Awakening: Book 1

by L. T. Marshall

  “You’re lying. I don’t know what you’re talking about, or half of what you said, but I know hybrids aren’t a thing.” Terror overtakes me as his words filter in, and my mind refuses to digest what he’s saying, because it’s simply wrong. The wolves pride their bloodlines and purity, it’s a massive part of our being and hierarchy.

  Mixed breeds don’t exist, because if they did, the pure bloods would destroy them. They don’t want dilution and mongrels among our blood. They’re bad enough when weak DNA like my families infects a pack, and those people become calm land workers with no urge to fight and dominate. It’s why the Whyte pack never had any kind of claim to the mountain as a ruling pack and the Santos own it. Our kind thrives on dominance, we need alphas and purity to survive.

  The doctor clutches a flat hand to his chest, aghast. Eyes wide, an expression that translates offence.

  “Lie. I never lie when it comes to science, my dear. I’m a bio chemist of the highest order with a special interest in your kind. Dedicated my life to it and it’s all I research. Hybrids are my forte!! I would so love to get your samples under my microscope and see if the stories are true, and show you for yourself, the absolute wonder of your own genetics. Warring species in one body, and yet they seem to have completely bloomed! I mean look at you…. utter perfection.”

  My blood runs cold, my eyes raking him and trying to make sense of what he’s saying, so many questions forming and gathering on my tongue. My head scrambling with the uncertainty that he might actually be telling the truth. But that would make my mother…. I can’t even.

  Deacon reappears unexpectedly, interrupting with the beep of the door before he enters, and throws us both a strange look that suggests he doesn’t like whatever feeling we just gave him. The atmosphere is tense, and the doctor seems to lose his enthusiastic energy and slinks back out of the way, probably afraid to admit he told me way too much. I can tell, that despite co-habiting in this place, there’s no real bond between them and the doctor is as wary of my prison guard as I am.

  “Alpha. Juan. will be here in two days…. This one…. Her name is Alora, and interestingly, from our own mountain, so take from that what you will. She isn’t going anywhere.” Deacon turns to me, a look of disgust rippling across his face as he scowls at me, and everything inside of me seems to disperse in a wave of numb. The fear claws through me that Juan knew exactly who I was with just one call and is coming here personally to decide my fate. That’s not a good sign.

  “The mountain….” The doctor whispers is so lightly under his breath I doubt Deacon hears him, but I do, and catch that slight hint of recognition that flitters across his brow before he pushes it away and locks his facial expression on blank.

  Damn me for being a white wolf! That had to be the defining detail that gave it away. Maybe also the fact he knows I’m missing now, and one lone femme, this close to home, was probably a no brainer.

  I raise my brows at Deacon with false bravado as if to say, ‘so what?’ His eyes narrow at mine and the scowl gets more prominent.

  “So…. You’re a runaway from our own pack? Juan said he’s been looking for you, traitor. How coincidental you end up here…. clearly looking for something you shouldn’t be! You’re going down to isolation until he gets here, and then you can be someone else’s problem. Hopefully his, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect punishment for a flawed failure who betrayed her own kind.” I don’ doubt Juan has conducted a whole new story about why I’m public enemy number one and arguing it is going to be futile. Deacon is a believer, a loyal to Juan’s sub pack, and it’s boringly obvious. He was put here, probably because he is one of the Juan brainwashed who do exactly as they are told, and questions nothing.

  Deacon grabs me by the upper arm ruthlessly, and hauls me off the bed forcefully, my body still a dead weight and I almost fall on the floor with the sudden demand to use my limbs properly. Grabbing out to catch myself and instantly overwhelmed with dizziness at being bolted upright.

  “Careful, careful…. She’s a very special specimen and still a young lady. Kindness does not cost extra, Mr. Deacon. Compassion. A little human dignity. If we have her for two days yet, then I need to harvest samples for my studies and could use the time to learn more about her very unique blood! I can’t let this opportunity go to waste, and I certainly can’t stand and watch you damage her.” The doctor is torn between real human concern for a person, and that of a scientist with his eye on a prized lab rat. I can’t even be mad about it, but it does open a window of opportunity.

  “Doc, she’s our prisoner, not a study volunteer. She’s a betrayer of my blood and I’ll handle her as such. The only place this chick is going, is down beside that mindless corpse they keep in bay two, and out of bounds for you and your quack colleagues in the lab. If we’re lucky, she’ll stay as quiet as her new roommate and be gone before she messes up anymore of my week.” Deacon is an asshole for sure. He pulls me with him, not waiting for my legs to catch up and despite my inner desire to not touch this idiot, I have to grab onto him or be dragged along behind him.

  “Sierra is not mindless. She’s sedated and detained by you thugs and your lack of vision… she’s a work of art, a person with feelings, and thoughts, and if Juan would only allow me to waken her and….”

  “Enough!!! Shut your mouth!! That’s a dead name…. just like you will be if you talk about her again.” Deacon barks at him hatefully, the tone scathing, and pins him with a forceful glare.

