by Reese Morgan
Instead of exchanging emotions with Nicolas, like her crippling bond with Cole, Hayden simply felt presence. The bond had to be similar to what an Alpha shared with his pack members. A canine familial bond.
Or maybe there was no bond.
Maybe, in her desperate grief, she imagined feeling something that was not there.
With her eyes closed, and her mind nearly unconscious, she barely noticed when they descended underground. The air grew thicker and warmer, the smell entirely clinical and just as pungent with suffering as Troy Arnold’s home.
Eyes fluttering, she witnessed bits and pieces of her surroundings. With her body slung over a shoulder, the blood raced to her head and caused further discomfort to her pounding skull. Nonetheless, she strained her eyes to the side, taking in the unusual sight.
They passed many corridors, all twisting into dark, unseen depths. She could hear the moans, though, pain-filled and miserable moans. For a brief second, her eyes found a cell door, instantly noticing the limp hand curled next to the silver bars.
Hayden closed her eyes, her gut wrenching. When Nicolas and Hayden were in Nevada, she’d wondered what was in Celeste’s hideout.
Now she knew.
The impromptu pack, who helped Hayden attack the hideout, all had loved ones kept in a similar environment as this. It was unnerving to realize that Celeste had more than one of these lairs. Full of innocents, victims, and helpless werewolves available for her immoral experiments.
They passed one last cell in the main corridor. Hayden locked eyes with drowsy amber. The man was all skin and bones. The flesh on his body was paper thin and as pale as the sterile walls surrounding him.
Chapped lips pressed together to form a single, unspoken word.
Help.
Hayden looked away hurriedly. She could do nothing to muffle the occasional moan of pain from reaching her ears, the sounds staying with her for all eternity.
They climbed a set of stairs, leaving the area of pain and suffering behind. Her awareness sharpened as darkness and musty air enclosed around her. Wood floorboards squeaked as her captor walked down a narrow hallway.
A door flung open and they entered.
“Good,” a familiar voice praised. “Set her down here.”
None too gently, Hayden was discarded in an uncomfortable chair. Cold water suddenly splashed in her face, startling her enough to snap out of her haziness. She wiped at her face and stared up at Celeste.
The redheaded woman smiled serenely at Hayden. “Ah, you’re awake.”
Her eyes flew around the room, seeing nothing distinguishable. Dark, paneled walls and ceilings enclosed around them. The carpet was a moss green, very short and stiff. It reminded her of a lake house, or an old cabin of sorts.
The only thing that was out of place was the sterile surgical tray and the single needle. Sensing her observance, Celeste rested a pale hand near the tray, a soft smile playing her features.
Dread settled in Hayden’s stomach.
“I think…” Celeste began softly. “You and I need to have a little chat. Woman to woman.” Her eyes then landed on Evan. “Go. Heal yourself. He will keep watch.”
The blond Carrier had somehow managed to wrestle the knife from his eye, yet the dried blood and gore still lingered. He snarled fiercely at Hayden, his usual mirth and insanity no longer evident on his face.
She watched him leave the room, leaving her alone with Celeste and a solid, unmoving puppet by the door. Satisfaction burned within Hayden. Clearly, Celeste thought her enough of a threat to have at least one person nearby.
“Now, Hayden.” Celeste settled on the chair opposite of her. “Why don’t we start from the beginning? Tell me all that you’ve learned.”
Her gaze landed once again on the needle. Whatever was inside would no doubt cause some sort of damage. It affected Cole to the point of extreme fatigue and the belief he’d die. But then again, Celeste held him captive for days.
Hayden exhaled softly, gathering herself. There might be a puppet inside the room, but he was quite a distance away. If she played it smart, she had a chance of killing Celeste.
But what about your father?
The thought suddenly sunk in and Hayden turned cold with the sudden implications. If she killed Celeste, Logan would most likely die alongside his life mate. Was she willing to kill her father by proxy?
