“But ... you just saw what happened. The new variation isn’t ready. She’ll get into your thoughts just as easily as you’ll get hers—”
“Dammit. I don’t care about that,” Gordon yelled. “I want it done. We’re running out of time. The public needs to see her as the villain. Forget it. Take fresh samples. Do the exchange now.”
Astor scurried to a cabinet at the back of the room, his slippers sliding over the tile floor.
Steppe nodded to someone behind him and seconds later, hands closed around my arms. I kicked out but the guard was faster. I was herded to the chair Chris had vacated. Beside me, his body lay cold and lifeless on the table. I looked away before I caught sight of his face.
“Get him out of here,” Gordon snapped.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a guard collect Chris in his arms and carry him out. I couldn’t watch. A sob rose up but I bit down on my cheek to hold it in. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth and a sniffle escaped before I could silence it.
“Don’t cry for him. He made his choice. You’re making yours.”
I whirled and stared across the table at Steppe. “This is not my choice,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You can refuse this anytime. It has to be given freely, remember?”
“Fine. I refuse. Take me back to my room.”
The remaining guards eyed Steppe.
“You heard the girl. Escort her back,” he told them. I pushed to my feet. They moved to approach me and Steppe added, “Just keep in mind what you’re giving up.” He flicked his wrist toward where Astor gathered syringes and cotton swabs at the back of the room. “An uncle who loves you enough to risk his life in order to be the one to treat you. Who would kill, in fact, if it meant saving his niece. A pack, or what’s left of them, of hybrids that will probably end up like your second in command being buried out back. Olivia’s not nearly as good at this as you.”
I lowered myself back to my chair. The guards stepped back again but I ignored them, my confused expression sweeping both Steppe and Astor. “What do you mean ... kill?”
Gordon’s enjoyment sent off warning bells and I stared at him, my breath caught. “Mr. Sandefur had decided to take matters into his own hands,” he said off-handedly, as if I’d asked for the forecast. He stared at his nails as he spoke and anger burned hot and neat in my veins at his cavalier attitude.
“What matters?” I asked.
“Precisely? You. Much has happened while you’ve been hiding inside those four walls of your little room, Miss Godfrey. The world has seen a different side of you and,” he paused to click his tongue, “I’m afraid it doesn’t paint a very nice picture.”
“What are you talking about? How can the world have any picture of me when I’m stuck in here?”
“Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they can’t see you. You’ve been busy. Usurping me at every turn according to the various videos released. I offer everyone here a choice and those who choose wrong.” He gestured to the metal cages. “Let’s just say the public assumption is that you are the reason they never return to their families.”
“But I’ve been in ... I’ve barely left my room. Why would...?” The cameras, I remembered. Alex, even Mr. Lexington had been hyper-aware of them. Choosing their words so carefully. Always only saying what was necessary. Or what Steppe approved of. “The explosion,” I said.
“Yes, destroying an official building is a capital crime,” Gordon said. “I’d say the safest place for you now is by my side. Making me an ally is maybe the only thing left that will save your public image.”
I glared at him, but when I caught sight of Astor, my temper waned. He was shaking, his hands stuffed in his lab coat pockets, the entire jacket shivering in his fear. He’d killed Mr. Sandefur to protect me?
I sighed, terrified I would be unable to return the favor, but finally determined to try. “I’m listening,” I said in a flat voice.
“Smart choice,” Steppe said and I hated the smugness in his words.
“But I don’t understand. What is this choice everyone keeps talking about? Is it blackmail, like with me?” I asked.
“Not at all. Every hybrid I find is given the option to either take the cure and become a Hunter again or have their Hunter side stripped and remain a Werewolf.”
“What’s the catch?”
“The current law states all hybrids shall be taken into custody in order that they may be killed. Once here, I’m allowing them mercy, to first make a choice that might save them.”
