Connected: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5

Camille

Pain. That’s what registered first as my eyes cracked open. Splitting pain at the core of my head, shooting down my spine and into every joint in my body. Then I felt the cold against my stomach and chin and thighs. The frigid temperature of the icy floor had been seeping through my skin long enough to freeze me to the bone. I shivered, and the action pierced through my rigid body so aggressively that I felt as though I’d shatter. The pain was unbearable. Surely being on the hard tile wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t bring myself to move because just breathing was excruciating.

After a few more seconds, the agony didn’t give me a choice but to move. It plundered through my stomach, tensing my abs so violently I almost vomited right there on the floor. I vaulted toward the toilet without even fully rising to my feet, and hugged myself to it while my stomach tightened again. Nothing came. There was nothing to throw up because I hadn’t eaten since I’d been taken, but that only made it worse. I kept dry heaving, my body desperate to rid itself of a poison it simply couldn’t find.

It felt like almost fifteen minutes before I couldn’t even hold myself up over the toilet anymore. I fell sideways onto the floor. My stomach clenched from exertion and lingering sickness, but I was too tired to make an effort to rise, and nothing would come up anyway. It wasn’t until now, with the cold seeping into my side again, that I realized I was still naked. But I was too exhausted and in too much pain to even care, and my eyes drifted closed. 

By the time I woke again, I felt a little better. The harrowing pain had faded to soreness and aches, and though I was still drained, I at least had enough energy to stand. I staggered to my feet and searched the cell for my clothes. My new living space wasn’t without damage, but it didn’t seem like I’d wrecked as much as the wolf across the hall. There were scratches on the brick wall, one metal leg of my cot had been crushed in my jaws so that the whole thing was lopsided, and I’d ripped the hot water knob off the sink.

At least my clothes survived the serum, and I wandered over to retrieve them from beneath the cot. Okay… mostly survived the serum. My pants were fine, but as I pulled on my shirt, I found that one of the sleeves was ripped from shoulder to hem. I’d have to live with it, I guess. Once I was dressed, I looked over into the adjoining cell. Palmer was sitting on his cot, shirtless and cross-legged with his hands on his knees. He appeared to be meditating at first glance, but then our eyes met and I realized he’d been watching me.

“Feeling better?” he asked, dropping his legs over the side of the cot and inching forward, like he wanted to stand but was cautious about coming closer.

“Kind of,” I answered, and strode to our clear partition. Too tired to stand for long, I sank to the floor, only to find that even sitting up was straining after a few seconds. I dropped onto my back, stretching my legs out to try and ease some of the muscle aches while my arm shielded my eyes from the bright lights in the ceiling.

Assured that I was no longer a raging monster, Palmer got off his cot and grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on while he wandered over. The lack of clothing gave me a brief glimpse of his torso. Of his scars. He had thick scar tissue on one side, from his ribs to his hip and that looked like it traveled around to his back. It was messy and uneven, like the kind Eli had on one shoulder from a bad fight with a mutt. But there were two other scars that caught my attention, ones that didn’t look like they’d come from any fight with another wolf. They were thin lines beneath each pectoral muscle on his broad chest, surgical lines, maybe like the kind you’d get in a lab where people were experimenting on you.

With his shirt on, he plopped down across the glass from me. “Do you black out?” he asked, resuming his cross-legged pose. “When it changes you?”

I shook my head. I remembered it all in vivid detail – the torture of the Phase and the uncontrollable bloodlust. I remembered snarling for hours. My throat was still raw with it. I knew my shoulder was bruised from hurling myself at the glass wall over and over again, every time I caught movement from a cell down the hall or the guards passed on their rounds. My gums were sore from how frequently I’d snapped my teeth together, and my body wasn’t just exhausted from the strain of the Change. I’d paced every second of every hour in wolf form, tense with fury and waiting, high-strung and ready to lunge at anything that put itself within reach.

