Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2)

by Veronica Del Rosa

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A familiar feeling swept over Sylvia, one she dreaded. Drugged again. Terror beat at her. Was she back in the prison cell? Was her rescue just a dream? No, no, no, she couldn’t handle going back there.

  Calm, remain calm. Remember what happened, she thought.

  She’d been at Dr. Zayler’s office, and someone had smashed the window. Memories assaulted her: the fight, the doctor getting hit, D hiding a dart gun and then darkness.

  A soft mattress cushioned her body, not the one she used at Derek’s. The scent was wrong, a coldness to it that bothered her nose. Her arm was cushioned under her head while the rest of her body curled into itself, a default position from the prison. Better to have cramped muscles than accidently get burned by the silver in the walls.

  “Don’t bother pretending to sleep. I know you’re awake. I can hear your heart pounding.”

  The calm voice infuriated her. She located him from his own heartbeat and sprang to attack only to pull up short.

  He’d chained her to the bed, a collar around her neck like she was a dog. She yanked at the chain, expecting it to break, as very little could hold a werewolf. And yet the chain stayed strong with no give. What the…?

  “Mage reinforced. You won’t break that chain anytime soon.”

  Still so calm, as if they were discussing the weather instead of her imprisonment. There was no sense of victory or satisfaction at having her captive. There was no break in his icy demeanor, his earlier angry outburst gone.

  “You can’t keep me here. I will escape. You know I will, so just let me go.” A slight trembling in her voice betrayed her fear and panic. Had Dr. Zayler woken up yet? Did anyone know she was missing? Were they looking for her?

  “No one will come for you. I left no trail for them to follow. I’ve studied werewolves enough to know how to fool you.” He moved, again quicker than any human had a right to, and was at the door.

  “What are you?” she whispered.

  No way was he human, but he didn’t smell like another race. He smelled of pure human biology.

  “An experiment. They wanted humans they could trust, and I wanted to be stronger, faster and deadlier.” His smile was a slight lifting of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

  She shuddered. There was so much coldness in his eyes, and she was at the mercy of this madman.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “You’re my mate, and soon you’ll be the mother of my children.” He exited the room, closed the door and locked it.

  She didn’t move, too stunned by his words. His mate? He was insane. And she would never have his children. She’d kill him if he ever tried.

  She paced around the tiny room, almost able to reach the door, but not quite. The chain stopped her less than a foot from the knob. With a huff of frustration, she gave a swift kick to the bed, and it slammed into the wall. Her head jerked when the bed skidded across the floor and she cursed.

  Defeated, she sank onto the bed, its soft mattress sucking her down. Self-pity welled up and the urge to cry became irresistible. Giant, fat tears slid down her face, splashing onto her thighs. Helpless again and at someone else’s mercy. She pounded her fists onto the bed and bit back a scream.

  Why did this keep happening to her? She inwardly railed. Did she have a target on her back? Did something about her flag her as a victim? She banged the back of her head against the wall, pissed off, frustrated and fearful. What if Derek didn’t find her this time? Would she spend months, years as this man’s captive? Could she handle being a prisoner again? She barely survived mentally the last time.

  Scrubbing at her face, she wiped away all traces of her tears. They didn’t help her, and instead, she ended up with a mild, nagging headache from her breakdown.

  The crying proved to be a catalyst for getting her off her butt and assessing her situation. Yes, he’d chained her. Yes, no one knew where she was. And yes, D was fucking crazy. However, she wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t stupid, and by no means was she sitting around waiting to be rescued. It was time she acted instead of reacted.

  She surveyed the room, searching for anything to help. Unfortunately, D had learned a lot from his time at the compound.

  The walls were bare. No pictures or decorations adorned it. The bed was the sole furniture. Its solid steel frame gave her hope. While the chain was unbreakable, it didn’t mean the frame was. Steel might take her a while to snap, but she could eventually do it.

  There were no windows. The single exit from this room was the locked door. It seemed this used to be a storage room for preservatives and canned goods. Faded outlines of shelves marred the cheap, peeling wallpaper. Running her hands over the wall, she searched for a hidden door or a walled-over window. She ripped off some of the nasty pale pink rose wallpaper to find it covered decaying drywall. When she punched a hole through it, she found brick instead of more drywall. Ah good, an outer wall. This she could work with.

  Oddly enough, she felt confident and hopeful. Now that her initial panic and depression had subsided, she realized escape shouldn’t be too difficult. As far as she knew, there was only D guarding her. The chains may be unbreakable, but she could work around that. The walls didn’t have silver in them, and she was pretty sure the door didn’t either. A lock would keep her in for only so long.

  A giggle escaped, and euphoria bubbled through her. She was thinking like an Enforcer and not a victim. Just because some crazy nutjob fixated on her didn’t mean she deserved it. She needed to remember the breakthrough she’d had at Dr. Zayler’s office.

  She was a survivor, not a victim. It was time she acted like one.

  Sylvia sat calmly on the bed, made several plans and discarded a few. Time was on her side for now, so she wanted to account for different scenarios. There was a possibility he had a large stockpile of drugs, but the likelihood of that was low. He could’ve been steadily stealing them from the compound, except they would’ve caught him, given the number of cameras they had.

