12

BYRON

"I'm going to rip your head off. You touched what's mine? Use your fucking arm as a chew toy. You touched what's mine ?"

At this point, I don't even know what I'm saying, but every time my wolf charges forward and rams his head into my chest, trying to get out again, another threat comes out. It's all I can do to keep him back. I've already fucked up by losing control yesterday.

I've been fated before.

I know what the instinct feels like, how it pulls at your soul until you can't think of anything else but your mate. How they become all that matters. The protectiveness, the urge to tear to shreds anything and anyone that dares harm them.

But what I felt in my first fating was nothing compared to what I felt when I saw Maxim's fist connect with Aida's cheek.

I'd watched her body fall back in slow motion, her eyes squeezing shut when her temple hit the table, the pained grunt that parted her lips.

There was no way my wolf was going to stay down, and I'd tried, conjuring a sliver of willpower to stop him, but he'd flung that shit aside like he did the first man that got between him and the one who had hurt his mate.

Maxim stands just out of reach from where I jerk against the restraints of the chair I woke up in.

My entire body hurts from what I'm sure was them using my downed form as a kickball while I wasn't a threat.

The slick smirk on his face only makes my wolf batter harder. "You're not doing shit, little dog. Soon, there's gonna be a big dog in this house, and then we'll see about these threats."

My wolf is clawing now, his teeth bared with the desire to make this boy bleed. I'm vibrating with it.

Maxim's grin only grows. "Bet you wish you hadn't howled and told us you were about to shift, huh? Just couldn't keep that little bitch quiet."

I still, my head canting as the rage erupting through me is slowly replaced by the practiced calm I've mastered over the years. The smile comes back, full watt, dimples and all. "Is that what you thought that was? My wolf coming out?"

His chest caves a bit, as it always does when I hit him with the smile.

"What makes you think that was a precursor to my wolf? How do you know it wasn't a call?"

His lip curls. "To who? The others who are supposedly coming to rescue you?"

I fix my face in a purposeful look of confusion. "Rescue? They're the clean-up crew."

He snorts, his eyes roaming over my restraints. "Yeah, right. You're so fucking tough, but we both know you can't do shit. You would have by now, and we wouldn't have gotten what we need from you. Either way, we'll see anyone who thinks they're coming for you a mile away."

I train my sight on the places in the room where I know they have ears on us. "You think your skimpy little surveillance is an advantage?"

He opens his mouth, and I cut him off.

"If you're going to talk some shit about how your networks are encrypted or secure or whatever the fuck you humans think passes for security, I wouldn't waste my breath. None of this is going to go the way you think."

I expect what comes next. Maxie Boy was probably the kind of kid who threw his cereal bowl through a window if his Lucky Charms didn't have enough marshmallows. So when his fist connects with my face with punishing force, I brace for it, taking the blow even as I feel my nose break.

Blood warms my top lip before spilling into the seam of my lips. I lick it away, grinning a grin tinged red.

Maxim's chest huffs as his blown-out eyes glare me down.

I see he's on a little more than steroids today.

With a baring of clenched teeth, he drives his fists into my sides, connecting with my already aching ribs, but I don't make a sound, not even when he continues to lob blow after blow, not stopping until he's lost power and stumbles back, heaving in deep breaths.

"I'm going to put your head on my wall."

I nod, my eyes widen in mockery. "I'm sure, big boy."

He steps forward, his fist balled again, but then static sounds out in his earpiece, and he stands down.

"That's enough. We might still need him."

With a huff, he turns away and waves a hand at the two guards watching from beside the door.

I can tell by how they recoil at the movement that they fear him.

He's explosive and unpredictable. The hormones and drugs probably don't help.

"Get him prepped to move to sub. Fucking dog," he grumbles as he storms out the door.

The two men approach, their expressions wary. One of them sports a red-stained bandage on his neck, probably from my wolf, and I lift my hands as much as I can to show I'm no threat.

"I'll come quietly—and humanly," I add when they seem unconvinced.

I hit them with the smile, and they relax. One moves around to push my chair while the other stands to the side with his gun ready.

As we head into the halls, my tactic of distracting them so they forget to sedate me has worked. I take in every detail of the building, keeping my head down but darting my eyes everywhere.