Nothing had come within reach, and for that I was relieved. But what would happen if they gave me another dose and I escaped? What if the cell couldn’t hold me forever? I’d had enough presence of mind last night to think I might be able to redirect my aggression if I had options, but I wouldn’t be able to do it for long, and what good was choosing one target over another anyway? If I did escape, how many innocent people could I kill before Serum Twelve wore off, and how much would that haunt me?

Palmer didn’t say anything else in response. His eyes had shut and he was taking slow, steady breaths. I didn’t want to interrupt him right away, so I shifted sideways on the floor and used to the opportunity to observe more of the world outside our cells. The guards had just come in the doors at the end of the long hall for another round through the area. There were a few more cameras along the corridor, aimed at various rooms to monitor the supernaturals inside. At the far end of the hall, near the doors, there was an electric panel on the wall – possibly some master control panel for all the high-tech locks on the cells.

There wasn’t much else to look at though, so I sat up in order to see Palmer better, and leaned sideways against the wall for support. “Can I ask you something?” I asked him, wanting to ease my concern but unsure of how to ask. He nodded. “I saw some scars, on your chest… did that doctor in the lab do that to you?”

His eyebrows furrowed for a few moments as he glanced downward, but then he huffed with laughter and looked up at me again. “No, not the doctor here.” He paused like that should answer my lingering questions, but I didn’t know what he meant, and that seemed to make him suddenly timid. “Right, so, uh, I’m trans.” 

It took a second for me to process exactly what he meant, but then I realized. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, “just,” and he gestured at his chest, “surgery, you know?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, relieved that it wasn’t part of whatever our captors were doing. He seemed to be watching me for more of a reaction though, glancing at me every other second with an unsure look in his eyes. “It’s cool,” I told him.

“Cool,” he repeated, with a somewhat relieved sigh of his own. But then he inhaled a sharp breath, gaining a look of curiosity and hesitating for a moment before saying, “Actually, can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“You’re a born wolf, right?” he asked. I nodded. “So, you have… like… history knowledge.”

I wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this, but I shrugged. “I guess.”

There was another few seconds of hesitation, and then, “Have you ever met a trans wolf before?”

This time, I shook my head, and his shoulders visibly slumped. “Why?”

“I was just wondering,” he said, “because… well, when I shift, I’m male? Like, completely. I was hoping you’d know if that always happens.”

I stared at him in surprise, not sure if I understood exactly what he meant. “What do you mean?” I asked, and repeated, “Completely?”

He nodded, and when I didn’t say anything, he made a subtle glance downward. “You know… physically. Completely.”

I’d never heard of it, but then again, I’d never met a wolf like him. “But only when you shift?” I asked, trying to compare what I knew with his situation. When Kyla and I had been sent to a phantom world in a different dimension, her wolf had been apart from her. It was her, but it wasn’t her. It had been a separate being forged by the bite, but born out of the likeness of her soul. I guess it was possible that when Palmer was bitten, his wolf was born out of the likeness of his too.

“Yeah, only when I shift,” he answered. 

“I don’t know if that always happens,” I told him. “Maybe. And it’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, lips pulling into a small smile. “I don’t even have to take hormones anymore. It’s kind of the silver lining of getting bit.” His smile faded as he glanced around our cells. “Or it was, until I was brought here.”

 “What did they give you?” I asked, passing a suspicious look up at the camera and wondering if they could hear us too.

“Serum Eleven.” Palmer pulled his knees up to his chest, giving him something to rest his chin on. “I haven’t Phased since I got here.”

“You haven’t-” Marion said he’d been here for months. “You mean you haven’t wanted to? Or…?”

“I want to,” he groaned, running his fingers back through the mess of curls on his head. “Whatever they gave me makes it so I can’t shift. They even poke and prod at me with tasers, testing to make sure I can’t.”

“They torture you?” I asked, my upper lip curling angrily.

“They haven’t for a while,” he said, adding in a whisper, “I let them think they made the final compound.” He shrugged. “Maybe they did… I tingle and itch and get so damn restless, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t.” He sighed. “Not all the way.”