  Most likely he’d only had what he used while on duty. Maybe he’d be hesitant to waste any of it unless she was unruly. How far could she push him before he used a dart? Could she take him out before he had the chance to knock her unconscious?

  Remembering how swiftly he moved and the punishment he could take, she realized she’d have to take him by surprise. Could she pretend to be biddable, let him touch her, maybe even seduce him a little? Revulsion shuddered through her. Allowing any man, never mind this one, to touch her was a violation of her bond with Derek.

  But what was that bond worth if she gave up, didn’t bother fighting for her freedom no matter what it took? She owed it to herself and to Derek to do everything possible to escape.

  The scratch of a key entering the lock caught her attention. The door squeaked open, and D entered. In his hands, a covered dish. Her stomach rumbled when the smell wafted to her nose. She hadn’t eaten since the previous day, had expected to have lunch after her session with the doctor. Instead D had derailed her plans, and now her stomach was in protest from lack of food.

  “Ah good, you’re hungry,” he said with a cold smile. “I’ve made some food for you.”

  He placed the covered dish on the bed next to her. He was so close. One swipe across the throat, and he’d be down. She forced herself to stay her hand. Patience would win this game.

  With a flourish, he removed the cover and looked pleased with himself. She had to admit, he had a reason to be proud. On the plate sat bacon-wrapped chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy and a side of mixed veggies. It smelled amazing, and her mouth watered in hunger.

  A part of her didn’t trust him, didn’t want to taste the potentially drug-laced food, and yet, what would be the point of him drugging her food? She wavered back and forth until hunger and the need to keep her strength up won out. While she could go several days, sometimes over a week, without food or drink, it wasn’t pleasant and severely weakened her.

  Attacking the food wit
h gusto – and secretly amazed he’d given her a fork and knife – she inhaled it. She felt bad for not savouring it then called herself an idiot for caring about the sociopath’s feelings. He stood near the door, watching her every move, with a curious glint in his eye.

  It almost seemed like joy.

  When she finished, he gathered the plate and cutlery. From the careful way he checked the items over, she knew it’d be next to impossible to hide the knife or fork from him.

  He smiled smugly at her and said, “See, you can eat my food, too, not just his. You trust me. You’re my mate, not his.”

  Too shocked to retaliate or deny his words, she watched as he left. She hadn’t realized the way he’d interpret it.

  A horrifying thought dawned on her. He’d listened to her entire session with Dr. Zayler.

  How many sessions had he listened to? How much had he learned about her? He knew when and where her therapy appointments were, or else he wouldn’t have found her. With Jackson teleporting her there, he couldn’t have followed them. She’d given him a perfect opportunity to listen in by insisting the window be left open.

  With a furious roar, she vented her anger against the mattress, tearing into it and destroying the sheets. The pillow didn’t fare much better as she tore it apart as well.

  Panting from exertion, she collapsed on the wooden floor and curled into a ball. She wanted to cry again but didn’t trust herself to stop anytime soon. Squeezing her rage, fear and violation deep down, she tried to steady herself. She needed a clear head, but the chaotic thoughts kept pounding at her.

  She was to blame for this.

  If she’d been able to overcome her damn phobia, he wouldn’t have heard her. If she’d been able to handle all this on her own, she wouldn’t have been at a therapist’s, therefore making herself vulnerable.

  Her mind finally exhausted, she stretched out and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Shame clawed at her over her outburst until she realized it was the first time she’d let loose the anger inside her. She’d been holding it in, refusing to acknowledge it. When she was at the compound, she didn’t want to give them a reason to drug her. After her rescue, she felt she didn’t have a right to be angry. She was free, wasn’t she?

  Except she had every right to be ticked off. They’d stolen a part of her life from her, tortured her and put her family through hell while she’d been missing.

  And now this arrogant bastard thought he could do the same. He’ll soon find out he picked the wrong woman to take. She was fighting back and would prove once and for all that she deserved the title of Werewolf Enforcer and Beta for Derek Quinlan, the meanest bastard around.

  Grinning fiercely, she jumped up and dusted herself off. Ignoring the mess she’d made of the bed and pillow, she instead focused on the wall. The dent had gone unnoticed by D, but it’d be hard for him to miss a huge gaping hole.

  For now, she was alone, although that could change at any moment. Did she have time to make a large opening in the wall before he came back? What if he had cameras? A swift assessment showed no cameras; however, with how small they could be made, it’d be hard to spot some of them anyways.

  Shrugging, she decided to chance it. If he came back, then she’d deal with him. No use borrowing trouble when she already had more than her fair share. Figuring she had a few moments before he’d come running, she moved swiftly. She aimed a few well-timed punches at the wall mid-waist, increasing the damage until it was wide enough for her head to fit through. Kneeling, she ripped downwards at the drywall, pulling off huge chunks and tossing it behind her.

  The faint sound of footsteps froze her for a second before she moved in a frenzy of energy. She pulled the bed over to the hole and covered it with the headboard. Then she punched and kicked the other walls, leaving dents and broken drywall in her wake. By the time she finished, a cloud of dust hung in the air, creating a ghostly atmosphere.

