Primal Instinct

by Ally Parker

  Doctor LeRoy smiled, and Kenzie found it funny how a smile so big couldn’t steal the coldness out of her eyes. Doctor LeRoy gestured toward the building. “If you could follow me, we may begin inducting everyone for your stay.” She turned and walked back to the main path.

  Stanley tugged on her hands and drew her farther along the building’s edge, away from the group of people. Jerry walked ahead of them and opened a steel fire exit door. A long, brightly lit tunnel burrowed in from the entrance. Kenzie paused, and fear snapped at her heels. Stanley pulled harder on her wrists. She closed her eyes and swallowed, gathering her courage.

  “I knew it!”

  Kenzie’s eyes popped open, and Stanley’s face was inches from her. “You know exactly what’s going on, don’t you?”

  Blood pumped fast through her body. Her arms and legs tingled. Damn it! Time was up. Not wasting another moment, she pulled her wrists down, and yanked out of Stanley’s hold.

  “Davis, Jerry,” Stanley barked. “Lock the door! The meds have worn off.”

  The door clanged shut, and Stanley’s meaty hands bit into her shoulders, shoving her into the wall. Asshole.

  “Don’t be a hero,” he hissed into her ear.

  “Let me go!”

  “There’s no way out of this for you. Give up.”

  Give up. Not while air filled her lungs. The first chance she got, she was out of here.

  “If you don’t do as you’re told, I’ll make you.” He ground her face into the wall. “No trouble.”

  Slowly, she nodded, and Stanley yanked her around and shoved her forward. She trailed along behind Davis, focusing on anything but the breaths fanning over the top of her hair. Davis’s broad shoulders filled the narrow passageway. All three of the men were huge. The kind you’d find pumping weights eight hours a day. Jerry stood to the side of a doorway all stiff like a cardboard cut-out and waited for each of them to pass through.

  They entered a large hallway. She looked around at all the doors leading off the corridor. Fancy cut-out waves of red acrylic ran through strategically placed metal backboards separating each room. The hall expanded into a large lobby. Kenzie caught the tail end of the group of people as they passed through the glass doors of the facility. The guards led her into a courtyard as the group started slipping into another section.

  “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  Gritting her teeth, her mind did a Rolodex on tactical moves, and she came up empty. As much as it pissed her off, she had no choice but to follow along like an obedient pet. None of the men or women candidates, as the doctor called them, looked equipped to launch a rescue mission even if she had kicked up a fuss. Hell, they’d all probably die if she’d yelled out.

  Doctor LeRoy stood to the side and smiled with tight lips, sweeping her hand toward a corridor. “That’s it. Keep heading through the doors, and we will begin the tests shortly.”

  The doctor’s gaze flickered to Kenzie. Cold. Calculating. Unyielding. Without a doubt, the doctor would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Jerry led them toward another metal door at the side of the courtyard. The ground changed from a smooth path to a fancy, paved frame. Her sneakers snagged on a crevasse, and she lurched forward, toppling into Davis and Stanley.

  All three of them tumbled to the ground. She landed heavily onto her stomach.

  “Stupid-ass bitch,” Stanley spat.

  Something hard dug into her hip. She stretched her fingers and wrapped them around the cold, hard metal of her trusty blade. The men hadn’t taken it from her; they probably assumed she wouldn’t be carrying.

  Stanley yanked her up and shook her shoulders, causing her jaw to rattle.

  “She has a weapon!” Jerry yelled.

  Her gaze shot to the knife and back to Stanley’s face. Panic shot through her, but she tamped it down. “I... ”

  Stanley ripped the knife from her grip. His hands banded around her arms painfully. “What did I tell you?”

  He stepped in her space, and spittle sprayed across her face. “No fucking funny business.”

  He shoved her back, and she stumbled. Behind Stanley, Davis and Jerry flanked him like some schoolyard posse, staring down their noses at her with flat, emotionless eyes. Movement snagged her attention back to Stanley, and she found herself staring down the barrel of his weapon. Her eyes bulged, and she choked on a sob.

  “You’re not going to like the consequences.” He cocked the trigger and shot.