  The Doctor recoils, scolded, and red faced but I can feel his simmering anger with the mention of Sierra. The spark in him of real rage before he was shut down, and paces off to bubble under the surface, grabbing a nearby rag, and twisting it between his hands as we pass him. I can tell he’s trying so hard to hold his tongue.

  I’m speechless though, my mind racing at the confirmation she’s here and my mouth runs dry. I don’t fight Deacon as he bodily hauls me out the door at speed, no consideration that his grip is leaving marks on my skin, or that I’m tripping over every step as I try to regain control of my walking ability. His fingers biting into my arm as my legs, like jelly under me, try to keep up with his long fast stride. I end up clinging to the side of him like a needy child, aware my gown is sliding off, and I catch sight of the doctor one last time as he follows us out into the corridor and I strain back to see.

  He looks sad, defeated, and as he watches me get dragged away, I lock my eyes on him one last time as I clutch together a plan of sorts in my head that might give me a tiny hope of getting out of this. I throw him a desperate backwards second glance, an attempt to communicate.

  “I volunteer…. take your tests. I want to know why I’m white, and I’m not going to be doing anything else for two days.” I lie impulsively, loud enough for my voice to echo this hall. The doctor is a soft touch and he knows something about Sierra too. Maybe I can convince him to let me go, or to see her to figure out why she brought me here. It’s clutching at straws and my brain is scurrying to try and figure how this will help, but it’s all I have in the moment. Deacon falters, stopping us mid step with an exaggerated exhale of annoyance. He turns us to the doctor fully.

  The doctor’s face lights up with a glow that tells me he might be my key to getting out of here, before Juan shows up in two days, or at the least he may be a valuable ally if I can keep him latched onto my unique so called ‘hybrid blood’. Might be able to manipulate him into revealing more or getting lax with keeping me locked up. Deacon, I can tell is a lost cause, but the doctor, he just might be the weak link.

  I don’t believe anything he said about being a hybrid though. I think he’s a crackpot scientist who has sampled too many of his own test tubes from being in underground isolation, but if it gets me an angle to lever a possible way out, then I’m going to play on it. I’ll play along and nod my head and let him stick me with as many needles and swabs as it takes to win him around.

  “See, see, she has no objections and it’s only some blood and smears and s
uch. I will barely touch her, and it won’t interfere with her time here at all. Juan will never know.” The doctor’s enthusiasm and surge of newfound joy is energizing and solidifies my plan. Deacon scowls at him for the longest, tensest moment, as I hold my breath and pray.

  “She stays in bay one, you don’t take her anywhere else, and you are to be done before Juan gets anywhere near here. Not a word to him about it, at all!” Deacon lays down the law, relenting, probably for a quiet life, and it’s not like he’ll have to do anything.

  The doctor nods enthusiastically, like an excitable puppy, and I remain calm and neutral, shielding the sea of nerves rippling up inside of me. My heart is pounding, my insides trembling, but on the outside, I’m cool and calm. I have a chance of breaking out and it’s keeping my wits about me.

  I allow Deacon to turn me manually and haul me off through the door ahead of us to a second corridor, pushing through the swing door with haste. I blink at the harsh change to lighting, opening my eyes onto a white sterile passageway, with glossy surfaces, that shine bright, blinding with the force of the daylight LED lights. It creates an optical illusion of a vast white wall less space that blinds your corneas half to death with the intensity of the snow-white environment.

  It’s like being in my dream, creepily so. The one in which I saw Sierra, and I’m dazed a little by the surrealness of it. My heart rate escalates, my eyes raking around us as it starts to piece together and bring back memories and details of that light space where I met her. Being pulled along mindlessly as my thoughts drift repeatedly to her standing ahead of me, with no real sense of boundaries around us. It’s too striking a resemblance to ignore.

  The fates brought me here for a reason; they pushed me to run from Colton, and they hauled me east so I can’t ignore it. Meadow always said the fates were never wrong, and all of this is way too coincidental to be an accident, or to keep me as a non-believer. I’m here for a reason, and the dreams I’ve been having about her, it all suddenly makes so much sense.

  Save us.

  She meant it… she meant us…her…and me… And Colton. He’s wavering without his mom.

  We’re both here, and I seem to be the only one that can do anything about getting us out.

  Sierra

  Deacon is a brute of the highest order, who probably got his training in Juan’s school of charm for asshats, and half drags me, half lets me walk on my own feeble legs down the corridor to an elevator. Only stopping to bark orders at another guard sat at a desk nearby, before shoving me inside and taking me down to a level that has an air of aircraft hangar. The doors slide open to reveal a large, empty garage like space, in semi darkness, with concrete floors, and strip lighting on the ceiling, which stands a good twenty feet above us. The space is huge and there are three trucks parked at the far end on what looks like a platform, which I’m assuming raises up. It’s dull, definitely many degrees colder, and seems like a part no one frequents all too often.

  As we walk the lights begin to flick on automatically over our heads, and I note at the semi middle of the wall on the left a low glow is already illuminating from what seems to be an open alcove. From this angle I don’t really see what it is until we walk level with it and turn right, my head snapping to turn back, even while being dragged along away from it, so we head in its exact opposite direction where I catch glimpse of what it actually is.