I leaned forward in my chair, half a step from overturning the table and attacking him, wolf or not. “But that’s entrapment. You’re letting them choose Werewolf and then executing them. You call it a choice but if they don’t choose Hunter, they’re dead.”
Is that what Rafe had meant when he said he’d made his choice? Is that why I couldn’t find the rest of my pack?
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is executing anyone.”
I stared back at him. “Bonding then.” It wasn’t a question, but Gordon dipped his chin once in a nod and I finally realized his end game. “You’re using them to experiment on your new bonding technique while the public dubs you a hero for offering to cure the ones that want it. But that’s not possible. There is no cure,” I added.
“You’ve been gone for some time. There are many impossible things happening in our world that would surprise you.” I wasn’t fooled by his casual tone.
“Like what?”
“Hmm, let’s see. Like the fact that your mother has already found a new daughter to replace you.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? The court papers have already been filed for a proper adoption. Oh, and the fact that your grandmother was voted out of CHAS. It seems your family no longer has a foothold in Hunter affairs.”
I scowled, unwilling to admit his words bothered me.
“Or, my favorite,” he went on. “Your mutt boyfriend being arrested for murder. Of a Hunter girl, as a matter of fact. Capital punishment in both worlds.” He clucked his tongue in mock concern and I went numb.
The fog returned. Licking and poking and filling all the empty space in my mind. Cord’s face with the scars and the blood running in rivulets down her perfect cheeks. Staining her shirt. Her hair. And I was covered in it. Because it was on my hands.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I said. I could practically feel Gordon’s triumph, but I ignored it, promising myself it was the smartest—if not only—option I had left.
Within seconds, Astor appeared beside me with a needle perched against my skin. His eyes offered their condolences. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“This is the part where I hurt, isn’t it?” I whispered back.
He sighed and pushed the needle point through my skin. “It is. I’m sorry. It is.”
I winced as Gordon’s blood filled my veins.
Chapter Six
Being held prisoner in that cell had sucked. Being stuck inside my own mind with a man whose dark thoughts had become so twisted he thought killing innocent people was the highest form of justice—that was so much worse.
The images pressed in around me; awake, asleep, it didn’t matter. The moment I let my guard down, they flooded in.
“She can’t be allowed to get away with this,” Mr. Sandefur said in my memory—only it wasn’t my memory. His voice was full of anguish as he stood before another man.
“You know Steppe is twisting this, right?” The second man stepped forward, out of the shadows cast by the closed blinds in the small office and I gasped. Professor Hugo, one of my teachers from Wood Point, stood before Logan’s dad. His face flashed with fierce determination I’d only ever seen him aim at me—in the form of distaste. “He’s manipulating you, man. You’re one of the last loyal to him and he’ll do anything to keep it that way.”
“You saw the video,” Mr. Sandefur said. “Tara was there. She has turned my son against me. She ordered him to fight us and he
did it. What will she do next? I don’t have anyone left to lose.” His voice broke and he hid his face in his hands.
Professor Hugo reached out, but the door opened and they both jerked back. Uncle Astor stood in the small slant of light showing through from the hall. He was breathing heavily and his eyes blazed as he pinned Mr. Sandefur with a look.
“She is not to be touched,” Astor said. “She is family.”
Mr. Sandefur shoved Professor Hugo out of the way. “She turned my family against me,” he roared. “Logan won’t speak to me. He refuses to see me.”
“That,” Professor Hugo said, “is your own doing. You voted with Steppe. Your boy saw it as a betrayal. You will leave that girl alone. Don’t make an enemy of us too.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Mr. Sandefur roared. He whirled and the gleaming weapon was drawn so fast, I almost missed where it slid into Professor Hugo’s ribs. Soft and easy, with the quietest of sounds. The metal must’ve been razor sharp.
Professor Hugo’s eyes widened and he went limp, falling in a crumbled heap only after Mr. Sandefur pulled the knife free and shoved his friend aside. Mr. Sandefur hesitated. His hands trembled as he turned to face Astor.
