by J. A. Saare
"I could pull Angela from her cell now, give you a lesson?"
I kept my gaze level with his, staring him down.
I didn't say a word.
"Would you like to know what I did to Peter?"
Angela went crazy. I smelled her rage.
"Where is he?" she roared, slamming her hands against her cage. "What did you do to him? Tell me!"
"This is how things work here," he told me and stood.
He went to the wall and removed what looked like a cattle prod. "Angela, tell our guest you're sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I'll be good," she cried out. "Don't!"
He unlocked the door to my cage. I peered at the object in his hand.
I tried to stand but my legs wobbled.
I couldn't defend myself.
"This is her fault," he said, swinging the door wide. "Thank her later."
The end of the bar sparked, the electrodes on the tip full of power, and he came at me. The tip caught my arm. The jolt went through my muscles, making them cramp, and caused me to yelp. It wasn't merely an electric current. This felt far worse. He waited a few seconds and tapped the implement against my stomach, leg, and then my head.
I fell, landing face first on the ground.
He didn't say another word.
The doors closed, and he went back to the counter.
As he worked with the blood sample he'd taken, and I fought to breathe, I wondered why so much had changed for me. Had I brought this on myself? Was this my punishment for leaving the pack? If I'd stayed with Noah, would this have happened? Even after the pain vanished, I stayed put. I monitored his movements and time passed. I tried to get a better look at the room.
It was compact and small. I didn't see cameras.
There was only one entrance, which was also the exit.
It seemed like hours had passed when he walked to the bars between us and tossed a hunk of meat to me. "Breakfast," he said and swiped his hands over his shirt. "We'll speak soon." I didn't rush to eat and his eyes met mine. "Remember the rules."
He went to Angela's cage and retrieved two buckets.
I gazed around and saw two buckets inside my cell as well.
Urinating and defecating in plastic tubs. How degrading.
He turned with them in hand and exited the room.
"I'm sorry," Angela whispered.
I picked up the meat and moved toward the bars. I could see her clearly, her cell was not far. Her body looked too thin, her brown hair matted and tangled at her shoulders. I reached through the metal barring my exit, aimed, and threw it at her. The meat landed directly in front of her cage. Her arm came out, she swiped it up, and I heard more disturbing chews and slurps.
"You know Peter?" I asked.
She stopped eating. "He wasn't goading me?"
"Why would he?"
"To put me in my place. He's done it more than once." I heard movement and turned toward the sound. She'd ditched the meat and peered at me through the bars, her brown eyes tormented. "Do you know him? Do you know where he is?"
"I know him."
"Where is he?" She pressed her head against the bars. I saw the desperation in her eyes. "Is he alright?"
"You first," I said, needing answers of my own. "How do you know him?"
"He's my best friend."
Damn. "How did you get here?"
"I'd gone with Peter to a club he liked. Everything had been fine. When we left and went outside to wait for our taxi, someone hit him, and someone else grabbed me. Peter tried to follow, I saw him. But that's all I can remember." Her heavy breathing filled the air. "Did they kill him? Please, tell me. Did they take him?" I didn't answer immediately and she said, "I don't even know what day it is. I don't know how long I've been gone. I've measured everything by people that have come in and out."
"You've killed people?"
I'd experienced the rules firsthand.
If people had come and gone, she'd been the cause.
"No, I'd never do that. Don't read this wrong. That's what he wants. They've come and gone because whatever they were given killed them. I was punished when they spoke up. Not the other way around."
"You were you the first one brought here?"
"No." She sounded hallow. "The other cages were being used. Only one lasted longer than a month."
"So you've been here the longest? In a manner of speaking."
"I think so."
"Where were you when you were taken? As in the location."
"Does it matter?"
"It might."
"A private club outside of Nashville. It doesn't have a name."
"Where is it?"
"What?"
"Where was the club."
"Hideaway Hills."
I took a deep breath and didn't scent a lie. "How long ago?"
"How long ago?" she repeated, voice rising. "I told you I have no concept of time. It feels like I've been here forever."
I didn't know how to tell her, so I simply did. "Peter is dead."
"What?" It sounded like I'd taken away her last semblance of hope. "He is?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
She broke down, sobbing.
"What is this place?" She didn't respond and I moved to the bars, pressing my face against them. "Answer me. They have my sister-in-law." When she still didn't answer, I snarled, "She's pregnant!"
"It's hell," she answered as she tried to breathe. "I told you."
"What is Dante doing?"
"Experiments." She swiped a hand over her eyes.
"Why are you here? Why would he want to experiment on humans?"
"How should I know? I'm not human. Well, not anymore."
I stopped and studied her, really looked at her.
Our gazes met and held.
Then I observed scents in the air again.
When realization struck, it struck hard.
She'd been changed.
No wonder Dante had kept her alive.
Wolf-men existed, but not women.
The fatality rate was at least ninety-nine percent. Even the ones who survived didn't do so with their minds intact.
