“Your child will be safe,” he announces after I take a seat on a plush modular chair.
I drop my face into my hands. I need to make this believable when all I wanted was a moment alone with my thoughts.
“Do you have kids?” I mutter into my palms.
“I had a daughter,” he says sadly.
I look up into his face to find his grey-green eyes staring off in the distance.
“What happened to her?”
“She was killed by a drunk driver. Sixteen years old, riding home from her first date. I didn’t want her to go. Bein’ protective. Turns out, I was right for the wrong reasons.”
“What happened to the driver?” I ask, trying to gauge the type of man I’m looking at.
“He got what was comin’ to him,” J sneers.
I nod. He’s like me. J’s not a good, decent man. He’s a killer.
“And if the doctor hurts my son?” I pose it as a question, asking if he has my back.
“That won’t happen, Forty-two. I fuckin’ promise you, that shit won’t happen.”
He means that. Maybe J is more of a friend than I’ve given him credit for.
“I feel so powerless. There’s a woman pregnant with my child, and I don’t even remember her. Did I love her? Did we have a future? She’s with another man while my son’s growing inside her,” I growl the last part, unable to help myself.
J’s on his feet moving toward me now. He’s probably about ten years older than me. He’s not as tall or as wide, but he’s still big. I could easily take him down. I’d like that fight right about now. Some way to burn off the fury clouding my judgment.
He sits on the white fabric cube in front of me, steepling his hands while studying my face.
“What do your instincts tell you?”
I roll his question around for a moment before answering.
“That I need to protect my son,” I respond plainly, giving the easiest answer.
“I can do that for you,” he replies instantly.
“How? They’re gonna start testing in the morning. You know what they do to us.”
He rubs a frustrated hand over his face. J wants to fill me in on things he shouldn’t. The death of his daughter weighs on him. I need to use this, force him to fuck up somehow.
“It’s complicated,” he groans. “There are protocols, Forty-two. I can’t…just…I promise it’ll be okay.”
“I wish that was enough for me. Would it have been enough with your daughter?”
“No,” he says through a snort.
“Can you do somethin’ for me?” I ask quietly.
“Maybe.”
“Make sure I’m there for the testing. I need to be there.”
He studies my face, searching for something. I remain stoic, trying to seem desperate and decided at the same time.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he agrees, extending his hand to shake mine.
I grasp his palm and decide if he helps me, I’ll spare his life. He may be working for the devil, but he’s risking something for me. I don’t know what the consequences would be for him going against Canyon Nine, but I assume the punishment is death. This is not a democracy.
“Can I tell you somethin’ personal?” I push after we end our shake.
“Sure.”
“I have the overwhelming urge to smash her boyfriend’s face in.”
J laughs with a bellowing boom. “Good for you. Says you’re a man.”
I let out a relieved breath. He gets me. Thank fuck someone other than Alex does.
“I’ll help you out with that,” he says with a little mischief in his eyes. “She’s not sleeping with him. He’s in a separate apartment.”
I drop my head to my chest and control my breathing. That doesn’t mean Deacon’s not fucking Alannah, but it gives me hope.
J slaps my back a few times before continuing. “You’ll get to raise your son. Enjoy that. It’s a gift.”
I nod.
“I’m done for the night. You gonna get some shut eye?”
“I doubt it,” I grumble.
“Wanna play cards?” he asks cautiously as L walks in.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“I’m gonna hang around with Forty-two for a bit. He’s havin’ a rough night,” J explains to his shift replacement.
L shrugs and pops earbuds in, ignoring us. He’s too relaxed to be a quality guard. When I find a way out of here, it’ll be one of his shifts.
J and I sit at the card table and start a game of hearts. We play for hours until the lights brighten, signaling the start of the day.
“I should get goin’,” J says after losing to me again.
“Thanks, J…for everything,” I respond kindly.
He nods at me before leaving the common room, kicking a sleeping L as he passes. I chuckle when L jumps and squeals like a girl. J winks at me over his shoulder before he disappears.
