Chapter Nine
Caleb groaned and tried to pry his heavy lids open. What the hell had they hit him with, a sledgehammer dipped in elephant tranquilizers? Rubbing the residual ache from his chest, he remembered who had given him the final stab. Right into his fucking heart—literally and figuratively shattering him to pieces. Why, Isabella?
Fury tried to build within him—the way she’d played him from the beginning, pretending to fall for him. Had it all been an act to get an alpha bear into their little facility? He hadn’t seen any bears on file, and up to the point he’d rescued Isabella, no alphas. It would have been so much easier to tell which shifters were there if he could have scented them, but that’s not how it worked. He could smell the different overtones and nuances making up a bear shifters’ unique chemistry, but that was it. The rest was all speculation. Only a royal, like Zach or Isabella, could scent each kind of shifter. But the flash drive had been the motherload. And once they decrypted the files he’d stolen, they’d know all about the agency committing these atrocities to his kind—all shifter-kind.
But Caleb wouldn’t be around to help the shifter community. If he escaped this hellhole with his brain still intact, he was finding the nearest cliff. And if that didn’t work, a silver round straight into the head. No way he could live after this, the betrayal of his mate. His bear chuffed in agreement for once. Usually, it tried to talk him out of the reckless shit, or the things that could get him killed. But not this time. His bear was as broken as him.
If Isabella hadn’t wanted him, he could have let her go. Yeah, it would have broken his heart, and he would have mourned her like the loss of his father and mother. Caleb’s heart would have healed eventually. But now? Shit, he wasn’t broken. He was shattered into a million pieces. And you couldn’t fix shattered.
Loud footsteps echoed from down the hall, and the door to his cell swung open. He sighed and squinted his bleary eyes at the man in the doorway. Human, and he trained a specialized tranq gun at Caleb’s chest. Dark hair, hazel eyes, a menacing and almost-maniacal grin on his face as he strode in, unafraid.
Go figure. Three more guards entered the room and surrounded Caleb. Guess they weren’t expecting him to go quietly.
Caleb didn’t move, didn’t show any fang as Baldy shackled his wrists together. He didn’t groan when Red yanked him to his feet. And he most definitely did not show any fear when the new guard—the crazy dude with the mismatched eyes—slammed his face into the corner of the door before shoving him out into the hall. Yep, white room, coming up. He’d heard the howls of pain and pleas for mercy from the other prisoners who had gone into the room. Caleb hadn’t had a chance to see much of what went on in the room, but he knew enough. Torture, needles, blood work, experiments, drugs. Well, he was down with that. Whatever they did to his body could never exceed the pain in his mind and heart. Bring on the inquisition.
Maybe he’d get lucky, and they’d go too far and accidentally kill him. His feet shuffled in their chains as he clunked down the long hallway. He needed to keep his wits, though. They already knew about Bear Paw River, but how much? There was no way he could tell them any more information about his clan or home. His family was pushed back to the recesses of his mind. His best bet was to piss them off and hope they accidentally killed him—like in The Princess Bride. They seated him in the wide chair and strapped his arms down securely.
“What’s your full name?” Bossman asked him.
“Westley, the rightful mate of Buttercup, which makes you Humperdinck, asshole.”
The large fist came out of nowhere, crashing into his nose, sending him and his chair toppling to the floor. His former co-workers took great pleasure punching and kicking him. His nose shattered, and his jaw broke as blood poured down his cheek. Hell, they weren’t holding back. A couple of swift kicks to his torso yielded at least one broken rib, and Caleb fell back to the floor with a harsh laugh. Operation Get the Hell Beaten Out of You was officially a success. He didn’t cry out when they lugged him up into the chair and slammed his dislocated shoulder into its socket. He laughed at the bastards. “Hell, boys, I can do this all day.”
Emo dude, the doctor whose name he still hadn’t gotten, appraised him for a moment. “Take a few vials of blood then administer the first dose.”
“You’re not taking my blood fuck…er…s.” The next dart of knockout juice shot straight into his jugular. Shi…i…t.
“Start the music,” Emo said, before walking away in a haze of gold and black. “If we can’t break him, we’ll try our next approach. The female bear was just brought in. Get our wolf in here asap for another round. We want to make sure she stays under for a few more hours.”
“If she doesn’t stay under?”
“Kill her. We’ll make more soldiers.”
Shit. Izzy had mentioned going after Sam. So hard to think. Whoever it was, she was in danger. He was angry with his princess. But he had to save them. And there was nothing...he could...do about...it.
Lights out, Buttercup.
~.~
Isabella walked right up to the front gate, head held high. She didn’t even take out the knife sheathed along the inside of her left calf. Isabella wouldn’t need it for this part of her adventure. She just needed her wits, the backup of the five shifters preparing to infiltrate the compound, and her man. She was coming for Caleb. Goddess help anyone who stood in her way.