  4

  Jaxx sped down the streets approaching Lucas’s neighborhood. Burned-out cars sat in overgrown, vacant lots, and every second place had its windows boarded. A few men sat smoking on their porch and eyed him as he passed. He knew he could handle himself, but these parts of town were no place for a human to wander alone in the dark.

  The moon inched higher into the night. Lucas would shift soon. Alone. Untrained. Unprepared. If Lucas hadn’t taken precautions, his female and child would be in danger. Slowing the revs on his bike, he turned down the street, saw Lucas’s car in the drive, and frowned. If Lucas was home, why the hell wasn’t the were answering any of his calls? He rolled up the curb and parked his bike. He removed his brain bucket and unzipped his leather jacket.

  Lights beamed from the surrounding homes, and he could smell the aroma of various foods cooking. Details noticeably absent from Lucas’s house. He walked up and rapped on the door. Not surprised when there was no answer, Jaxx pulled out some tools and picked the lock. Senses amped up, he stretched them further, seeking information. Where are you, Lucas?

  He pushed his way through the door, looking around the room. A three-seater couch faced a small television. Nothing remarkable jumped out to him other than the pungent odor of cleaning chemicals. Under the strong stench of the chemicals, a light, feminine odor concentrated under a cushion. He crouched, lifting the fabric, and pulled out a worn brown teddy bear. Drawing the bear to his nose, he could smell residual fear.

  An odd sensation fluttered to life in his chest, and it took him a moment to realize it was fear. He found he didn’t particularly like the feeling. He’d never allowed humans to get close enough to matter. Somehow over the years, Lucas’s female, Leila, and daughter, Milly, mattered to him. Hell, he had owed Lucas a life debt after the human had unknowingly saved him from hunters years earlier. It was why he’d broken protocol to save him.

  Jaxx put the bear down and stepped over a remote control in the middle of the floor. Parts of the carpet still looked damp. He squatted and ran his hand over the fabric, bringing his hand to his nose and sniffing. Grunting, he jerked his hand away. Bleach. Interesting. Jaxx peered into the kitchen and frowned. Despite no obvious damage, something seemed off. He walked over the linoleum, and his boot kicked a small fragment of glass. It wasn’t unusual for humans to break things. Yet that knowledge didn’t stop him from inspecting the windows. He eyed the back door; the crystal-clear surface told him someone had replaced the glass. Recently. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the place appear normal.

  He walked down the short hall, inspecting the family photos covering the walls. Some pictures were with Lucas and Leila, some with Milly at different stages of the young girl’s life. To his right a closed door with solid-pink letters spelling Milly were splayed across the ply. He pushed it open and saw the bed was unmade, and a small cluster of toys sat around a table with cups in front of them.

  By the dwindling smell in the air, it had been longer than twenty-four hours since Milly had been in her room. He backed out and continued to the only other room in the small home. A double bed with rumpled sheets sat to the side of the modest room. Small handcrafted knickknacks dotted a dresser along the wall with more pictures of family. Clothes lay haphazardly in a pile on the floor. The scent of sex perfumed the air, but no signs of Lucas or his girls. Heading back to the front door, a reflection of light flashed from the floor. He tilted his head, his vision zeroing to the spot.

  Jaxx squatted and tossed a toy out of the way, revealing a syri
nge with the remnants of some kind of green concoction. He sniffed the needle and reared back. Blood and the overpowering stench of chemicals burned his nose. Whatever was in the syringe, he knew it wasn’t good, and the tip was coated in Lucas’s blood—a smell he’d never forget. Not after he found the human bleeding out in the alley.

  Even though there were no signs of a struggle, Jaxx’s gut screamed that something had happened, and it sure as shit wasn’t something good. His gaze ping-ponged over each item in the room. He inspected the wooden legs of the chair and found several small drops of blood. He scratched off a flake, drawing it to his nose. The scent was fresh. His gaze shot back to the syringe lying against the wall. It wasn’t Lucas’s blood.

