Wolf Games (The Vampire Games Book 4)

by Caroline Peckham

  Ulvic trembled.

  He took two deep breaths, before he gave in.

  “Jameson,” Ulvic's tone was as sharp as it had been the day he'd ordered me to kill my pack. My family. “Hurt her.”

  My muscles bunched, my hands curled into fists. Lynch pushed Nancy toward me, keeping a tight grip on her shoulder so she couldn't run.

  I tried to come up with the simplest way to hurt her without causing serious damage. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked backwards.

  “There, she's hurt,” I growled as she yelped.

  “More,” Alfric snarled and that word drilled into my skull.

  Ulvic gave the command and I yanked her hair harder so her neck was exposed to me.

  “Please- stop!” she wailed.

  Alfric let out a delighted laugh. “The Werewolf resists you. What an enthralling game. Have him choke her, Ulvic.”

  Ulvic hesitated a few moments before giving the order.

  My hands locked around Nancy's throat and Lynch was forced to release her.

  “Ulvic!” I barked. “Don't do this,” I growled, my wrists seizing up as my grip tightened without any will of my own.

  Nancy gazed up at me, terrified. She didn't understand and that made it worse, so much worse.

  “It's not me,” I told her, but she only looked more scared.

  “Tighter,” Alfric commanded in a hungry tone and Ulvic echoed his order.

  My fingers tensed, my thumbs pressed down on her windpipe. Barbed wire seemed to coil around my insides. I was rigid, trying to fight it with every ounce of my being, but fear consumed me as I realised this wasn't going to stop. Nancy was turning blue, her tongue swelled and lolled out of her mouth.

  “Kill her,” Alfric said, his tone cutting.

  “F-father, please,” Ulvic said quietly.

  “You will do as I say, Ulvic. I command you, as the son who betrayed me, to do as I ask, in penance to me.”

  “Ul-vic,” I said through grinding teeth.

  “Do it,” Alfric growled. “Now.”

  “Jameson...d-do as he says,” Ulvic ordered and my hands wheeled sideways.

  SNAP.

  Dying is slow. Death is not.

  Nancy slumped to the floor at my feet.

  Alfric was laughing and banging the end of his cane on the floor.

  I gazed down at my hands, curled with tension, white from the force it had taken to break Nancy's neck. I'd managed it despite lacking my usual strength.

  “Lock him up.” Alfric waved a hand at me.

  I lurched away before Lynch could touch me, ready to throw some serious punches.

  “Go with him, do as Lynch says,” Ulvic commanded and my heart shook like an earthquake.

  Do as he says?

  Did he have any idea how much power he'd just given Lynch over me?

  Jesus H. Christ. I was screwed, and from the look on Lynch's face, he knew that, too.

  Cass

  Days turned into a week. I hadn't seen Silas since he'd shown me the clones. Part of me was glad. But I grew frustrated when none of my guards answered my questions. My time was spent undergoing tests with Rakefield, being prodded and poked at. My pregnancy was moving at double the speed of a human one, but I still didn't feel any different. I didn't know much about pregnancy in the normal sense, let alone this kind. And Rakefield was about as informative as a crustacean. She was driving me mad with her new catchphrase, 'We'll just have to wait and see'.

  I spent my 'free' time in Silas's room, keeping away from people as much as possible, deliberating ways I could escape. It wasn't until another day had passed, laying on my bed in the light of the sunny morning, that I started to really panic.

  How long was I going to be kept like this? Until this baby was born? Or until I lost the plot and threw myself off the ship just to escape the daily assessments. It felt like my temperature was taken a hundred times a day. I had to give blood samples, urine samples, saliva samples. Then I'd spend afternoons on the treadmill, or put through circuits in a 90s gym that looked like it had been designed by Mr Motivator.

  I sighed as I laid on my bed. Rakefield had told me I could have a rest today. But there were so many things I'd been trying to avoid thinking about, that a day off suddenly didn't seem like a treat at all.