"Shit," I sighed. Someone had started experimenting on werewolf genetics. I thought about what Noah had said. Rogue werewolves and vampires were working with the Coalition and Watchers. "How do you know Dante?"
"From the club." It sounded like she'd aged a hundred years.
"Was he human when you met him?"
"I never met him. I saw him there. I have no idea what he was."
"Did anyone else see him there? Was he alone?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure," she answered. "Would that help?"
"I don't know, but I hope so." That was the truth.
I'd talked to Muriel. She knew something was off.
The vampire promised she'd study surveillance footage.
"We have to get out of here," I said, picturing Trisha.
"Good luck. We're buried here."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed and lowered her head, severing eye contact.
"I've been to floor upstairs." She showed me the arm I hadn't seen. Numerous areas had been scarred with silver. Her arm would remain that way, deformed by a madman. "I was sedated, but I remember a few things. There are no windows, only doors."
"Angela?" I said, trying to think.
"Angie," she corrected.
"Angie. We are going to get out of here. Together. If you'll help me."
Time lapsed, but I remained quiet.
"What should we do?"
"Work together." I mulled over what she'd said, and what I knew. Dante needed Angela. He wouldn't kill her. "Think together. How often does he come down here?"
"Not as often as he used to. I've been alone so long, I thought I'd go insane."
"The people he brought here were men?"
"Yeah. You're the first woman I've seen."
"You know why, don't you?"
I scented her fear. "No."
"It's su
pposed to be impossible to create females werewolves. You are more than rare, you're a miracle."
"Are you, too? Is that why you're here?"
"Not like you," I sighed. "I was born like this, but my mother was human. I inherited the trait from my father." I considered what she'd said and asked, "Did you know any of men he brought here? From the club?"
"No."
"Is he the one that bit you?"
"He didn't bite me. He injected me."
Oh dear God. "An injection?"
"I didn't know what he'd done. But a man that was already in a cage when they put me in one, Brandon, told me what was going on. He'd shifted once, but when the full moon came and we shifted together, he didn't come back. I never saw him again."
Son of a bitch.
"Did Brandon tell you anything about himself?"
"He'd been at Dreams. He'd left right before final call. When he went outside, someone clubbed him over the head. He woke up here. Just like I did. He'd already shifted once, and he'd seen people come and go. He told me what was going on. He warned me what would happen to me."
"Dreams?"
"Yeah. It's right outside of Nashville."
"When you shifted, were there any problems?"
"The first time I thought I was going to die, and I was so scared. I didn't know what was happening. I made it through. Then he gave me injections before the full moon. It hurt the first time, but now it's agony. My sense of smell and taste don't work right, either. My appetite is crazy. I'm never full."
Her mind was clear. That was good.
But the other symptoms were concerning.
"How is your sense of smell and taste different?"
"The meat he gives me smells and tastes like metal."
"That's normal." She didn't understand the changes in her body. "What does he do upstairs?"
"I'm not sure." She indicated the scars on her arms. "I come back with these."
"Where does the yelling and screaming come from?"
"I don't know."
She didn't have the answers I needed.
"You've tried to run?"
"Once. The first time. I was sedated, but made it out of the room. He's not alone up there. There are guards, I think. Someone shot me." She moved, revealing her leg. The scar looked far worse than the ones on her arm. The tissue had been blown apart. "After that, he stopped taking chances. He uses a collar and foot restraints. You can't run if you can't walk."
I sank down, feeling the cold concrete beneath me.
I had no idea what to do.
"What's your name?" she questioned. I heard her eating again.
"Raven," I answered. "You can call me Ray."
Chapter Eighteen
When Dante entered the lab the next day, I didn't say a word. He tossed another piece of meat to Angela after he'd taken blood. Eventually he came to me. I stayed back, resting on the lumpy mattress I'd been forced to sleep on.
"Breakfast," he said and tossed a thick slice of beef at me.
I pretended to be ravenous, took the food, and moved to the back of the cage. As soon as I was there, I pretended to eat. When he wasn't looking, I stashed the slab of meat under the bed I had to sleep on. I'd give it to Angela later. He'd been drugging the meat. I scented the essence of bane and something else. That's how he kept the wolf at bay.
He came to the bars at my cage and said, "Give me your arm."
I moved toward him, keeping my emotions in check.
It wasn't easy. I wanted to snap at his face.
He tightened a thick rubber tourniquet over my bicep. "I saw you on the news," he said and picked up the needle and vial to take my blood. "You could be the breakthrough we need." I didn't respond as he pierced my skin and blood flowed. "You have no idea how important this is. How life changing."
I wanted to ask questions but didn't.
I remained quiet.
When he looked at me, I knew I had him by the balls. An alpha without true superiority wouldn't shut up. The less I said, the better.
"You're mad, I smell it."
No, he didn't. I could scent the lie.
He pulled the needle from my arm and released the band. "I'll collect your chamber pots. Put them by the door."
I inched back and held his gaze.
I was not staying in this place.