My eyebrows furrowed at that. “What do you mean not all the way?”

He studied me for a long few seconds before passing a suspicious look up at the camera, and then he turned his back to it. “Watch,” he said, holding his hand out so I could see.

And I watched, waiting in anticipation for whatever he was trying to show me. It took nearly a minute, during which I could tell he was straining with focus. His forehead was creased with concentration, brown eyes locked on his fingers and a slight sheen of sweat forming at his temple. Then a snap. Like my Phase yesterday, one of Palmer’s fingers popped out of place. He cringed when it happened, but kept focus while another shifted position. It happened slow and it was clearly painful, but a blackish red fur sprouted at the same time as his hand took the form of a paw, until the entire thing had become a paw to the wrist.

Palmer let out a stress-laden breath when it finished. The fingers of his other hand mopped his forehead. “It’s all I can do,” he said, splaying his wolf toes as much as possible.

I met his gaze with awe, trying not to stare with how impressed I was. “I’ve never heard of a wolf being able to control it like that.” Never in our entire history had I heard of something like this being documented. We couldn’t Phase one part of our body at a time, couldn’t slow it or direct it. It was all or nothing.

“It took me months,” he said, “meditating all day long.” He winced, letting out a grunt as one of the bones in his paw cracked forcefully. Like a domino effect, that crack set off a series of others, and in a matter of seconds, all that intense focus he’d spent on shifting his hand was undone. It was human again. “It never lasts. The serum changes me back.”

“Why do you do it?” I asked. It looked agonizing. Though I’d felt it on a grander scale when Serum Twelve had forced me to Change, I couldn’t imagine the pain was any less substantial, and he did it willingly.

“It’s like… I feel like I’m freezing, and the only way to get some heat is to stick my hand in the flames.” He massaged at his palm, and then flexed his fingers to work out any lingering pain. “It’s only a small relief from the constant itch, but it’s something.”

“Have you tried it on a full moon?” The urge to Phase was infinitely more powerful on the night of the full moon. Maybe it’d give him the push he needed to Change completely.

But he shook his head. “Those nights make the actual torture feel like a walk in the park, and every month it gets worse.”

I shook my head sympathetically. What was the point of all this anyway? Why would that doctor want to keep some wolves from Phasing, but force others to become violent? Both of these serums were dangerous. Serum Eleven, the one Palmer had been given, that was dangerous for us wolves. If they could keep us from Phasing, from entering our most powerful form, they could wipe us out easily. But if killing us was the goal, why make Serum Twelve? Why turn me, or any other, into a mindless monster?

“The Pack is looking for me, Palmer,” I told him, confident that they’d find a way to get to me. Kyla, Abby, and Luna would do everything they could to find me, I knew they would. “When they come, I’m going to get you out too. We’ll find a way to fix this.”

“What’s the Pack?” he asked.

“You’ve never heard of the Pack?”

“Should I have?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d never met a wolf who didn’t know about the Pack, but maybe it wasn’t all that rare. Wes was bitten, and he’d never known until Eli found him; maybe Palmer was bitten by someone who’d never taught him either. So I explained it, and told him about how we made sure other wolves weren’t a threat to people or our secrecy. When I finished, my explanation didn’t earn the reaction I expected. I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t the scowl that set on his face.

He scoffed, “You’re all not very good at your job.”

I didn’t know whether to be more confused or offended. “What did the Pack ever do to you?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” he said. I didn’t know how he was feeling, either. He was angry, I could tell that much, but there was an underlying pain in his dark eyes that made me stay quiet until he explained. At my silence, he sighed. “There was a werewolf in my hometown in Missouri with a taste for human blood.” That… that sounded familiar. Almost six months ago we’d had a mutt target in Missouri. It’d turned out to be two mutts, based on coroner reports – one of them had a smaller bite and hadn’t killed as many people. “He was killing hunters mostly. The maulings were so bad that the local fish and game couldn’t tell what did it.” That was consistent too. Lack of identification was how we’d known to look into it in the first place, but the smaller wolf’s bite had been identified as canine. “I used to go on hunting trips with my dad and brother, on my breaks from pharmaceutical school. One night my brother went out to get firewood.”