  I thumbed the tattoo on the inside of my elbow, marking me as IDAHO's property. Silas's property. Was he going to give me any choice in this pregnancy? I didn't even want to be a mother. I wasn't qualified for that in any sense of the word.

  At the sound of the door opening, I sat upright in bed, finding Silas walking toward me with a tray of food, dressed smartly in a shirt and trousers. He placed the food down on the edge of the mattress, wringing his hands together.

  Silence passed between us as I lifted my brows, waiting for him to speak.

  “I'm sorry,” he said at last.

  “For what?” I asked dryly. “Kidnapping me? Shoving a Werewolf heart in my chest? For branding me as your property?” I glared at him. All my rage spilled over at being left for days on end, without so much as an explanation for what was going to happen to me.

  “Firstly, I didn't kidnap you. I wasn't even involved in the raid on The Sanctuary,” he said. “That was my father's plan. I dealt with the experiments.”

  I half-laughed. “As in, you ordered your staff to alter our bodies, mutilate us without our consent?”

  Silas sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “Our methods can be crude, Firefly. But it is all done for the benefit of science, for humanity.”

  I tsked, grimacing as I turned away.

  Silas pushed the tray closer. “I know it's difficult to understand why I do what I do...but IDAHO has achieved great things. We will be able to provide cures to cancer, to disease, help families, children.”

  At the mention of children, my hand curled instinctively around my stomach. “And me? What are you going to do with my child, Silas? It's obvious you want me to have it. But maybe I don't want it, did you ever think about that?”

  “You were pregnant when you got here,” Silas said. “I can't be blamed for your situation.”

  “But you're the one who wants to control it!” I snapped, turning to face him again.

  He shook his head, his eyes suddenly wide. He tentatively reached out to me, then seemed to think better of it. “That's not true. It's your call. You want a termination? I'll have it done.”

  He set his jaw and I couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not. My stomach churned at the idea of an abortion. I remained silent instead of giving an answer.

  Silas moved cautiously closer. “Look, I know I told you that you're our property. But I shouldn't have said that. I just wanted your cooperation. What I should have said is that you and your baby are...subjects here. We want to study you, that's all.” He cleared his throat when I said nothing, prompting an answer.

  I sighed. “I'm still a prisoner.”

  “Trust me, it's much easier if you choose to be a willing member of our projects. My father can be harsh. His rules are strict. But I've seen him release subjects, so long as they cooperate.”

  I bit my tongue, thinking over his words. “How long?”

  “A year, perhaps,” he said quietly.

  A year? Suddenly, I hated Silas's father more than I hated his son.

  My heart fled into top gear. I managed a nod, but I couldn't swallow that possibility. A year on this ship? If I decided to keep the baby, I'd have to give birth here. I couldn't bear it.

  “I came here to apologise, but I see that was foolish now.” Silas ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Still...I'm sorry I lost my temper with you the other day...I should never have taken you to see the Reaper.”

  He moved to leave, looking regretful. “No,” I called out suddenly. “I'm glad you did. But Silas...I'm not sure I'll ever understand why you do it.” I needed Silas close. He held the possibility of me escaping this place. Perhaps he had sway with his father. Perhaps he could reduce the time I had
to spend with IDAHO.

  Silas nodded, dropping his eyes. He looked like a beautiful paradox. His exterior was perfect, but beneath it was a haunted kind of pain I didn't understand. And perhaps I was too scared to try.

  “I shouldn't have kept away from you for so long. Only...this is hard for me, too.”

  I gazed over him, trying to see if he was faking this newfound conscience. “Why?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I'm new to this, you see?” He lifted his gaze to meet mine as he reached the door. “My father left me in charge of the ship whilst he's away.”

  “Where is he?” I asked, wanting to get as much information as I could.

  “At another institute. He'll probably be back in a few days.” He walked from the room before I could ask any more questions, but something stirred in my gut, a niggling fear that I did not want to meet the man who'd made me a prisoner here.