I make notes on the layout, which repeats itself, giving me an idea of the overall floor plan.

"So that Maxim's kind of a dick, huh?"

The guy behind me snorts, probably because he hasn't been maimed by me, only to get a look of reproach from his partner.

I smirk but shut up.

There are many ways to infiltrate an operation; sometimes, it's just making yourself seem a bit less dangerous than you actually are.

I'm plenty dangerous, as one of them has seen, but I'm a puppy right now.

The halls are empty except for a couple of guards every few turns. Finally, we get to an elevator, and they wheel me in, pushing the button to go down. I notice that the panel indicates three basement levels and two ground levels.

They hit the lowest level, and we descend slowly, coming to a creaking stop after three minutes, letting me know we're only about half a mile underground.

I clear my throat, listening to how the sound travels and how it comes back to me, and I curse.

No one will be able to hear me down here, but hopefully, after today, it won't matter.

We walk the concrete halls until we get to a lab cut into a box of towering, stark gray walls. Along one side is another cell made of metal bars. The guards lead me to it and slide the door open just enough to roll me halfway inside.

I wonder if they're about to release me because if they are, I'm going to finish the job I started on the one with the bandage and waste no time with his friend.

However, they pause, and I feel a prick in my neck. They inject me with enough sedative to make me fall forward when the cuffs release, and then they shove me out of the chair.

My knees hit the concrete. The chair wheels back, and the bars slide shut before I can shake off the weight of the tranquilizer.

I try to rise to my feet, but my legs give out, my palms meeting the floor to stop my face from hitting it.

Whatever they used this time is different, not just more potent.

They must have been working on it while they had me, seeing what I responded to and what I didn't.

They've been multi-tasking. And they work faster than I expected. It's only been a week, and they've already created a better sedative for my kind.

I have to get out of here.

My mind travels to the dream last night with Aida and how I put her on her hands and knees and fucked her until she was hoarse from screaming into the void.

My dick recalls the tight clench of her pussy as she came over and over.

There's no way she didn't feel it when she woke up, not after I propped her calves on my shoulders and made her cry my name.

My wolf croons at the memories as I struggle to stand.

The weakness in my legs isn't contrived, but I'm not entirely out. Anything stronger than this will probably knock me on my ass for real.

I stay down, breathing heavily and letting them think they've got me. I feint trying to get up and fall, letting my cheek hit the floor and my eyes slowly close.

"Fuck, about time some shit's finally worked. I'll tell Umansky."

"It doesn't matter. He has what he needs. We're just storing him here as backup. Then it's—" I can't see what gesture he makes, but I assume it involves some indication of my death.

The sound of their footsteps retreating is loud, and I realize it's because everything else is so quiet—no soft hum of electronics, no whir of connectivity.

No surveillance.

This should relieve me, but a sense of dread germinates in my belly for the first time, and my wolf whimpers in worry.

If they aren't worried about monitoring me, that can mean anything. If Aida doesn't trust me, the two men who just left may be the last men I will ever see.

The heaviness lifts from my limbs after about ten minutes, and I note the time it takes to feel completely free from it. I lie on the floor for another half hour and then rise to my feet, inhaling deeply and pissed the fuck off.

My anger only flares when, a short time later, I hear the elevator open and footsteps peeling down the walkway. Two of them are the guards who brought me down here. The other two are just as distinct, and I've already memorized them, so I mask my response when Aida and her daughter appear from the hallway.

At least I'm able to mask it until my sight lands on my mate's face in the light. Then my body hits the bars, my hands clenching around them as the guards spring back and train their weapons.

"Get back!" The one with the bandage backs away, his body tense like he expects me to rip the bars apart and come for him.

Aida, however, doesn't move, and her daughter only steps behind her mother, peeking warily around to where I'm foaming against the metal.

"What's going on? Why are we down here?"

"Umansky says this is where you're supposed to go, so this is where you go."

"But, what am I supposed to do down here? Why is he down here?" She waves to me. "What about my daughter?"

"What about her? She can stay here, too. Now get to work. Umansky wants you finished by the end of the week."

"How will we get out of here when I'm done for the day?"