His head fell, his hand tangling in his curls. “By the time we heard the commotion and got outside, my brother… It was too late. The wolf turned on me.” He pulled up the right side of his shirt to show me the scar I’d seen earlier, then he lifted the left leg of his pants to show me a long slash down his shin. “My dad shot it and it ran. I had my first Change soon after.” He lifted his head and shot me a hard look. “But now I know my brother’s dead because the Pack didn’t do its job.”

I stared down at my feet, more confused than ever. We’d tried. We’d gone to Missouri to search for the mutts, but by the time we got there, they were gone without a trace. No scent, no tracks. Nothing.

“So I did it for you,” Palmer said.

In the minute it took for me to process what he meant, and to realize what he was telling me, my heart sank. The mutt that killed his brother hadn’t been our final target. It was Palmer. He must’ve left a few bodies in his search for revenge, and those were the bodies that were identified as wolf-killed. Those were the bodies the Pack worried would be an exposure risk. And this was why we were never able to find him – he’d already been kidnapped and brought here.

“Shit, Palmer,” I groaned. “The Pack was looking for you too. Do you have any idea how serious that is?”

“What? Because I was the only one doing anything about it?”

“You killed three innocent people,” I snapped.

“They were protecting him!” he said defensively. “And I had no idea how to control my shifting because I didn’t ask for this! How many more people do you think he would’ve killed anyway if I didn’t do what I had to?”

“You were messy,” I accused. “That’s not how we deal with things.”

“You just don’t deal with it at all,” he spat.

What was I supposed to do now? He didn’t trust the Pack, that much was clear, but how could I let him go knowing he’d been one of our targets? Knowing he didn’t regret taking those lives, or not knowing if he’d kill anyone again.

“We deal with threats to our entire species first,” I countered. I was angry. Angier than I knew I should’ve been, but I couldn’t help it, and my body was vibrating with rage. “That was you when you left wolf kills for law enforcement to find. You know what would happen if certain people out there knew we existed? If the government knew we existed?” I growled at the thought. “Hell, maybe this is the government. Maybe it’s your fault we’re stuck in here.”

“You know what?” Palmer snarled, rising to his feet. “Screw you and the Pack’s system for dealing with things!”

I stood up too, entirely unsure of what I could or wanted to say. I wanted to fight. Phase. I was burning with anger and the desire for blood, and that scared me.

“Hey!” a guard yelled, the butt of his rifle striking my door. We hadn’t seen them coming, and both Palmer and I jumped. “Knock it off, you two. Zade, hands.”

I set my hands against the wall separating mine and Palmer’s cells, gritting my teeth against the flood of emotions straining my control. The guards went through the process of cuffing me and then leading me to the infirmary, not bothering to ask where Marion wanted me when we arrived. They simply undid the handcuffs and shoved me in to walk away. But I was still riled up and my body was painfully sore, and I wheeled on the guards with a snarl.

The moment I faced them, one of them raised his rifle, and not even my frustration was enough to curb the threat of a silver dart. My hands shot into the air in surrender. Only, the guards weren’t satisfied with that, and the one aiming his gun at me shot forward and smashed the end of it into my stomach. I dropped to my knees, coughing and doing my best not to retaliate despite the pain and the fury. The guard shoved his gun in my face, eyes locked on mine as if daring me to try something.

“Please,” Marion said, urgently placing herself at my side. “There’s no need for that.”

He looked back and forth between Marion and me before scowling at me and lowering his weapon. Both men retreated without saying another word. Once they were gone, Marion offered a hand to help me up, but I was too angry to want to touch her right now.

“Where’s Doctor Dirt Bag?” I asked, struggling to my feet. If he was here, it might be more strain on my control than I could bear. But maybe I wanted that. Maybe I wanted to sink my teeth into his throat.

“Your blood pressure is through the roof,” Marion said. “I need you to calm down.”