  A room behind a full glass wall stretching its width for ample viewing, that looks like at one point it’s been a sectioned area for parking and was repurposed. There are tire grids running up to the window, but the inside room it has concrete smooth floors as though they were resurfaced. It houses a bed right in the center, surrounded by machines, and carts, and equipment, all making flashes, and low beeps, and hums, keeping the solitary figure within the bed silent.

  A motionless brunette woman, hard from this angle to tell if it’s Sierra, is laid out like sleeping beauty, amid wires and tubes, under a single dull spotlight hanging directly over the bed. It’s almost like an art piece of a priceless mummy in a museum, she’s so still, pale, and lifeless, and it tightens my stomach in knots, choking me with emotion.

  She’s on full view to this entire area in her glass box, yet completely unmanned and without any kind of caregiver keeping an eye on her, which speaks volumes. I guess all the monitors and machines are doing the job of people, and it breaks my heart to see her so alone, even if she isn’t aware of it. Colton would die if he saw the way she’s being kept, with no human contact, no care or interaction… just machines, and isolation, in a god damn basement. My heart aches for her, for him, and I’m glad he doesn’t know this is what Juan has done to his mom.

  Deacon gets annoyed with my straining backwards to stare and jerks my arm cruelly, snapping my face back around and I give him a hateful scowl, scared of him less and less the more I’m in his company. He’s a typical Santo bully and not unlike a lot of the pack were my whole life. Pushing people like me around, in a bid to exert his dominance in the hierarchy. He would last ten seconds out there if he made me mad enough to throw air at him, as stupid as that may sound. He’s a dumb jock type, with a bad attitude, and the need of a dart gun to take down a running femme…. Loser.

  I focus back where we are heading, and I can see my room mirrors hers and I’m about to join the glass casket crew. I’m guessing it’s the backup room should they need to move her to do whatever, or maybe in case something happens in there and she needs moving over here. God knows, but it’s almost identical and I wonder if there was ever a second person like Sierra here. Or maybe Juan has plans to add one…. like me.

  Mine is not full of tubes and machines but it does house a solitary single hospital bed in the center, which appears to be bolted down, and a wall of units and cupboards behind it. One corner holds a very public portable toilet that the other room’s lacking, and I don’t struggle when Mr. Security. pulls me up level with the transparent wall. There’s no privacy or places to hide with its matching glass barrier and as we stand here, I see the almost invisible outline of a singular door within its vast transparency.

  “Is this so you can watch all day and night without opening the door? Getting your freak on and watching defenseless women!” I snark at Deacon, who’s avoided saying anything more to me since we left the doctor in our wake. The only words were uttered at the guard outside the door, when he informed him my three meals a day were to be added to the rota and reported to the cook until further notice. Another Santo looking douchebag upstairs, who glared at me like I was something gross he found stuck to his shoe.

  He glares at me, with that sardonic asshole expression, scans a swipe card against a panel on the wall to our right and pushes me inside aggressively when the door slides open. It’s a little sci-fi tech, and I refuse to react in any other way than hostile bitch. I almost trip over my own feet and end up slapping my hand on the wall to steady myself, before turning my head with a half turn to snarl at him, wishing I could turn, because that boy’s throat would be in much need of repair given half the chance.

  I have so much aggression peeking inside of me that I almost can’t contain the sudden hatred of him. I can almost taste his blood, and feel his pulse beating out of his jugular, as I focus on what I could do given half the chance. I spin back to him fully, my robe flapping around so he probably gets an eyeful of naked ass as I did so, and throw the angriest, hostile, vicious sneer I can, right at his smug face.

  “I’m so glad I got to shoot you at least one time. God, it made me hard to see you go down like a sack of shit.” He smirks as the door slides shut, and the urge to punch him in the throat overwhelms me to the point I angry jump at the door as it slides between us and end up palm slapping it at his face level, panting heavily as fire consumes me.

  “You clearly were too slow to catch me then, if you needed a gun, you moron. Probably the only time you’ve ever been tougher than a girl or got a hardon over one!” I stick my middle finger up at him and return the smirk he’s dishing
me as he turns on his heel to go, face grim with a darkening mood. I can tell I pissed him off on every level but he’s trying to act like I didn’t.

  “Enjoy your cell…Carmen!” He snorts, using the name I gave him, and I throw sass right back.

  “You know, you should remember that name…. you and her would be perfect for each other if you were ever allowed to leave. A mountain wolf with no standards and loose panties… right up your street. Might get laid for the first time in your life. She’s a prize bitch, to match your prize assholeness!!” I yell it after him, temper unleashed a little, and furious for the sake of being furious. Annoyed I find myself banged up in this hellhole and under the care of a sanctimonious Santo like him.

  Colton would rip his head off if he was here. God, if I could link him right now, I so would. Just to see him roll on up and tear Deacon a new asshole. He would beat seven shades of shit out of him, without even needing to turn wolf. That’s the difference between an asshole looking to be Alpha and one who is naturally born that way. Colton never needed to push me around to exert his dominance, you could feel it whenever you were around him. He was gentler than most wolves once you got close to him, but you knew that he could turn savage and destroy anything in his wake if he needed to. Like vampires in a courtyard.