It's only a matter of time.
He moved back, staring at me. "Don't test me."
I kept my lips zipped, gaze leveled.
His anger spiked.
"Do you want to know about your sister-in-law?" he asked, smiling snidely.
I'd tried to train my face to show zero emotion. His nose wasn't that strong, I could tell. But he saw the response in my eyes.
"She's fine, for now. But you could change that."
I immediately took a submissive position, lowering my head.
"Good. You are listening."
He went back to the counter with medical gadgets I knew nothing about. Even then, I could smell the resentment coming from him. He could pretend he didn't care, but he did. It was part of his nature. I wouldn't respond to him on my own, nor did I respect his position and dominance.
That pissed him off.
I only had to buy more time and try to stay alive.
Noah had said Violet was coming to the compound.
She didn't need a scent to find the man who'd brought me here. If she came to the house then maybe, just maybe, she could create a trail and locate me and Trisha. But time, while a blessing, was also an enemy. Trisha would go into labor soon.
Dante collected a notebook and returned to the bars. I grabbed the plastic buckets, put them by the door, and returned to the mattress. As I sat on it, I noted it was remarkably clean. As were the sheets. I assumed it would become dirty and disguising if I didn't take care with them.
"I'm going to ask questions. I suggest you answer them."
I stayed on the mat and leveled a stare at him.
"How old were you when you shifted the first time?"
I loathed responding but did. "Fifteen."
The answer pleased him. "Did you know you were changing?"
"How do you mean?" It could be dangerous to answer questions with questions, but it would rile him up. That was my plan. To piss him off, until he lost sense of reason.
"Did you feel the changes beforehand?"
"Yes," I said and then immediately followed with, "no."
"Which is it?"
"Both."
He studied me for a moment. "Are you testing me?"
"No." I didn't provide further information.
He wanted input, I wouldn't give it to him.
Not in the way he wanted.
"You mated with a werewolf male. Noah Cameron."
I felt my wolf stir. It had been so long.
The relief I experienced was profound.
He knew Noah's name, meaning Noah could be in danger.
I tried to mask my reaction. "Yes and no."
"Explain."
I couldn't do that with a yes or no answer.
"I can't." That was an honest answer without details.
"Is that possible? To be mated but not?"
How did I know? I thought I did, but did I really? "I think so."
"How?" he asked, scribbling on the paper.
"I don't know."
He looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Do you want me to have Angela thank you for what happens next?"
I considered the question. "I'm not lying to you. Scent the air."
Use your nose, asshole.
He took me at my word. "When did you break connection? How did it happen."
I didn't know what to say. The connection had never been broken.
"I didn't."
"You were involved with a human." He looked at the paper in his hand, tapping his pen on the board. "Steven McDaniel."
First Noah. Now Steven.
He'd gotten that information from somewhere.
"How do you know that?"
I didn't want to answer. I wanted him out of my face. "No."
His eyes flicked up, and he glared at me. He rose, put the items in his hand on the counter, and went for the prod. I felt guilty, knowing Angie would pay for my big mouth. I should have kept my temper in check. But he wouldn't seriously harm her, I was certain. There was a reason she hadn't been killed. Dante needed her, he'd been pretending he didn't.
As he used the same electric prod. I watched closely.
The pain he inflicted was bad but not life-threatening.
Angie cried out, but didn't say a word.
He stopped after a couple of blows.
As he inched back from the cage and collected her bed pans, the loud blare of a doorbell got my attention. It felt surreal, especially in a place like this. I could have been sitting at home in the living room. He moved swiftly, swinging the door to her cage closed with his leg. He took the buckets with him and rushed out of the room. When I looked at the bars keeping her inside the tiny cell, I saw the opening we needed.
"Angie!" I tried to keep my voice low. "Get up. Look at your door."
When she didn't move immediately, I wanted to scream at her.
Then she wobbled toward the bars and pushed them aside.
Holy hell, she looked bad.
Her hair would have to be cut, possibly shaved. There was no way to remove the heavy matting at the back. Her cheekbones looked too large and severe in her small face. I could count each one of her ribs as they jutted from her skin.
She made it to my cage and prodded the lock. "I can't open it."
"Then don't. Look around for a weapon. Doesn't matter what."
She left me and sorted through cabinets. "I don't see anything."
"What about a pen or pencil? He used a pen earlier. Or syringes? He has vials in the cabinets, right? Do you recognize the labels? Can you see what's inside them?"
"I don't recognize anything." She pulled a couple of vials down. "Propranolol and Versed? Let me see what else is here."
"No, stop!" I knew those drugs. Mom had several surgeries, both had been used. Propranolol could sedate someone, but Versed did it quick and caused memory loss. That would explain the injuries Angie didn't remember. "Get a syringe and bring them to me. Hurry!"
She knelt over a bottom drawer, snatched something from it, and rose to look over the counter. The silver cuffs attached to thin chains rattled with each of her movements. She came to me and handed me the items.