I shot her a glare. “I’m calm.” I’d been kidnapped, drugged, accused of Pack negligence, and pushed around and hit with a rifle. I was damn calm given the circumstances.

“You’re not,” Marion argued, sidestepping to a tray with a noticeably large syringe on it.

“If you try to sedate me, so help me-” A bone in my arm snapped, and though I’d only been forced to Phase once, I recognized the agony instantly. It was happening again.

“Camille,” Marion said urgently, “breathe. You can stop it this time.” Another crack, and I whimpered at the pain. “Please don’t turn,” she begged, but her hand took hold of the sedative in preparation.

I inhaled a deep breath, trying desperately to calm myself down because I had no idea what would happen if I Changed, but Marion seemed to know, and she looked terrified. It was so hard to stay calm with each excruciating shift of bone, but the next one that snapped did it twice. It popped once, and then immediately back into place, and I could feel the Change slowing. I shut my eyes tight and focused on breathing deep and slow, trying my best to ignore the pain of my bones returning to their human place. After a minute, it ended, but I was so exhausted that I was panting, and my already aching body was screaming for relief.

“What did you do to me?” I asked, collapsing forward to rest my upper body over the steel examination table. “Why’d that happen?”

“It’s a side effect of the serum,” she answered, releasing her grip on the syringe and taking a cautious step toward me. “For the next few hours, you’ll have high blood pressure, increasing your inclination to Change when you feel threatened or upset. And if you Change…”

I’d be the same monster as last time. “Why?” I asked weakly.

“Your blood pressure is related to stress,” she said. “Normally you’re so healthy it’s not much of a factor, but-”

“No,” I interrupted. I could already feel myself crumbling, and my confidence in being able to ride this out until Kyla found me was plummeting. Phasing like that was torture. I didn’t want to experience it even once more, and I was already terrified of getting another dose. How many more times were they planning on doing it to me? “Why are they doing this?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why.” Her soft footsteps came closer, and she braved to put her hand on my back. “Camille,” she said encouragingly, “you have to stay strong.”

The fact that she could see how I was feeling caused my eyes to flood with tears. I was wolf, through and through, but my entire life I’d always been aware of the damage we could do. Always at the back of my mind was the knowledge that our power could be devastating. I’d already killed an innocent man once in my life, and I couldn’t imagine that whoever had brought me here was giving me this serum for any reason other than to make me kill again. Someone wanted me vicious. Someone wanted to take my fear, to take my worst nightmare, and they wanted to make me live it.

“I can’t,” I whispered, covering my head with my arms while it rested against the cold table. I wanted to plead with Marion to give me something else. Serum Eleven, like Palmer, or to use me for some other experiment. I didn’t care as long as I didn’t have to suffer through another of those harrowing Changes. As long as I wouldn’t be an uncontrollable threat. But pleading with her would be no use, and I knew that – she was stuck here, just like me.

“You must,” she insisted. “You have more advantages than anyone who’s ever been brought here. You’re smart, trained, you’re Pack. You have your blood connection.” Her hand shifted to my shoulder, and she pulled gently to guide me up. “If you can’t get us out of here, I don’t know who can.”

I met her gaze, and there was so much genuine hope in her eyes that, even if I couldn’t believe in myself, I had to try. For her and her son. I had to withstand the serum, no matter how afraid I was. I had to take however many doses they’d give me until they were satisfied, and I had to take it without letting it shatter me, because my life wasn’t the only one at stake.

As I nodded, I glanced past Marion to the office overlooking the lab. “Do you think there’s a phone in there?” I asked, wandering to the door.

“I don’t know,” she said, following me. “Probably, but you can’t.” I ignored her and reached for the handle. “Camille, please,” she grabbed my shoulder with urgency, “someone could walk in at any second. They’ll kill us both.”

“Then be my lookout,” I told her, nodding toward the small windows set in the lab doors. “We aren’t getting out of here without taking some risks.”