But Astor was gone.
The memory shifted into another scene, almost like a fast-forward on a recording. Mr. Sandefur standing outside the door to my room. His shoulders were hunched and his expression was one of contrasting sadness to the wild anger he’d worn a moment ago. His cheeks, his skin, his jaw—all of it sagged under the weight of the guilt he carried. His steps were slow but full of purpose. He paused and retrieved his ID card, holding it ready to swipe over the automatic reader that controlled the lock.
Abruptly, his hand went rigid and his arm fell heavily against him. He hit the wall, leaning hard, and slid to the floor. I heard myself cry out but it felt foreign, like someone else picking up the noise through a wall. I was so solidly wrapped in the memory it felt as if I were there.
When Astor looked up from where he stood over Mr. Sandefur, it seemed as if our eyes met. We stared back at each other for a long moment before he looked away—down at the stake buried in Mr. Sandefur’s back. “No one must hurt her. That was our deal,” Astor said in a wispy voice.
“I never said I’d be the one to protect her.” The deep bass rumbled from my chest—only it wasn’t my chest. Disoriented, the memory abruptly faded and I tumbled back into the reality of my room.
Night fell and I struggled to hold back any more memories. I’d seen enough already. Steppe had been there and done nothing to stop it. I didn’t want to feel or think or know anything else he had to offer.
But keeping Steppe out of my head space wasn’t easy. And it zapped my strength. Now I understood what had killed Chris. It wasn’t Olivia taking his health. It was the fight to keep her out of his head. Within minutes of the blood transfusion, I’d felt the darkness that signaled Steppe’s arrival into my awareness. The black cloud that made up Steppe’s mental capacity was so much worse than Nick or Janie or any of my pack before this. It was smarter for one, cunning even, and it had purpose: me.
It wanted the alpha spot and I’d be damned if I gave it up. From the second the blood bond had taken effect, we’d been battling—and I wasn’t about to concede.
Astor came to check on me once and managed to slip me some more drugs. The pills kept me sedated enough that my thoughts were inaccessible through the night. But now, I was awake, and Gordon Steppe was pressing into my awareness like water through a thin sheet.
He wanted to merge. My head hurt and my chest pounded with the effort of keeping him at bay. I lay down, pulling my knees to my chest, and curled into a tight ball. It probably wasn’t an effective way conserve my strength to huddle this way, but I pretended it did some good.
Across the room, the lock turned over with a click and the door opened. I rolled over, expecting Astor again, but it was Mr. Lexington instead. He was shaved and dressed in a gray suit and, for once, his strange scent didn’t knock me over upon arrival. Something was different. I sniffed. He smelled like fresh air that could only have come from his being outside this place.
I sat up when he came close. He offered me the mug in his hand. “Drink this,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked as I reached for it, but he didn’t bother to answer.
I stared into the murky white liquid inside the little cup. It looked like watered-down milk, but I knew better. Nothing they’d done to me or asked of me was as pleasant as that. I’d been poked and prodded, smacked and shoved. But the worst was the bond trying to shove its way from my veins to my brain. I’d choose physical assault over this type of warfare any day.
Mr. Lexington sneered while I hesitated and I didn’t need a bond to tell me that he was clearly hoping I’d refuse the drink so he could do whatever necessary to forcibly convince me. No way could I stand up to that and block out the bond trying to shove its way in. And he knew it.
I hesitated a little longer but, in the end, I took the shot.
The liquid was cold and sickly sweet in my mouth. It felt fuzzy—almost like champagne bubbles in my stomach. Warmth spread from my belly to my chest and then it dissipated and I felt like me again.
Mr. Lexington took the empty cup and gestured for me to follow. “Come on. Mr. Steppe wants a word,” he said.
“I’m not dressed,” I said, gesturing to the sweatpants and long-sleeved tee I was still wearing from last night.
“Luckily it’s not a formal event,” he said. “Come on.”