Ida had really come through with her herbs and the weird music she played on her old flute. Nobody would know she had had the effects taken away, and they would assume she was still under Bossman’s control. She winced at an achy spot on her tummy where Ida had cut her. Yeah, the crazy old broad had slashed her with a knife, drawn her blood, and chanted while dancing around a campfire. Or maybe she’d given her a few well-placed shots, and Isabella’s imagination had done the rest. It was hard to tell. Ida was kind of out there.
But now Isabella was back, in better form than ever. No trickles of Bossman’s voice rang through her mind—she’d thought it was nightmares returning. It turned out, it was the hypnosis. She had to remember to play it cool. Let the bastard think she was still playing for their side. She’d driven up to the other side and “let” the guards take her unconscious but still quite pissed-off bear partner into the back. Sam was taking one for the team by playing prisoner. Izzy was holding onto Sam’s favorite katana with the promise that as soon as the battle started, Sam would have her baby back in her hands.
“Bossman said to expect you, wolf.” The scrawny man in the guard uniform took one more drag from his cigarette and gazed at her in revulsion.
She could reach in the window and snap his neck before he yelled for his mama. She let the glow of her eyes show her wolf was at the front, waiting for her command.
Scrawny gulped, his eyes widening as he grabbed the phone and pressed back away from the window. Good. Scrawny had half a brain. “Sir, she’s here. Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone, his hand shaking as he set it down on the counter. “Boss says to head down to the white room immediately.”
She growled.
“Please?” Nervous energy radiated from him as he picked up the pack of cigarettes and his lighter and tried three times before successfully getting the end to spark. Poor guy was barely old enough to vote and shave, and here he was doing the most dangerous thing in his life. Probably why he was out here doing the easy job instead of guarding the prisoners.
“You know those things are going to kill you?” She leaned onto the small counter in front of the barred window.
“Whatever. Go on in. He and Doc are waiting for you in the white room.” He backed up into the safety of his little cage. “Bitch.” He sneered and took another long drag. “That’s what you call a female wolf, right?”
“You’re correct. Excuse me.” She stepped away from the punk who was stupid enough to think he was safe from harm behind the flimsy excuse of a guard shack. He’s not worth it, she reminded her wolf. It was still itching for a fight, and they’d get one soon enough.
“I got to watch them beat the shit out of your boyfriend last night. It was awesome. I’ve never seen so much blood.”
Isabella started walking. Don’t engage. Not worth it. She’d save Caleb soon enough. She patted her shoulder, confirming her quiver, bow, and Sam’s sword were all snugly attached, and continued past the guard shack.
“Yeah, and later I get to fuck the bear chick you brought in. After they carve her up and get her ready for me. I don’t normally like fat bitches, but the guys said after they were done with her, I wouldn’t even be able to tell what I was screwing.” His high-pitched laugh grated down her spine. “Besides, she’s just an animal.”
Isabella’s fist clenched and unclenched. She was under their influence, right? As much as her wolf wanted to give the smart-ass punk a good smackdown, it wouldn’t help. And they needed to continue thinking she was still their bitch. She would stall Bossman and his henchmen long enough to find Caleb and give Stone’s team time to gain access to the facility. Thank the Goddess for Caleb’s inside work. Now they had to hope nothing had changed after she’d escaped. “Yeah, just an animal,” she replied and marched past the gate and through the front doors. She shuddered as the chill crept down her spine. The doors closed with a loud thunk behind her. State-of-the-art metals and doors, shiny, pale linoleum floors—easier to clean blood from—led to the head dick-in-charge’s office.
Easy girl. She took a few slow, measured breaths, her boots clomping along the floor as she made her way past the small cafeteria. She wasn’t trying to be silent—she wanted them to know she was coming. Two burly-looking meatheads with pistols at their hips glared at her as she strode past the HDIC’s office. “Hey, Bossman said to meet him in the white room.”
The one on the left made a fist but stopped from raising it toward her when the voice called from inside the room.
“I’m in here now. Come in.”
Yeah, she knew that voice. The sick, sadistic bastard who had taken so much pleasure in watching them beat her. The coward didn’t do any of the dirty work himself. No, he got his band of thugs to do it for him. But in his wild eyes—the gleam of a madman enjoying sadistic voyeurism. When they’d broken her nose and blackened both her eyes, the first day, Frankie had giggled in delight. Like a kid opening a birthday present. Isabella had finally had to shift so she could heal.
Frankie’s thin eyebrows had risen to his hairline and he’d licked his lips and giggled manically, liked he’d been about to jump up and down and ask the cool new pet to do the trick again. But Bossman, with his steepled fingers, unblinking focused eye contact, watched everything completely in control. Yeah, he’d loved it, but it had been more scientific than Frankie with his crazed obsession. She’d forced herself not to shift back to human until they had her back in her cell. It was bad enough when Frankie had touched and prodded every fucking inch of her body while fur-covered. Once the injections started, she hadn’t been able to control her own shifting anymore. Thankfully, they hadn’t wanted to rape her or play with her when naked, human, and shivering from the necessary shifts. That might have killed her right there.