L starts to say something when Alex comes racing out of the bunkroom. When his eyes land on me, he relaxes until he catches L staring at him with a questioning look.
“Someone blew ass in there. You’d run too,” Alex snarks and L snickers.
“Let’s go eat,” I suggest.
L goes back to being worthless as Alex and I move into the dining hall. Four attendants are already in here setting up the buffet. Their gazes are more watchful with me this morning. I guess everyone knows about Alannah and the baby. They’re probably waiting for me to click out. If they only knew how close I am, they’d have me strapped to a chair Hannibal Lecter style.
Alex and I go about eating our breakfast and pretending everything is fine. The rest of the bearers slowly join us, and the day becomes normal. A typical day of behaving like a pod person living in harmony for the greater good of society as we use our shields to fend off the evil Sage Development.
My life has become a comic book.
With no testing announced as we finish up our breakfast, my stomach drops. This is really happening.
“Gym?” Alex asks, sensing my need to beat the fuck out of something.
I nod, and we head in that direction. The dragons follow us, ribbing each other. If I had to guess, I would say they were athletes or something that required physicality before Canyon Nine got them. They’re all large, easy-going guys. The dragons know each other. Not that they remember it, but from the way they are with each other, there’s an underlying camaraderie between them that didn’t originate in our white torture chamber.
The gym doors swing open, and I crack my neck. It’s not really a gym. No sharp objects. No weights. No machines. It’s a padded, open floor space for us to fight and wrestle. What I wouldn’t give for a set of weights and a heavy bag today.
I drop to the floor and start hammering out pushups. I’ll have to exhaust myself to function with any believability today. Alex lowers himself near me and starts doing crunches. His body isn’t ripped or sculpted like mine, but he’s in good shape. The dragons are taking turns pinning each other to the ground. I’ll join them once I’m certain I won’t snap one of their necks.
I want to sweat.
I want to feel the droplets rolling down my skin, cooling my rage. I switch to leg lifts without paying attention to the others in the room. I need to get a hold of myself. I can do this. I have a purpose. Alannah and the baby. I don’t have to mourn her anymore. I can save her. I will fucking save her.
Vengeance may have to wait. That’s the center of my rage. Getting Alannah out of here has pushed Sorcha’s dying eyes to the background, and I feel guilty. I spend hours every day going over the events in the bunker. What if I would have remained calm until I had a clear shot at the man that killed Sorcha? I could have saved them both and wouldn’t have been in a homicidal temper tantrum when Deacon came to and chloroformed me. I fucked up. I fucked up because I was emotional. I know better. I am better than that. I’ll prove it this time. I won’t fuck up.
“Forty-two,” J hollers from the door.
I jump
to my feet and lock eyes with him. He indicates with his chin that I follow him before leaving the gym.
“They never let you off the hook do they?” Thirty-six asks as I walk past him.
The other reason I believe the dragons knew each other before Canyon Nine is that their numbers are sequential. They ended up here together.
“It’s for the greater good,” I quip.
They nod in agreement as Alex walks in step with me. I whisper to him without moving my lips just as we go through the door, “J’s helpin’ me. I asked to be there for the testing.”
“Can we trust him?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly as J nods at me from the door in the common room.
“Later,” I say in a normal voice as I pound my fist with Alex’s.
“Good luck,” he responds.
I move past J into the corridor as he begins speaking.
“Doctor Slone owed me a favor, and I called it in for you. She’s allowing you to be present for the testing. You’ll have to keep it together. Don’t allow your instincts to protect take you over. She’ll remove you if you do.”
I nod. Easier said than done, but I’ll do my best.
“Thank you, J,” I respond sincerely.
“No man should be kept away from his child,” he grumbles as we reach the lab.
I stride through the doors and spot Alannah instantly. She’s lying flat on her back on a testing bed. Her arms are out to the side on thin boards, making her pose in a very sacrificial way. I fucking hate it.