"We'll get you when Umansky thinks you've worked enough."

"Excuse me?" Her head rolls, but her voice wavers.

The guards only smirk and walk away.

She starts to follow but stops when I call out.

"Aida, don't."

The guards' footsteps retreat, and the elevator door closes, leaving us alone.

Aida turns to face me, her expression a mixture of anger and worry.

"Come here." It's not a question, and she starts forward, guiding her daughter to the single chair before meeting me at the bars. I push my hand between them and cradle her face when she's close enough.

Her jaw is an ugly motley of purples, yellows, and greens. A vertical slash swells along her temple. "Does it hurt?"

"You asked me that already. Didn't you?" She watches me carefully as she waits for a response, and I stroke gently over the bruise.

"I don't care. I'm asking you again. Does it?"

She shakes her head before twisting around to peek at her daughter, who's watching us with a narrowed gaze.

I step closer so my face touches the bars, and only she can hear me. "Does it hurt, Aida?"

She swallows, releasing a deep breath, and then her head dips just the slightest. "Yeah. Pretty bad."

I smile, my wolf nuzzling my chest from within, wanting to comfort her. "Oh, how I'm going to relish tearing Maxim apart, baby. No one touches what belongs to me, and you belong to me. You know that now, don't you?"

She nods. "I'm starting to think so."

"Hm." I pull her close enough that I can kiss her jaw between the metal, then slide my mouth close to her ear. "The wobble in your step would suggest we're both clear."

She shakes her head again. "I can't believe that's real."

"The dream?"

She nods and then shakes her head again as if she still can't decide whether to believe it or not.

"It's as real as it gets for me, Aida. How did she like the croissant?"

"She said it was dry, but it looked flaky to me." She goes for a smile, and I chuckle, still soothing her skin with my thumb.

"Yeah, I figured. You can't have a proper croissant without good old-fashioned, from the cow butter.

She hums.

"Did you do what I said?"

All I have right now is the trust I hope she has in me, and my man and my wolf flare with pride when she nods.

"Every two miles—just to be extra sure. Although, I don't know what I'm making sure of."

"You will," I promise before stepping back and looking past to her girl. "Hey, kid."

"Oh, um," Aida looks unsure, and I pin her down with a glare.

"You don't have to worry about me. This is the safest place for her. I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you."

"You're in a cage."

"Doesn't matter."

She looks skeptical, but again, her eyes tell me all I need to know. She's relieved, grateful, even. The second she saw me, her scent went from fear to ease, and it's because she's my mate, and her heart knows I'll protect her even if her reason doesn't.

"Her name's Zora, right?"

Aida nods before turning back to wave her daughter forward. "Hey, Zo. Uh, come say hello to my, um, volunteer."

I snort, but only low enough for her to hear, which brings a rush of blood beneath her brown skin.

Warily, Zora comes forward. She was sweet when we last met, a little precocious, but what teenager isn't? It makes me wonder about the guard saying she hates her mother.

"I thought you said he was dangerous."

Ah.

I hear it the second she speaks.

Not hate, but the edge of scorn. It smells like a grudge or betrayal, and this little girl is holding onto it hard.

"It's fine. Just don't get too close."

I stay still as Zora inches up beside her mother, who steps back a little so they're a few feet away. I give her a chance to look me over. I know I look menacing as hell, but I'm good with kids.

Zora's eyes narrow on me. "You dying or something?"

"Zo!"

I chuckle and prop an elbow between the bars. "Not dying yet. I got too much to live for at the moment." My gaze flickers to her mother, who blushes again. "Just doing my part to advance science."

"My mom says you're going to help cure cancer."

I only just manage to stop my brows from lifting. "Yes, cancer. If I could wipe that terrible disease from this Earth, I would."

She looks away, her scent turning sad. "My dad died of cancer."

Aida opens her mouth to speak, but I shake my head and focus back on the girl who's so clearly holding onto some big ass emotions she has no idea how to handle.

"My wife died, too." I see Aida stiffen, and the girl looks up at me again.

"Of cancer?"

I shake my head. "No. She was a soldier, a fearless woman. She was killed fighting to protect my people. It was hard. I missed her all the time. I bet you miss your dad all the time."