  After I'd eaten, I got dressed, picking out an outfit from the least strange array of clothes I'd been provided with in the wardrobe (a red checkered skirt and a black camisole). Next, I tried the door. My heart lifted as I found it open, stepping into the hallway.

  The cry of seagulls carried to me as I headed onto the deck, breathing in the briny sea air. The sun shone above the horizon, pouring the golden morning light across the waves. I thought of searching for the way off the ship like Kodiak had said, but a commotion caught my ear further along the deck, distracting me.

  I followed the noise, coming across a group of men. One of them was handling a crane and pulley that reached high above their heads, drawing something up the side of the ship. I moved to the railing, keeping my distance so as not to draw attention to myself. I spotted a red shipping container hanging in the harness of ropes, being hauled toward deck. Far down on the waves was a small boat which had evidently brought it here.

  I spotted Silas amongst the men, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he waited.

  As the container rose above deck, swinging precariously, the man operating the crane pulled a lever to lock it in place. He manoeuvred the crate above the men's heads and they stepped back as he lowered it onto the deck. I drifted closer, curiosity getting the better of me as two of Silas's guards used crowbars to jimmy open the front of it.

  The door fell forward with a loud clatter at Silas's feet. A stench hit me so hard, I threw a hand to my mouth. It was fetid and overpowering, making my eyes water. Everyone but Silas took a measured step back, covering their noses, some coughing and spluttering.

  “Shit!” Silas barked, leaning against the side of the container as he gazed inside.

  I tiptoed forward, trying to get a view, catching sight of a pile of bodies slumped at the back of the container.

  I gasped, inadvertently snagging Silas's attention. He turned, his jaw ticking at the sight of me, before facing his men and shouting, “Chuck them overboard. The shipment's been sabotaged.”

  “Who are they?” I whispered, a shudder running through me as I moved to his side. Whoever the six or so people had been, they were now rotted beyond recognition.

  “Vampires,” Silas said quietly. “My father bought them from the Helsings a few weeks back.” He visibly swallowed as he took in my expression.

  “Why?” I demanded. “To be part of your sick experiments?”

  “They were going to be trialled for the cure,” he bit at me. “They would have wanted to be a part of it. Better that than starving to death in the care of the Helsings.”

  I couldn't help but agree, but refused to let him know that. I returned my gaze to the dead Vs, my stomach rolling. Apparently my transformation into a Hybrid had returned my ability to be sick. And I was very close to giving in to that reflex.

  Silas turned to one of his men. “Give me your shirt.”

  The man didn't even hesitate, pulling his black t-shirt over his head and passing it to his boss. I raised my brows but Silas answered my question when he tied it over his nose. I thought of the scars on his body and wondered if that was what had stopped him from using his own shirt.

  Silas stepped into the container and I watched, clinging to the side of it as he crept toward the bodies at the back.

  He crouched down before the dead Vs, examining them.

  After a beat, he stood, turning to me with a grim look in his eyes.

  “What happened to them?” I asked, but he ignored me, moving systematically through the container. He ran his hands across the metal walls, searching for something then paused, releasing a growl of anger. He detached a small black box from between two rivets, moving toward me.

  “It's bloody sabotage,” he muttered, showing it to his men. “I can smell white oak in there. It's usually very subtle, a dose of it would only make a Vampire pass out. But at this level of concentration....Jesus, it's as potent as acid to a V.”

  I realised the choking smell of rot coming from the container wasn't the only thing making me feel ill. Evidently I was still vulnerable to white oak like those Vs. “Who would do this?” I asked.

  Silas shook his head, running a hand into his hair and messing it up. “We've had several attacks in the past few months, but nothing like this...” He took his phone from his pocket, dialing a number and holding it to his ear. “Site B reporting,” he said, heading away from me. “Are your shipments in order?...Good. I want you to check with the other institutes, report back to me in an hour.”

  I drifted after him, partly because I wanted to escape the smell and partly because I wanted to eavesdrop. Before I caught up with him as he wandered up the deck, the world tore apart.

  I was thrown forward as a tremendous BOOM, filled the air. I hit the deck hard, sliding across it and taking Silas out in the process.