“Forty-two,” Bethany purrs, sliding up to me.
Thank Sorcha’s gods for Canyon Nine’s no fraternization policies. She wants my dick. She’s made that shit known along with the fact that it can’t happen because of the rules here.
Her fingers stroke the back of my hand as I look down into her plain brown eyes. I find lust oozing from them as she says, “I’m sure this is difficult for you. If I can help you in anyway, all you have to do is ask.”
That wasn’t subtle.
“Drake,” Alannah snarls, snapping my head in her direction at the proprietary tone.
There’s my woman. She’s pissed and staring daggers at Bethany. If looks could kill, the woman standing next to me would be a pile of flesh and bones on the sterile white tile.
I stalk toward Alannah, Bethany completely forgotten. I keep my eyes locked on her electric blues as I approach. She’s pissed, and it’s confusing her. I can work with that.
“Hey,” I say quietly with affection I know I shouldn’t use.
“Hi,” she replies with a sigh. “Pregnancy hormones have made me a little cranky. Sorry about that. Is she your…uh…are you two…involved?”
“No,” I growl, dropping into the chair next to her bed surely meant for Deacon’s absent ass to occupy.
She grins happily at my response, and I smirk right back at her. Alannah may not remember me, but her subconscious does, and it’s pushing her toward me.
The lab is buzzing with researchers. I try to ignore them and focus on my woman. There are electrodes all over her milky skin attached to monitors. I wish I knew what they all meant, but I don’t. They don’t work on me, so I’ve never experienced them.
She’s wearing a white hospital gown with a white sheet pulled up under her ample chest, which I note has grown with pregnancy. There are no IVs or any other needles in her. I trail my eyes down to her bump. Two round disk-like things are beneath the sheet. I trail the wires from them to a monitor. There’s no read out.
I know there’s nothing wrong with my son, but I feel my pulse raise with worry all the same.
“He’s fine,” Alannah assures me.
I swallow thickly and interlace my fingers with hers. She doesn’t hesitate to squeeze back, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s flush to her cheeks as a memory passes through her big blue eyes.
“You okay?” I ask in a husky voice.
“I remember something. Holding your hand. In a car or…” she trails off.
While I was buried inside you creating our son. That’s what I want to say. The words are kissing my lips as Dr. Sadist and Deacon stride from her office in scrubs. Alannah spots them as Deacon spots me holding her hand. I hold her tighter. Fuck him.
“I’m scared,” Alannah whimpers.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Alannah,” I state matter-of-factly and she slightly relaxes.
“Drake, I’m glad you could join us,” Dr. Sadist says with no conviction.
I pin her with a look. A meaningful one that says if she tries to keep me away, I’ll be her worst fucking nightmare. I can’t stop myself. I should, but I don’t.
When I look back to Alannah, she’s staring at me. I feel like I can hear her mind struggling to clear away the drugs so she can find me. She will. I know my woman’s strong. She’ll find me.
“Alannah,” Deacon growls and she whips her head in his direction not dropping my hand. Ha! “Why don’t you let Drake observe from over there?”
“I’d like him to stay. He’s been through this. It’s nice to have someone with me who understands,” she replies simply.
“Of course,” he grinds out.
“Alannah, I’m going to begin. Do your best to communicate everything you’re feeling and experiencing,” Dr. Sadist instructs before covering her face with a white surgical mask. Deacon does the same. Apparently, this fucker is going to get in on the action.
Dr. Sadist pulls a scalpel off the rolling table next to her and Alannah tenses. I run my thumb across her knuckles in a soothing pattern. It works on her. It doesn’t on me.
With the sheet pulled back, Dr. Sadist draws the blade along Alannah’s thigh, and I force myself not to watch. I spot J across the room and lock eyes with his grey-greens. He nods at me. He gets my struggle.
“Ow,” Alannah hisses.
“Initial incision in the sartorius region. Subject exhibits typical reaction to pain. Resistance found in the papillary. Limited bleeding,” Dr. Sadist reports as Bethany charts on a tablet while glowering at me.