  A death shroud of powder clung to her.

  Her lungs hurt each time she inhaled as the particles invaded her airway. Eyes stung as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. A few tears fell, and she scrubbed them away, leaving streaks in the gray dust on her cheeks.

  The door pushed open, and light streamed in, catching the dust in its rays. The now familiar shape of D’s body moved into the entrance, blocking some of the light. She glared at him resentfully, wanting to attack him.

  “I think it’s time we discussed the ground rules. First, you won’t be getting out of that collar. As I said, it’s mage reinforced, I don’t have the key on me, and there’s a sweet little feature the mage added to the lock. So even if you killed me, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. Second, you’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. Since they changed me, I’ve avoided women. They can’t take my affection anymore. Too weak. You, however, you took every hit I gave you and came back for more. You stood toe to toe with me.”

  Disgust and revulsion warred inside her. He was perverting the thoughts she had about Derek. Many times she marveled at how well they fit together, that they felt comfortable enough with each other to speak their minds. Just recently she’d experienced the same possessiveness towards Derek that D was now expressing about her, willing to kill to keep her.

  No. No, her love for Derek was different than the obsession D had for her. She would never keep Derek a prisoner. Would never deny him the choice. Would never do anything to hurt him. D wouldn’t hesitate to cause pain to keep her in line.

  “In time, you’ll come to want me. You’ll see I’m the better man. And your little attempt at escape,” he continued as he waved his hand towards the destroyed walls, “it won’t work. I’ll tranq you before you even leave the room. If you managed to get out, I’ve paid a mage for extra safeguards. There’s a dampening field that stops any scrying or mental links. I know about the Alpha’s ability to connect with his pack and find them. That won’t work here. The barrier also packs a hell of an electrical punch. Touch it and you’ll be out cold.”

  Her stomach dropped as he systematically destroyed each of her hopes. Even if she killed him, she’d still be trapped in this house. A very isolated house, if she went by the lack of noise and outside traffic. Not once had she heard a car drive by or people talking, which meant they were either outside of the city, or he had a piece of very rare property that muffled all noise.

  Stiffening her spine, she refused to let him see how his words affected her. He valued strength? He valued adversity? Well, she’d certainly give him a taste of it. She wouldn’t give him an inch if she could help it. In the manner of the werewolf, she turned her back to him, dismissing him from her mind and showing him to be of no threat.

  She knew he understood her gesture when he appeared by her side using his preternatural speed. Gripping her shoulder tightly, he spun her around.

  “Never turn your back on me again. I am your master, not your inferior. Do it again and you’ll learn what I’m capable of.” His words were low, all the scarier from the control in his voice.

  There was no hint of emotion on his face. Only the fingers digging into her flesh betrayed his icy displeasure. Had he been her Alpha, the appropriate response would have been to show her neck in a sign of submission. She refused to submit, though. He wasn’t her Alpha and never would be. She stared him down, not giving him an inch.

  She would no longer cower.

  After a long moment, D released her arm and stalked out of the room. She sank to the floor, drained and exhausted. While he had punched holes in her escape plan, that didn’t mean she was giving up. No longer would she let someone else dictate her fate. Her head drooped, and she dozed off. The lack of sleep from previous nights had finally worn her down, and she was unable to stay awake any longer.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close. The solid thud, thud of Derek’s heartbeat echoed in her ear and comforted her. How she missed having him next to her. A gentle kiss placed on her head had her turning her face upwards. Sh
e wanted a proper greeting, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “You’re not real. I’m dreaming this,” she whispered sadly, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone.”

  She squeezed him tighter.

  Fingers skimmed across her face and into her hair, palms covering her cheeks. “I’m looking for you. I’m not giving up. This time we have a better lead on what happened. We’re tracking down everything we can about this man. We have video of him from outside the therapist’s office, and we’re cross-referencing it with the personnel from the compound. I’ll find you.”

  “He has a dampening field around his house. It’s supposed to stop mental links. He also has a collar and chain on me. It’s spelled against me breaking it, and he’s done something to the lock. I don’t have the full details. I’ll try to get what I can out of him.” She tried to give him as much information as possible before a thought struck her. “Wait a minute. How are we talking? Damn it, this is just a dream.”

  “No, it’s our lifebond. It keeps trying to snap into place, and I’m no longer resisting it. However, it’s still not enough to break through the shielding. I have Mara helping me. One of her areas of expertise is telepathy. She’s boosting the link. I’ve been trying for the past few hours with no luck until you fell asleep.”

  An emotion she’d never seen before shadowed his eyes – fear. He’d taken on countless adversaries, eager for bloodshed, and yet now, he was afraid.

  “I’ve caused you so much pain.”

  Her fingers touched his lips, and he gently kissed the tips. The corners of his mouth lifted.

  “No, sweetheart. Pain is being without you. You didn’t cause this, he did.” Anger painted his face with brutal lines. Anyone else and she would’ve been worried, but she knew Derek would never turn his anger on her or an innocent. “Has he hurt you at all? Are you okay? I can’t tell in this dream, since it’s your subconscious projecting the image.”