Suddenly, things didn’t seem quite so black and white.
15. Chapter Fifteen
“You’re a psychotic bitch.”
Her words penetrated the silence and hung heavily in the air between them. Wild amber eyes held the stare of the woman sitting across from her. Celeste hardly reacted to the insult, but her lips twitched just the slightest.
“You asked me what I’ve learned,” Hayden continued, her voice hoarse from her endless screams and cries. It was petty evidence to the real anguish rotting inside her. “That is exactly what sums up my findings. You. Are. Crazy.”
The pale hand was a mere blur as it slapped her across the face.
The skin burned severely where the hand made contact with her cheek. Hayden pursed her lips, steadying her breathing and the odd, little spark that ignited in her chest.
“Your mother didn’t teach you well with that vulgar language, did she?”
Hayden touched her cheek briefly before dropping her hand back into her lap. She turned and stared at Celeste, maintaining hard, cruel eye contact.
“I learned everything from my father.”
Celeste’s eyes widened a fraction, and a pinched expression danced across her pale features. With the mention of Logan, the atmosphere in the room crinkled with undeniable tension. She sat there, her prim and proper figure gradually stiffening.
When Hayden looked at the woman, all she felt was searing hatred. She didn’t know if she had ever despised someone as much as she despised Celeste. The woman was responsible for many people’s suffering and pain. For their loss. For their freedom.
For Cole.
Sorrow crawled cruelly up her throat. It took all her willpower to stop the imminent breakdown in front of her enemy. The piece in her soul, which once connected so easily with Cole, was barren, empty.
She felt completely defiled and vacant.
“Your father was a terrible man.” Celeste recovered and leaned back in her rickety chair, somehow exuding an aura of sophistication despite their murky surroundings. “Everyone boasts how honorable he was, how he’d done great things for the werewolf community.”
In her grief-stricken mind, Hayden somehow noticed the way Celeste referred to Logan in past tense terms. Either she wanted to give off the impression he was dead, or she did not know Troy Arnold had informed them of his survival.
Either way, Hayden remained emotionless and tight-lipped.
“He killed a great deal of people,” Celeste continued.
“Because he thought he was doing the right thing,” Hayden countered dully.
The redheaded female laughed merrily, an undertone of sarcasm flittering beneath the surface. “You’re a smart little girl, Hayden. You don’t honestly believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what he and Xavier believed.” She gazed at a spot above Celeste’s head. “To me, they were committing a terrible act, but definitely not more or less terrible than what you’re doing.”
Hayden’s eyes drifted down, observing the raw strength Celeste exuded. It reminded her of their first few meetings back at Xavier’s cabin those many days ago. Admittedly, she’d been entranced with Celeste, almost admiring in a sort of envious and star-struck way. Nothing seemed to touch the woman.
She was an enchanter and a seductress. Even now, with all the information Hayden learned, with all the suffering she’d seen, it was almost hard to find Celeste at fault.
Almost.
If it wasn’t for Cole…
It wasn’t even possible for Hayden to see good in this woman. Instead of admiring the intelligent female across from her,
Hayden only saw her ugliness and her poison.
“What I’m doing is saving lives, not destroying them.” Celeste suddenly leaned forward. “Logan and Xavier believed all rogues should die. They wanted to contaminate them, to prevent the spread of werewolves who did not fit the definition of traditional. They were every bit blinded and delusional.”
“And you’re better…how? You turn free individuals into braindead servants.”
“It’s a necessary evil. The way I see it, they are better off being strong, indestructible machines as opposed to buried in a heap underground. No?”
Hayden’s eyes turned to the puppet standing stiffly in the corner of the room. His glazed eyes stared unseeingly and his breathing was hypnotic. “All I see is death,” she murmured.
“I agree.”
The admission took Hayden off guard.
Celeste gazed at the puppet, turning her neck and exposing her throat. She was oblivious to Hayden’s sudden attention on that exposed, vulnerable area. “I don’t necessarily favor my methods, Hayden. Unfortunately, it needs to be this way. At least in the beginning.”