“On a scale from one to ten, can you describe the pain you felt?” Deacon asks.
“A three,” Alannah answers with a shrug.
“Camera!” Dr. Sadist barks. Another researcher passes her a small handheld device that she points at Alannah’s leg.
“Incision is self-healing after,” she glances at her watch, “thirty-two seconds.”
Dr. Sadist continues to film as everyone else watches Alannah’s skin mend back together before sealing without so much as a mark on her. Dr. Sadist drops the camera onto the table and grabs another scalpel before dragging it across the same place.
I squeeze Alannah’s hand, bracing for a tortured scream to break from her lips. Nothing comes. The blade causes nothing.
“Initial incision is now impenetrable,” Dr. Sadist grumbles as I dip my chin to hide my smirk.
“Can you describe what you just felt, Alannah?” Deacon asks, his eyes wild with something. He’s a sadist too. He’s getting off on this shit.
“Pressure?” Alannah responds, turning her big blue eyes to me for confirmation of the sensation.
“I don’t know how to describe it either. It’s not so much pressure as it is an awareness something is touching you,” I try to explain.
“Yes!” she exclaims. “But I can feel the pressure where you’re holding my hand. It’s different. Is it different for you too?”
“Yeah,” I respond sweetly.
Deacon clears his throat, breaking our moment. Fucker.
“You’re doing good, sweetheart,” he croons and she smiles broadly at him.
I look away from him and lock eyes with J again. He’s my sanity lifeline in the room. He slightly shakes his head no at me, reminding me to keep my shit together. I take a deep breath and watch Dr. Sadist hold a scalpel to the bottom of Alannah’s foot.
“Second attempt at incision along the arch of the foot shows no reaction,” she grumbles before stabbing sharply.
<
br /> Alannah recoils her leg while sitting up to smack the doctor across the face. Dr. Sadist stumbles away, holding her cheek as she drops the scalpel with a clatter to the floor.
Attendants rush at Alannah while the pussy who’s supposed to be her boyfriend hurries to the side of the doctor.
“Don’t,” I snarl, placing myself between Alannah and attendant A just as J slides up next to me.
“Don’t interfere, Forty-two,” A orders.
“If you—”
“Back away,” J cuts me off in words as well as with his body.
Alannah’s sitting on the bed now huddled behind my frame as I scan the area. Deacon’s fawning over Dr. Sadist, completely unaware what’s going on with Alannah.
“She needs to be restrained,” A commands.
“No,” Dr. Sadist finally chimes in. “I should have warned her what I was going to do. I’m not used to working with typical subjects. I’m sorry, Alannah.”
Her apology is weak at best. J nudges A away before giving me a chin lift. He’s got this under control.
“Let’s continue,” Dr. Sadist says shakily.
“I’m done for the day,” Alannah states from behind my back.
“We’ve just begun,” Deacon responds, still not attending to his girlfriend.
“Don’t talk to me,” Alannah snarls at him. “Drake, can you take me back to my apartment?”
“I’ll take you, sweetheart. I’m—”
“I’m pregnant, hormonal, freaked out and she just stabbed me in the foot. You didn’t even look at me much less check on me. If you touch me right now, you’ll get worse than what she did,” she threatens seriously, as Deacon makes a move to brush hair away from her face.
“I want Drake to take me to my apartment,” Alannah growls at Dr. Sadist.
“Of course. Again, I’m very sorry,” she replies in her fake, kind voice.
“Take this shit off me,” Alannah snaps at Bethany, who’s been watching the whole interaction with shock on her face.
“Alannah,” Deacon scolds her coarse language.
I’ve noticed my woman’s a bit softer than she used to be. I like the tiger so much better. It’s not just her though. All of the bearers are kind and calm. There’s a fake serenity in this place that gives me the creeps. I’m sure it’s something Dr. Sadist has done. I can’t wait to get Alannah free from it and back to her mouthy self.
Misunderstood Miracles Page 10