Marion watched me for a few moments with a world of conflict in her eyes. When she finally nodded, I turned the handle and pushed the door open, peering inside. There was a phone on the desk beside a computer, but Marion put a hand on my arm to stop me. “I don’t know if this will help,” she said, stealing a glimpse toward the windows, “but I’ve only ever heard the guards calling the doctor ‘Butcher.’ They don’t use names in here. It’s the closest to one I’ve ever heard.”

“What’s your last name?” I asked her. She was a prisoner like me, and she’d done nothing to make me think otherwise, but it couldn’t hurt to know everything I could about anyone I could.

“Presley.”

I nodded, and she hurried to the lab doors while I rushed into the office to the phone. I dialed Kyla’s number, and it rang a couple of times before her voice asked, “Hello?”

It felt so good to hear her that I laughed into the receiver, my mood instantly improved. “It’s me.”

“Camille.” She released a heavily relieved sigh. “Are you alright? Do you know where you are?”

“No,” I answered, watching Marion through the large office window for any sign that someone was coming. “I’m okay, I guess, but I don’t know where I am. It’s some kind of lab, they’re doing experiments.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then asked more seriously, “Are you okay?”

My time was so limited that I couldn’t fully explain, but I said, “No.” And admitting it to her almost made my voice crack. “Kyla, you have to get me out of here.”

“We’re working on it,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “We’re combining resources with Abby.”

I’d known that Abby would be there helping them, but hearing it caused another wave of relief. “Let me talk to her.”

Kyla handed over the phone and Abby’s voice came on. “You sure are popular with kidnappers,” she said, but I recognized the worry behind her attempt at humor.

“Funny…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I need you to do something for me.” I glanced at Marion again, but she was staring out the lab windows. “There’s a doctor here, he’s the guy in charge of the lab. I don’t know his real name, but the guards call him Butcher. Can you use Council data and see if you can find a lead?”

“Okay.”

“I also need you to get information on Marion Presley,” I told her. “She’s a healer who’s trapped here with me.” No response, and the silence lasted so long I almost worried I’d been disconnected. “Abby?” She made a barely audible hum in response. “Marion Presley?”

“Yeah,” she said, and stammered, “right, yeah, I’ll.. I’ll look into it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks. Let me talk to Kyla.”

“Camille,” she said before giving the phone back, and the discomfort in her voice was replaced with more worry. “Be careful in there. Don’t… Don’t do anything to… Just lie low.”

“Yeah,” I assured her, “you know me.”

“I do,” she said, “that’s why I’m worried.”

I almost smiled. It was just like her to tease me when she was concerned, and I always did the same, but without me being able to see what she really felt on her face, and her being able to hear it in my thoughts, the exchange felt heavy. I felt all of her concern and none of our mutual attempts at comfort. “I’m glad you’re not in my head right now,” I admitted.

“We’re going to get you out of there,” she said. “We have to… you know that mess of a headspace is my comfort zone.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I mumbled.

“Me neither,” she laughed quietly, and there was a short stretch of almost comfortable silence. “We’ll find you, I promise. Just… be safe.”

“I’ll try.”

She murmured ‘bye’ and then I heard the phone shifting hands, but there was another long moment of silence before Kyla asked, “Camille, how long do you have?”

I glanced at Marion again to judge how much time I had left for the call, but then I realized that wasn’t what Kyla was asking. She meant how long could I survive in here. “I don’t know,” I sighed. “They gave me this poison, it’s called Serum Twelve.” Just thinking about it made me draw in a shaky breath. “It forces a Change. Turns me into a monster. I can’t control it, Kyla.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said instantly. “Whatever happens, whatever they make you do, you know that’s not you. I know that’s not you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

Her knowing what my biggest fear was without me saying it put a lump in my throat. “But…” I swallowed hard. “What if it is me?”