  Flames heated my back and I turned, squinting into the roaring fire that now took the place of the container. Fear flared in my chest. Cries of pain ripped through the air. A chunk of the railing had been torn apart and blood coated the jagged edges.

  Silas's hands looped around me, pulling me to my feet and dragging me away from the growing fire. Shock made my legs heavy.

  A bell started ringing somewhere and men darted out of doors, carrying fire extinguishers, running toward the gaping hole in the deck where flames danced and flickered, reaching toward the sky.

  Silas turned me around, pushing me into the arms of an approaching guard. “Take her back to my room. Don't let her out until this is under control.”

  “Silas-” I started to argue, but the guard dragged me away, forcefully guiding me back inside. I gave in, blinking away the dryness of my eyes. The lasting taste of smoke lingered on my tongue.

  Panic fled through my heart as I clutched my stomach. What if something had happened to the baby when I'd hit the deck?

  “I need a doctor,” I demanded.

  The guard gazed over me as if hunting for a sign of injury, clearly not convinced I needed one.

  “Now,” I barked and he sighed, leading me back inside.

  I clutched my stomach, my heart beating a mile a minute. And it was in that second, I realised, I wanted to keep it.

  Jameson

  Jax was laughing, loudly and obnoxiously. “Make him say it again.”

  All I could see were two pairs of boots. Which was probably due to the fact that I was currently upside down, having been doing a handstand for the past twenty five minutes. I was in the cellar, playing puppet games for Lynch. As I'd been doing every day since Ulvic had given him control over me. If there was anyone worse than Ulvic having that power, it was possibly this guy. Potentially barring Hitler and Lord Voldemort.

  “Ask for another one,” Lynch growled, a chuckle rumbling through him. The smell of cigarettes sailed into my nose. The daily comedy show I was forced to act out was not in the least bit fun for me. My pack threatened murder every time Lynch came for me, for all the good it did. But I appreciated it all the same.

  “Can I have another one?” I asked in the most bored voice I could manage. I might have had to do what he said, but I could at least
pretend I didn't give a crap about it.

  Lynch's fist kissed my abs for the hundredth time and I wobbled on my hands before crashing to the floor. My back took the impact and pain lanced up my spine. Peachy.

  Lynch came into view above me, tapping his cigarette so the cherry dropped onto my chest, scolding a hole through my shirt. I forced myself not to flinch as it sizzled against my skin, gazing up at him before calmly brushing the ash away.

  “Say thank you,” he demanded.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, slowly rising to a sitting position. Lynch had already commanded me not to fight back, so I had to take his beating with as much dignity as I could muster. But I was running out of one-liners to piss him off. There were only so many ways I could insult a single moustache. For some reason, he'd let me keep talking. Maybe he felt better about beating my ass if I was ribbing on him. Who knew?

  “Get up,” Lynch commanded and I rose to my feet with a heavy sigh.

  Jax shifted closer, now looking up at me through his too-small eyes.

  Lynch lit up another cigarette with a silver zippo that had a quote engraved on it. I tilted my head to read it. There is no fence to sit on between heaven and hell.

  Jesus. I wonder which side he thinks he's on.

  Lynch puffed on the smoke before jamming the end in my mouth. “Hold this.”

  I let it hang from the corner of my lips, then worked out a loophole in his command, took in a deep drag and blew it harshly in his face.

  Loopholes were what kept me going in times like this. There were always ways to rebel against orders. I just had to get creative.

  As the smoke swirled around Lynch's face, he gave me a dark grin and said, “Eat it.” He smirked then he and Jax had a good chuckle at my expense.

  Forcing a broad smile onto my face, I did as he said, biting down on the butt and chomping my way to the end. I wasn't so lucky in having the cherry fall off before it entered my mouth. I heard the hiss and felt the keen burn as it pressed into my tongue, smiling all the way.

  “Yum.” I grinned, swallowing. Not yum. Not even close to yum. Tasted exactly like eating a lit cigarette. Exactly like that.