitter drink, especially black. She hoped that someone would think to bring her some tea, or water, at the very least.

When she was done with her breakfast, Evey lay down on the bed and waited. She didn't have anything else to do. She'd saved the knife and fork that were provided with the meal and kept them within easy reach, but she wasn't sure that she could bring herself to use them. What would be the point, anyway? Even if she managed to wound or kill one of the werewolves – and murdering presumably innocent people certainly didn't appeal to her – she wouldn't be any closer to getting out of here. It would only enrage Greyback – not that she cared about his feelings, obviously, but he might decide to take it out on other people, since he couldn't harm her directly. What if he decided to hunt down other members of the Order to get back at her?

Gods. What a pickle.

Scabior came by sometime later, around midday, Evey assumed, since her stomach was already acting up. She ate a lot more than she used to, since she'd been bitten by Greyback the year before. As far as she was concerned, the only good thing that came out of that was that she didn't put on weight anymore. She had a remarkable metabolism.

Scabior, however, bore no tray, Evey noticed with marked disappointment. "Fenrir wants to see you," he announced without preamble.

Evey scoffed. "He could have come himself. It would have saved you the trouble." She stood up to face him. "Well? I'm locked up, mate. You have to open the gate if you want me to come with you," she pointed out wryly.

Scabior gave her a flat stare but made no reply as he moved to activate the door mechanism. Evey stepped out of her cell as he made his way back to it, but he didn't seem bothered that she'd taken the initiative. He simply kept on walking silently along the corridor, and Evey followed.

"You should stand up for yourself, you know. You don't have to do everything Greyback says. You seem like a decent person. Why do you serve him? What did he offer you? What's holding you here?" Pestering him with questions hadn't worked before, but Evey hoped that he might get irritated and let something useful slip. He didn't. He kept his eyes firmly ahead and refused to acknowledge anything she said. Well, if he thought he could out-stubborn her, he was in for a surprise. "Whatever Greyback promised you, I trust you're smart enough to know that it will never happen. Did he even tell you why I'm here? Did he explain that to you, o faithful second?" Evey asked with a smirk.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Scabior mumbled.

Ah. Progress. "I do not. Do you really condone murder? All of you here? I find it hard to believe that so many people could be like-minded, even if Greyback recruits only former inmates. Does he? Is that why you live here?" She wouldn't put it past him.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Scabior said suddenly. "Murder? He's not going to harm you, girl. He forbade anyone to even get close to you without his express consent."

Evey halted in the middle of the corridor and Scabior did likewise a moment later, though with obvious annoyance. "He bit me," she said through gritted teeth.

He let out an impatient sigh. "Yeah, I know that," he retorted. "He explained it all to me."

"Oh? Did he really?" Evey said. "And what excuses did he make for butchering my family?"

Scabior narrowed his eyes at her, obviously confused. Explained it all, my Aunt Fanny, Evey thought wryly. "Maybe you should enquire about the details. But regardless of that, he still bit me, and I'm a woman. He couldn't have known that I was going to survive, could he?" she went on. Scabior was shaking his head, likely in denial. "He's deceiving you, Scabior. How can you not see that?" Evey said softly.

Scabior hesitated, but only for a moment. "What a pile of tosh," he muttered. He started to walk again. "Come along now. He dislikes waiting."

"I take it you met Sherlock?" Greyback asked after Evey had settled down in the chair opposite him. He hadn't offered her a seat; she'd simply taken it. Judging by Scabior's faint but outraged gasp, it was something Greyback disapproved of, though he didn't show it.

"Sherlock?" Evey repeated blankly. She made certain to keep her eyes on Greyback's as she spoke.

"The wolf who brought you your breakfast. An uncommon name, but his mother was crazy about Conan Doyle."

Evey couldn't care less about this bloke's backstory. "Why do you keep introducing everyone to me? You think I care if his name's Sherlock or Susan? What's next? You're going to show me pictures of their kids?"

"Most of them don't have children, sadly." Oddly enough, he did look saddened by this fact. "And I do this because it's the polite thing to do, and because you're going to be here for a while. You might as well get acquainted with your new…housemates."

Evey rolled her eyes. "Did you summon me here just to tell me this?" she demanded. And did he honestly believe that being polite was going to make her more amenable?

"I wanted to know if you were comfortably accommodated."

Codswallop. "Then wouldn't it have been more logical for you to check on me in the cell, instead of having Scabior bring me all the way here?" Evey said dryly.

Greyback's face hardened. "You'll have to come to terms with the fact that I'm in charge here, girlie. I don't go to people. They come to me."

"And what are you going to do if I refuse to comply, next time? Will you have Scabior or Susan drag me here?"

Um. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. It might give him ideas.

Greyback eyed her for a moment before replying. "I'll wager I'm more resilient to pain than you are," he said quietly.

Before Evey had time to wonder what he meant by that, Greyback grabbed a letter opener on his desk and stabbed himself in the abdomen – right in the liver, if her vague knowledge of the human body served.

Her hands reflexively applied pressure to the wounded area, but she soon went into shock and found herself unable to breathe, her vision blurring. She slowly slid off the chair and fell to the floor with a crash, whimpering, tears of agony leaking down her face.

The world went dark.

When she regained consciousness, a few seconds later, it was all gone – the wound and the pain were gone, anyway. Her already dirty T-shirt was now caked with blood, but she wasn't even sore as she heaved herself back in the chair. The memory of the pain, however, was still fresh in her mind, and she winced at the sight of the letter opener.

"I'm sure you could get used to it," Greyback said flatly. He looked as though nothing had happened, despite the blood that stained his shirt. "But surely you'll agree that it would be more…pleasant for you if you weren't living in constant pain – or fear of it." He gave her a pointed look.

Evey made no reply. What could she possibly say? The man was obviously insane.

Greyback nodded as if she'd just agreed to his words and called out to Scabior, who was waiting outside the room. He ordered his second to take Evey to the showers, then back to her cell, but to leave the door open and to rehang the curtain.

Well, this is going to be even more fun than I anticipated, Evey thought glumly as she was marched outside Greyback's office.