The way Bossman was contemplating her now—not so much as a test subject he wanted to experiment on, but rather something new and shiny he wanted to play with—it caused her stomach to churn with disgust. She didn’t retch on his shiny shoes. Only because she hadn’t eaten before she came. She’d wanted her wolf hungry.
And it was hungry, all right. Hungry for vengeance.
Bossman grinned at her and played the recording loud enough to blast her ears, and she winced and took a step back. He easily caught up to her and injected her. Those chemicals and awful words which would make her a slave to his every desire. He’d say jump, she’d say how high. He’d tell her to kill someone, and she’d rip the throat out of the nearest person and then ask who he wanted her to kill. Such was the intensity of the aggression the hypnotism produced in her wolf side. Holy hell, he really was creating a perfect war machine. And she was at ground zero.
Bossman played it once more and cocked his head. “How are you feeling?”
She didn’t recoil from his touch. “How do you think I’m feeling, sir?”
“I think you’re feeling a bit hungry, ready to dole out some pain. What do you say?”
She flung a hand out and gripped the guard nearest to her, around his throat. His eyes went wide with terror as she scraped a claw against his neck, drawing blood.
“Sir?” The poor guy didn’t know if his boss wanted him to fight back or let her kill him. Awesome.
She squeezed harder and used her thumbnail to draw some blood on the other side of his neck. It should have scared her how much more easily this came to her. Violence. She knew the effects were out of her system, so this new kick-ass-and-hurt-people side was all her. Her wolf and Izzy. She hoped her peaceful, vegetarian side wasn’t forever gone. But, for now, she needed to play the part.
“Hold that thought,” Bossman said with a cool smile.
She released the big guy, who bent over and took ragged breaths. Cocking her head at Bossman, she awaited her next instruction.
“Get the new female prisoner and bring her to the white room. Feel free to knock her around a bit. I want her ready for testing.”
She followed the other guard out the door, knowing she needed to make this look good. She still needed to give her reinforcements time to get in place.
“Yo, bitch,” Isabella snarled as she opened the heavy, metal door and glared at Sam. “Get up.”
Dirty, messed-up hair and dark bags under her eyes seemed to be about the extent of her injuries.
Isabella released a sigh of relief that her new friend wasn’t hurt too badly—yet. Unfortunately, Isabella still had a role to play.
She strode over to the furious, goth-looking chick and punched her in the cheek.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam hurtled a fist toward her, ready to retaliate, but the two guards grabbed her, yanking her arms behind her back. Sam was reining her bear in. Even after all the drugs thrown through her system, they hoped Ida’s countermeasures had worked. Izzy wouldn’t know for sure until Sam shifted. But not yet. They had to get close enough to save Caleb and take down Bossman. And Izzy couldn’t do it without the help.
The violence in Sam’s eyes assured her Sam wished she could have shifted by now. Instead, she growled and spewed obscenities at Isabella as the guards carried her to the door.
“The boss said to bring you to the white room for reconditioning.” Isabella smiled at her, fangs lengthening. “He also said I could play with you a bit along the way. So, let’s play.” Isabella backhanded her, allowing the tip of her claws to graze her cheek.
Three angry lines of red showed on Sam’s face, and the bear in her rumbled in rage.
Still not enough, though. Isabella prayed she could get Sam’s bear to the front before they made their escape. They’d need it.
The guards carried the cursing, pissed-off woman down the hall, her legs flailing, screeching with rage and frustration. Isabella led the way. Hurry up, guys. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
When they got to the room that had haunted her for three weeks, Isabella’s heart slammed in her throat. The scent of violence and death coated the room. In the corner, strapped to the chair, was Caleb. Oh my God. He’d been through hell and back—at least twice. Blood matted his forehead, ears, and neck. One eye was practically swollen shut, his lips thick and bleeding. But that wasn’t what scared her the most.
It was the haunted defeat in his eyes when he saw her. He truly believed her to be a monster who had turned him over to the vilest of the vile. He might never forgive her after this was over, but it didn’t matter now. What mattered was saving him and the other shifters. Caleb could hate her for the rest of their lives, but at least he would be alive.
She shuttered her thoughts and emotions, plastering a look of indifference on her face as she strode in.
“Why?” His voice was scratchy and dry. They probably hadn’t given him food or water, wanting to break him down before trying any testing. Caleb was too strong—much stronger than the others she had seen.
She gazed past him to the wall of instruments and vials of blood and drugs, not wanting him to see the shame in her eyes.
“Because I told her to.” Bossman walked in and flicked on the fluorescent lights, causing Caleb to wince. “Yeah, see, I didn’t get a chance to explain this part yet, but you animals are part of a new project I’ve been asked to head up. Furry trained soldiers at my command. All it takes is a little conditioning.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the spot in front of him.
Isabella strode over and stood between the two men. On one side, her enemy, on the other, her heart. “What are my orders, sir?”