  Lucas had been injected with something. But what? Human medication shouldn’t have affected him. By rights, he should have been able to overpower any human stupid enough to attempt to hurt his family. What had gone wrong? It was obvious someone knew their secret. They’d come prepared, and now Lucas, his family, and Ethan were missing. Damn it, Lucas was his responsibility. He was meant to keep him safe. He growled low. If anything had happened to them, somebody would pay.

  As soon as he found them—if he found them—he would order they all move to Shadow Moon. Saint would clear it. It didn’t matter if Leila was still human, a minor issue to be rectified. The paperwork was lodged, and the rest was just waiting to happen. Of course it was against their laws to force a change. If Leila wouldn’t accept the truth or rejected becoming a were, she would be forced to live in Wolfden, a place where humans lived under the protection of shifters.

  The syringe would need to be analyzed. His cell buzzed, and Jaxx grabbed the thing out of his pocket. Saint’s picture filled his screen, and Jaxx pressed the talk button. “Talk to me.”

  He walked to where he’d dropped the bear, bent and picked it up. Standing, he moved his way to the entrance and pressed the lock. With a final glance, he shut the door behind him and walked to his bike, opening his saddle bag and placing the bear in one section and the needle in another.

  “Did you find Ethan? Or Lucas?”

  He blew out a breath. “No. And my gut says there was a struggle.”

  Through the line Jaxx could hear murmured voices in the back ground.

  Saint cursed.

  “I think he was taken. I think they were all taken. I found something—”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Through the line, Jaxx could hear Cade’s gruff voice, and Saint snarled.

  “We have a situation.” Saint’s voice sounded grim. “Hunter phoned in. He followed a female civilian we had been tracking down and came across some kind of facility. The stench of death poured from it. The thing is, he could also smell weres too.”

  “Damn! I’m on it. Send me the coordinates, and I’m there.”

  He ended the call, zipped up his jacket, and strapped on his helmet. The needle would have to wait until he got back to pack lands. His cell buzzed, and he looked at the address on the screen. He knew exactly where the place was, and he was twenty minutes away if he kept his wrist heavy on the throttle. Slipping the cell back into his pocket, he turned the key and revved the engine, speeding into the night.

  Kenzie groaned and licked her dry lips. Each movement took all her strength. Where am I? What the hell happened? She opened her eyes and froze. She was alone, sitting in a chair—she glanced down and frowned at the rope binding. She seemed to be in an office. Testing the rope, she tugged and winced. Damn it. She tested her legs and found they also were strapped down. What the hell?

  Her heartbeat picked up. Goose bumps ran across her skin, and she looked up to the vent blowing icy air down on her like gale-force-winds from Antarctica. The room looked like no one used it. Bookcases along the wall sat empty, and a barren desk stood right in front of her. Not even a computer sat upon the leather-clad surface. Other than a white lab coat slung across the back of a chair, there was no evidence anyone had recently been in the room.

  It didn’t take long for the memories to click into place. “What the hell did they shoot me with?”

  The way her muscles had seized told her it was a stun gun of some kind. One that packed a helluva punch. Did people normally pass out after being stunned? She shook her head. She hadn’t been dragged to the doctor’s office for a checkup. Whatever they wanted, she doubted it would be good.

  Was Ava kept in this place? Were they hurting her? A million scenarios raced through Kenzie’s head, and each got bloodier and more violent. The doctor was capable of anything and would do unspeakable things if it got her what she wanted. Like the time Kenzie had been made to inject some kind of drug into an old man. When she refused, Ava had been strapped down and a wet cloth covering her face and bucket after bucket of water doused over her. She forced the thoughts into a small box and beat the lid closed. Now wasn’t the time to break down. She was in deep shit and needed to focus on getting her ass out of there.

  Kenzie tugged with all her strength against the rope. Gritting her teeth against the burn across her wrists, she pulled again. And again, until her skin was slick with blood. Sweat busted across her brow, and nausea swirled bile up her throat. The pain was unbearable. But for years she’d been a slave, forced to submit to the whims of a master. Fear had kept her bound, and now it was time to break out of the manacles. The rope gave a fraction, and she paused, her breath heaving. While her heart still hammered in her chest, there was no way she would give up. Digging deep into her mental reserves, she braced herself in the chair and wrenched her arm. Biting her lip, she muffled her cries. Blood ran down her fingers and dripped into the short, gray carpet.