Zora glances at her mother before giving a jerky nod of her head. "Yeah. He was great. He always protected us. He never would have let what happened to us happen—"

"Zo, that's enough. Go finish your homework. You don't want to fall behind while you're out of school." Aida turns her daughter back toward the long table on the other side of the room. Her eyes follow until Zora's pulled a sheath of papers from her backpack and bent her head over them.

When Aida looks back at me, everything about her body is shame. "I wasn't a very great mom for a while."

"Don't say that."

"No, it's true. I messed up a couple of years back. Some stuff happened that was bad for us, and I thought this job would turn things around, but now I'm stuck in an underground dungeon with my kid and a possible criminal who can—" She shakes her head like it will dispel the truth.

"Who can what? Say it."

She shakes her head again. "I can't."

"Say it, Aida. We aren't dancing around this anymore. You know what you saw. Say it."

Her lips press tight, and she meets my gaze. "Fine. It would seem that you can turn into a wolf. Jesus, what the hell am I mixed up in?"

I chuckle. "Shift. It's called shifting. And now it's out of the way. You're not a bad mother."

She snorts. "Well, I feel like I keep fucking up. And every time I think I'm getting it together," she scrubs her hands over her face, and when they come away, her eyes shine with tears.

"Hey, come here." I slap the bars before reaching a hand through to beckon her forward.

She comes, but I can smell the tears falling before I yank her close and do the best I can to hug her through my prison.

"Don't let her see you cry right now, okay," I murmur so only she can hear me. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're doing your best. I'm glad you trusted me enough to do as I asked. Every two miles was good. It'll be fine. I meant what I said. Nothing is going to happen to you or her. You've got me."

She gives a watery chuckle. "You're still in a cage."

"No cage can hold me, Aida. The saline was smart yesterday, but you need to seem like you're falling in line. I don't want them separating us when the time comes."

"Do you think they'll even let me leave here today—or any day?"

"They have to come back for what they need from you, right?"

She sighs, nodding. "Yeah, but you heard them. They're going to keep me here until I'm done, and I'm not helping them. Absolutely not." Defiance fills her gaze before it shifts to fear. "But if they leave us down here. What about Zora—"

"What did I say?" I take her chin, conscious not to touch the bruises already there, and force her to look back at me.

"Nothing is going to happen to her." She sighs my words back.

"Nothing. To you, either. Who do you have on the outside that would notice if you didn't stick to your routine?"

She shakes her head. "No one, really. Particularly, not after—"

"Don't go there. Not right now. There is always someone, Aida. Parents? Neighbors?"

Her hair shifts as she swings her head back and forth. "No. Mine are dead—her father's, too. We stay to ourselves in our neighborhood. I worked a lot, so I didn't have many friends."

Damn. I hate that she thinks she has no one because the truth is, the moment she became mine and I put my scent on her, she gained an entire clan of protection. We just have to stay cool until they get here.

"What about her school? You said she's suspended?"

Aida snorts. "Yeah, they aren't going to care if she never shows up again."

She stares into space, her eyes reflecting the dark hole of thought where she and Zora don't make it out of here today.

"Aida!" I shake her a little. "You have to trust me. You did what I said, so I know you do. And I trust you. Both of you are going to be fine. Just do what they've asked you to do."

"Byron, I'm not helping them. If you can do what you do, and they're trying to extract a hormone from you, they're trying to make money, period. Probably at the expense of sick people. That's not what I do."

So she has figured it out, partly. "They think if they can synthesize the hormone secreted from the gland at the back of my neck, it will give them shifting abilities."

She blinks. "Will it?"

I shrug. "It's doubtful. We aren't humans who can shift. We're shifters. Either way, this isn't the first time men have tried to harness who we are, and it won't be the last. From what I've heard, you're one of a kind at what you do."

I detect a coloring beneath her deep amber skin that hints at embarrassment, but she nods. "I'm the best."

"I believe it, so do your best."

She frowns. "But what if—"

"Don't worry about what ifs. I don't get the impression Umansky is going to be very forgiving if he thinks you're bullshitting him, so don't. Do the work they're asking you to do, but, you know," I hitch a shoulder, "do it slowly while I think of a way for us to get back above ground."