As she turned back around, Hayden intentionally took her time removing her eyes from the other woman’s throat. Celeste lifted a superior eyebrow, no doubt reading Hayden’s intentions and finding it of little threat.
“It’s temporary,” Celeste continued, “creating these mind-numbing supporters. I need to create an army first, with enough numbers to support my goals. Only when I’m satisfied, will I put a stop to their production.”
“How very impressive,” Hayden droned.
The other woman smiled pleasantly and stood up. She neared the needle, grabbing it, before proceeding to loop around the room. Hayden watched her intently, her eyes never once leaving the needle in her hand.
“What are your goals? Total domination?” Hayden forced herself to ask the questions, though she didn’t want to hear Celeste talk any longer.
She wanted to waste time, to contemplate her next move.
Her only escape route was the door, the very same door the puppet guarded. Nothing stood in the room besides a surgical tray and two chairs. She still had her knives, though, and both her hands and feet were unbound.
“I’d figured you grew bored of our discussion.”
Hayden grimaced, hating that she had to spur the other woman to speak when she only wanted to curl up and die. Perhaps she should just let the inevitable happen. What good was she with an empty hole in her soul?
“I suppose you’d want the opposite of what Xavier and Logan strived to achieve.”
“And what did they want to achieve, my darling?” Celeste humored, knowing Hayden was only trying to buy time. Her eyes brightened as she assessed Hayden from across the room.
“They were traditional. You are… radical.”
Celeste laughed truly and caressed the needle with a long finger. “Those two were so set on traditional wolves being a small, unnoticed society. I think it’s time for werewolves to take our spot as the superior race. No one should decide who should live and who should die.”
There was an extremely bitter note in her tone. It was all too evident she had rebelled fiercely against Logan when she’d found out what he and Xavier were experimenting with.
“Werewolves are intelligent, powerful, and beautiful. Humans are smart, but they are sheep in many ways. It’s time for the wolf to shepherd their flock.”
Celeste strutted towards Hayden, a fluid roll to her hips.
“You think Xavier and Logan killed a lot of people. I think you’re killing more.”
“Just those who blatantly oppose me.”
“Like Nicolas. And Cole!” Hayden snarled angrily.
Celeste came to a smooth stop at Hayden’s dispute. Something indistinguishable crossed her features, a shadow of amusement or perhaps sympathetic pity. That only served to enrage Hayden further.
“All those humans who don’t survive your mass transformations are dying!” Hayden exclaimed, remembering the total destruction of the human town she and Cole passed through. “Traditional wolves are dying! Hunters! And all those men and women you experiment on… they are dying! You’re just as much a monster as Logan, if not more so.”
“You’re charming,” Celeste crooned softly and ran a seductive hand across Hayden’s shoulders. “You have a fire and brilliance inside you that I wish to possess for myself. Your father was the same way. It consumed him in the end.”
A shiver of disgust ran the length of Hayden’s spine.
“Unfortunately, I tried once to obtain your support with your free will intact. I suppose I will have to take total obedience and hope your fire still shines through.”
The needle descended and Hayden snarled angrily, surrendering to her wolf.
With unnatural quickness, she lunged off her chair and grabbed Celeste’s long neck with a clawed hand. She squeezed. She crushed. She slammed the woman to the ground and kneeled eagerly on top of her.
Her canines elongated and, possessing little self-control, she lunged for Celeste’s throat. She needed to tear the throat to shreds. She needed to feel the flesh against her teeth and taste the blood of her enemy.
She’d savor the taste, marvel in it. Marvel in her prowess and total domination. She was Alpha. She was a predator and this was her prey, the prey who killed her mate. No toying. She would not waste a moment’s time to gloat and preen. This needed to be done now. Quickly.
Hot saliva burned her mouth and coated Celeste’s throat as she dived for the unprotected flesh. Her canines easily tore through the thin skin and ripped. Blood erupted in her mouth and eased the persistent itch in her gums.