“It’s not,” she said. She paused for a few moments, waiting to see if I’d believe her or looking for the right words to convince me. When I didn’t say anything, she said, “Cami, you chose control a long time ago. If they’re taking that from you, that ain’t your fault. It’s not you.” She was right, but not even a release of responsibility could take away my fear that something would happen. So I hummed and nodded even though she couldn’t see it, and another long silence passed between us. “Camille,” she prompted eventually, and I could hear the hesitation in her voice as she said, “that Serum Twelve… they gave it to Luna, too.”

“What?” I blurted, and all the concern about myself and my situation was gone.

“She got shot with a dart. After we pulled it out, she Changed. No one was hurt, and she’s okay now, I just thought you should know.”

Marion waved at me, saying hurriedly, “Butcher’s coming!”

“I have to go,” I muttered. Marion was in such a panic about how close the doctor was getting that I said in a rush, “Be careful. I love you.”

I slammed the phone down and hurled myself out of the office door, throwing it closed and reaching the exam table the moment before Butcher came into the lab. My heart was racing from the mad dash to not get caught, but boiling just beneath that was a renewed aggravation. They’d poisoned my sister. They’d dosed her with Serum Twelve, and they’d done it where she could’ve killed someone, where she could’ve gotten herself killed. I was furious. My eyes set on Butcher and narrowed, locked onto him the entire time he strode past Marion and me.

Through that anger, I could feel that I wasn’t recovered enough from the serum to have control. I’d Phase if I didn’t calm myself down, and I could see that Marion knew it too. She was wide-eyed, gaze darting from me to the doctor like she was afraid that at any second I’d start to Change. It seemed we both knew that if that happened, I’d go straight for him. What made it worse was that I was tempted. I recognized some part of me not influenced by the serum that still wanted to sink my teeth into him. Control. As badly as I wanted to lash out, I wanted even more to prove to myself that I was in control. So I clenched my fists and took in steady breaths, keeping myself from Phasing so it wouldn’t put Marion in danger.

Eventually, Butcher wandered over to the exam table. He didn’t say anything, simply grabbed my hand and pressed a couple of fingers to my wrist, turning enough to watch the clock above the door while he took my pulse.

“What are you feeling?” he asked me. Not how am I feeling. What.

I wanted to know why they’d drugged Luna, and why they’d done it without locking her up. The problem was that I couldn’t demand to know. If Butcher suspected that I had any knowledge outside the lab, it’d get Marion and me caught.

Might as well be honest. “Like I want to rip your throat out,” I growled. I was tired of him being so comfortable. Of him touching and examining me like I’d given him permission to do any of this.

His lips thinned with a satisfied smile. “You make those kinds of threats often?” All I did was glare at him. “You hate me already,” he observed, no hint of concern in his voice or gesture as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“You about to tell me this isn’t personal?”

He pumped the cuff, took my blood pressure, and set it aside as though he hadn’t even heard me. He didn’t answer until he was done. “This is very personal,” he said darkly. “Supernaturals are a threat to everyone. You need to be controlled.”

“So you turn werewolves into uncontrollable monsters,” I sneered. “I’m glad that makes sense.”

His face set sternly. “A select few of you will have the opportunity to serve as protection.”

“For who?” I asked.

“The highest bidder.”

My upper lip curled, a low rumble grating in my chest. “Not if I kill you before you have the chance.”

“You won’t be able to raise a finger to me,” he countered, a smug hatred in his pale eyes, “once we manipulate your blood connection into a means of control.” My face paled. That was why they wanted me. Why they wanted my connection with Kyla. I inhaled a breath to respond with defiance, but he waved a hand dismissively. “Before you tell me you’ll never give it to me, know that I’ve been dying to cut into the brain of a wolf with a legendary connection like yours.” He paused to make a show of thinking about it. “Kyla Walters, age seventeen, bitten… I wonder if she’d make a good subject for dissection...”