I followed him out the door and fell into step behind him with two armed guards behind me. Not that I planned to try anything. My entire focus was on keeping Gordon out and myself conscious. There wasn’t anything left for an escape attempt. I barely noticed the state of my surroundings as we made our way back to the clinic.
Astor greeted us just inside the door. He wrung his hands when he spotted me. “Goodness gracious. You’re here.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing. You’re here,” he repeated. His left brow twitched twice as often as he blinked.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “And so is Steppe and ... Olivia,” I said by way of greeting as I spotted the group assembled.
Steppe and a healthy-looking Olivia stood at the center of the room, halfway between the empty rows of cots and the metal cages. Behind them, along the wall, stood a row of guards. All armed. All with matching expressions of blind obedience. And Steppe thought my pack was a bunch of lap dogs.
“Tara, how are you feeling?” Gordon asked. Something stabbed at the edges of my thoughts, a silent inquiry to go along with the question, and I scowled.
“You tell me,” I said, wandering closer to where they stood.
A table had been set up with various medical supplies strewn about. Several tubes of blood, now empty, lay discarded between torn packets of alcohol swabs and bandages. I gave each of them a once-over and spotted a bandage peeking out from underneath Olivia’s sleeve.
My eyes narrowed. “What am I doing here?” I asked.
“Proving yourself,” Steppe said.
“And either killing or saving your pathetic uncle in the process,” Olivia added, earning a warning glare from Steppe.
My pulse sped and I glanced to where Astor stood huddled in the corner near the door. Guards stood nearby, awaiting orders.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, wary now.
“You need to stop fighting the inevitable and let me in,” Steppe said. He leaned toward Olivia but I could still hear every word as he said, “She’s stronger than her pack mate. Still fighting this losing battle and shoving me out.”
Olivia folded her arms, obscuring the bandage. Her color was lovely and that fact alone made my jaw ache for her flesh. “Not for long. She’ll choose. Just like the rest of them.”
“So you say. We’ll see,” Steppe said. He straightened and raised his chin at one of the guards. “Bring her out.”
A door opened.
I hadn’t noticed it before, wedged between a gap in the cages on my left, but now three armed guards stepped through. Their weapons were drawn and the moment they entered the room, they turned and pointed guns at the doorway.
A moment later, a girl stepped through. Her head was down, both cheeks swollen and red. Her exposed arms were bruised and she walked with a limp. For a second, I couldn’t believe my eyes. But the piece of Steppe that sat in the bleachers of my subconscious applauded and I knew I wasn’t seeing things.
She stopped just inside the room, eyes aimed at the floor.
I gasped. “Victoria?” I asked.
Slowly, she raised her eyes to mine. Her eyes widened, then filled with moisture. It was the only reaction she gave at seeing me. And then, just as quickly, she ducked her head again and stared at the tiled floor. If she saw her father across the room, she gave no indication. No sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks. It broke my heart—and made me determined to fight Steppe to the very end for doing this to her.
I growled and took a step, ready to launch myself at the man to blame for this, but the guards swiveled and re-aimed their weapons at me. “Hold it there,” Steppe said and I stopped.
“Right reaction. Wrong target,” he said.
“What does that even mean? Why did you do this to her?” I demanded. Before he could answer, I turned to Victoria. “Which one of them did this to you?”
She didn’t respond.
“She’s not going to answer you,” Olivia said.
I rounded on her. “You will, though. I can promise you that,” I said.
“So quick to point fingers, cast blame.” Steppe nodded at one of the guards over my head and for a second, I thought they were being ordered to grab me. I braced myself for it but instead, they moved away and grabbed hold of Mr. Lexington.
“What the hell?” he demanded, twisting in an effort to break free, but they held fast. “What are you doing?” he yelled.
Steppe barely flicked a glance in his direction before his gaze fixed on me. “This is the part where you make that choice you wanted so badly,” he told me.
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