All too soon, strong hands grabbed her and yanked her away from her prey. She growled in frustration and anger, trying to rip herself away from the relenting hold. She thrashed and cried, animalistic sounds coming from her throat.
White fur grew on her arms and her claws pierced the forearms that gripped her. Across from her, her prey scrambled up, wounded, bleeding. The other female was weak and crippled. Hayden had to finish her off now.
“Hold her down!”
Hayden whined and kicked as the unmovable force pinned her down, forcing total submission. She arched her back and refused to succumb.
A sharp prick inserted itself into her jugular and the arms held her down until she became sluggish, limp.
Her human senses slowly returned and her canine counterpart sluggishly retreated from the forefront of her mind. The taste of blood was strong in her mouth and her face contorted painfully. The events leading up to the present were all but a blur for her.
She’d lost total control.
The arms released her and Hayden blinked warily up at the puppet and Celeste. Her limbs began to grow heavy and useless. All the hate and loathing she felt turned dull, leaving her lethargic and exhausted.
“It’s better not to fight it, Hayden.” Celeste pressed a hand to her bleeding throat, crimson fluid seeping between her fingers. “You will make an excellent addition to my pack, I’m sure of it.”
Without another word, Celeste and her puppet left the room, slamming the door shut behind them. Hayden didn’t even hear a lock click in place. It was if Celeste knew she wouldn’t get up and try to escape.
And she was right.
Hayden slowly rolled on her stomach and dragged her body by her forearms, inch by inch. Each passing second increased her suffering and wore on her body. Eventually, she settled in the corner behind the door, drawing up her knees and curling in on herself.
Between Cole’s loss, and whatever was in her bloodstream, Hayden grew despondent. Her wolf receded to the furthest recess of her mind, reminding her of the time she’d sustained severe silver poisoning.
Her strength seeped away and her senses dulled completely. Without her canine counterpart, Hayden felt vulnerable. She could not draw up on her wolf’s strength to deal with the loss. She could not recover and seek her revenge.
Her breathing slowed and she
gazed unseeingly across the room.
She’d almost killed Celeste.
A part of her, a large part, was disappointed in the fact she hadn’t succeeded. But at the time of the attack, she hadn’t even given her father a single thought. Logan and Celeste were tied together. If one died, the other followed.
Did she really want her father’s blood on her hands?
After seeing proof of his immoral deeds, Hayden wondered why she’d even question his demise. The man deserved death. He should have been dead. The whole world believed him to be gone, so why should she care if he died by proxy?
She wouldn’t even see it happen.
But she did care.
She cared because he was her father and he’d been a large part of her life until the age of fourteen. Granted, she didn’t know which part of him was real, and which part was a guise, but she loved him. She adored him as a child and had silly fantasies of seeing him once again, even after he walked out on her and her mother.
Didn’t he deserve to explain his side of the story? Was it really that horrible that he wanted to protect his people and prevent the spread of more rogue werewolves?
Hayden sighed and rested her chin upon her drawn knees.
She didn’t know what to think.
It didn’t matter anyway. She had absolutely no desire to continue fighting. None. What was the point anyway? Cole was gone. Celeste had her undefeatable army. The humans were rebelling against the knowledge of werewolves. And Hunters were out for any sort of Lycan blood they could find.
Hayden bathed in total defeat, allowing herself to nod off. It was a restless sleep, as tremors and cold sweat tormented her body. Her mind cruelly replayed her last moments alone with Cole, the last words and touches, forever discouraging her from closing her eyes.
The ache would never subside.
Never.
Even if they hadn’t completed their bond, they’d still established a strong link.
Distant hollers and shouts drew Hayden slowly out of her inner turmoil. Gunfire sounded, hardly causing her to blink. She stared unseeingly, not caring. Her black depression only grew and blanketed her with unrelenting whispers of defeat.