I had just enough self-control to keep my blood from boiling, but my temper flared. I reached for him, fully intending to get at least one good punch in before the guards put a dart in me, but I severely underestimated Butcher. The moment my hands shot out, he knocked them aside, grabbed the back of my knee, and hauled me off the edge of the exam table. The back of my head smacked against the edge as I plummeted, and I managed to keep from smashing it a second time against the concrete floor because I took the brunt of the force with my elbows. The guards burst through the doors, but before I could even fight to a defensive position or kick Butcher with a bare foot, he reached down and flipped me over, pressing his weight down with a knee against my back. I don’t know where he got a weapon in those flash of seconds, but I withheld a pained yelp as something cut deep into the back of my neck, and I tried to reach behind me for it.

“Struggle any harder,” Butcher muttered, “and you’ll never walk again.” I froze, nervous when his weight shifted so he could glance behind him and say to the guards, “Stand down. Everything’s fine.” I could feel blood sliding down the side of my neck, and winced when, as he leaned over, it put more pressure on the blade. “Do not make the mistake of thinking you have the upper hand in here.” He removed the weapon and stood, tossing a bloodied scalpel onto the exam table above me. “Clean this up,” he told Marion.

I stayed on the floor until he’d disappeared through the door deeper into the lab, and the guards had retreated outside. Then I pushed onto my knees, rising to my feet despite the severe blow to my pride.

Marion moved the scalpel and helped me onto the table. “What were you thinking?” she whispered. “He’s enhanced. He could’ve killed you.”

“Enhanced? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “His biology is just… different from other humans. He’s stronger, faster.”

“How?” I asked, but all she did was shrug. “He won’t kill me,” I said. “He needs me.”

She strode behind me to look at my neck, clicking her tongue. “You need stitches.”

“Could he really have paralyzed me?” I asked, resisting the urge to glare at the door where he’d disappeared, and reached behind me to feel around my bleeding wound.

“Yes,” Marion breathed, still sounding exasperated. “You shouldn’t risk yourself like that.”

I knew that. I was the only one who could get us out and blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, nobody else did shit. Palmer sat in his cell all day, and Marion did whatever Butcher told her to. “Right,” I said pointedly, “because I’m the only one in here doing a damn thing about it.” I couldn’t see Marion, but her examination of my neck halted as if my words had struck her hard. I hadn’t thought before about whether or not she felt guilty for the things she was being forced to do, but I thought about it then. “I’m sorry,” I told her, glancing back over my shoulder, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay.” She resumed her work, cleaning the wound and wiping off the blood. “But just because I can’t fight back the way you can doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

“I know.” She had tried to help get me out of taking Serum Twelve, and I was sure I wasn’t the only one. She was quiet for a minute while she worked, and once she paused to open her suture kit, I asked, “Marion, what do they want with my sister?”

“Sister?”

“My twin sister,” I said. “They gave her Serum Twelve. Why?”

“Twin sister,” she repeated to herself. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“They shot her with a dart,” I explained, gritting my teeth as she passed the needle through the back of my neck. “Out in the open, where she could’ve killed someone.”

She hummed thoughtfully, thinking to herself while she started a second stitch. “I haven’t heard of them doing field testing before this.”

“And?”

“They haven’t tested the Serum yet under extreme circumstances. Every time they’ve done it, it’s been here, in the lab and on non-Pack wolves, some with already frail control.” She pressed some gauze over the wound and began to tape it down. “Maybe Butcher thinks your sister is a good test subject for control in extreme circumstances. They want wolves under Serum Twelve who are only restrained on command. They’d want her to be completely rabid.”

It didn’t make sense why Luna. It could’ve been any of the Pack wolves, but one thing was certain – Butcher had threatened Kyla and poisoned my sister, and he was going to pay for it.

“Blood pressure…” Marion warned quietly, coming around to stand in front of me. I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath, willing away my anger if only for the sake of not scaring Marion. “Camille,” she prompted, and when I opened my eyes again, I saw that she’d taken a step back, and her voice was barely more than a nervous murmur. “They have to get you out of here before you get three doses, and they have to keep your sister safe from it too.”

“Why?” I asked. Her grave expression made my stomach sink. “What happens after three doses?”

Her eyes met mine, and her mouth set in a grim line. “What you become when you Change… it becomes permanent.”