  A sob tore out of her and she turned her head into her shoulder biting hard on the fabric of her sweater Freedom tugged at her wrists, inch by inch, until they slipped out of the restraints. She could do this; she’d been through worse. Worried someone would find her before she had a chance to escape, she spared only a couple of seconds to pull herself together.

  Clipped boots smacking down the hall froze her in place. She glanced behind her, and a shadowed figure walk past the frosted glass. Exhaling, she got to work on her feet and glanced around for a way out. The rope fell to the floor. She shot up and tiptoed over to the door. White noise came from outside the office. She held her breath, listening. An alarm boomed out of a speaker in the corner of the room. “Red alert. We have a red alert. Requesting all officers to room 115. I repeat—.” The person speaking screamed, and his voice cut off.

  Eyes wide, Kenzie glanced to the door. A yellow light flashed like a beacon. The guard stationed outside the door cursed and ran down the hall. Silently, she thanked whatever misfortune lured him away. Several more dark figures passed within seconds. She went to reach for her knife and swore. She needed a weapon. Her gaze ran back to the desk. Surely there would be at least a letter opener in a drawer, something she could use to defend herself. She rushed around the desk and pushed the coat-covered chair out of the way. Pulling the top drawer, she groaned. Locked. Of course.

  She looked down at herself. What a mess. Blood and dirt marked her gray tee and jeans. It wouldn’t take the guards long to realize she belonged in a cell, especially if she looked like she’d been in a fight. She glanced at the white coat over the back of the chair. That would do.

  Sliding into her disguise, she winced as the fabric rubbed on her wrists. A small weight in the jacket pocket distracted her, and she shoved her hand in and pulled out a swipe card. She smiled at that promising piece of technology. Kenzie finger-combed her hair and made sure the coat sleeves covered the worst of her wounds. Cautiously, she cracked the door open and listened. No hammer of feet pounded along the tiled floor, nor could static from the guards’ comm units be heard.

  All she had to do was look like she belonged, act as if she held some authority, and with any luck no one would be the wiser. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open to find the hall deserted. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to the left and headed down the corri
dor. Heavy footfalls sounded, and Kenzie veered to the first door she saw, like that had been her destination all along.

  A small control unit sat to the right of the door. She yanked out the security card and swiped it along the device. Holding her breath, she waited. The light turned green, and she pushed open the door, shoving it shut behind her. Panting, she threw herself against the steel and held her breath. Only after the stomping feet ran past did she exhale. The air soured, and she gagged. Her hand reached up to cover her nose and mouth. Sweat beaded across her brow. It must have been over one hundred degrees in the small room. She turned her head to look around and froze.

  A pile dead bodies had been tossed on top of one another, simply discarded, like a human life meant nothing. Men’s and women’s faces were frozen in masks of agony. She shook her head; there had to be at least fifty people tossed in here like garbage. Was Ava in this room, buried under a mountain of people who shared her fate? A sob tore from her chest. Jesus.

  In the corner of the room, an iron door marked an incinerator that explained why it was hot as hades in the room. A whisper sounded to her right, and she peered down the section of wall. Cages looking like something you’d find in an animal-testing facility were bracketed in place. She bit back the urge to ask who was there.

  Peering down the aisle, she saw nothing. Another noise skated in the air. Small. Subtle, like fabric rubbing together. Something was down there. She wiped her sweaty palms on the jacket and reminded herself to act as if she belonged. She walked down the passageway and stilled. Her breath caught, and tears prickled in her eyes. The very end cage on the bottom row held a little girl, no more than six, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She curled into a ball, her head buried into her knees, and her shoulders silently shook.

  Kenzie realized the small noises were the tiny sobs of the child, a petite little thing dressed in a filthy nightgown. Rage pulsed through her veins like liquid magma. She rushed toward the cage, and the girl’s head shot up, her blond curls mattered around her horror-stricken face. The child shook her head and cried louder. “I promise I’ll be good. I want my mommy.”