21. The Songbird

Stirring, I”m not sure how much time has passed, but I am still the wild thing. My arms are chained behind my back, seemingly shackled to the same chair I sit on. Blinking slowly, I realize we are in a concrete room. The door to my right is the only entry point. The only source of light is a bare bulb above my head, not even a single window along the walls. I toe a broken tile beneath my feet and see the dinginess of the entire floor. In the center of the room, metal crosses over a hole into darkness, a drain that produces the sweetest blend of blood, sweat, and fear that makes my mouth water.

At least they didn’t fucking gag me.

Finally, taking in the chair across from me, my heart jumps when I see Leland alive and well. He is staring off into nothing, probably trying to think of a plan. We desperately need a plan. The wild thing doesn’t do the whole ‘planning’ thing, and she wants to get her freedom by force. I feel my– our arms tug at the bindings. I try calling out to Leland for his wisdom and comfort, and she is having none of it. Growls escape our throat as we thrash and fight against our bindings.

His eyes fly to mine now that I am moving. Now that we are moving.

Studying me, absorbing the change in my behavior, I see realization blooming in his eyes. He can tell I’m not in control, that I have given in and let the darkest part of me take over.

“Wren.” Leland’s voice is filled with authority, and I watch as our gaze snaps into focus on him. The growling ceases. “Struggling right now is useless, and we’ve been drained. You would do better to conserve your strength.”

I feel our body relax.

“Emerson,” she grumbles in question. I didn’t even know she could speak separately from me. Snarl and roar, sure, but speak? We’ve only communicated in thoughts before, but I suppose I thought I would still maintain control of my speech.

“Yes, it is. Wren, I’m so sorry. I am a stupid old man, and I think it will cost my children everything.” Despair flows through him, so strong I can feel it. Something has gone terribly wrong, and he blames himself for it.

I don’t know his mistake, but I know he would never endanger us willingly.

Other Wren didn’t seem to care much about what had happened. She only cares about what happens next. “I will shred him.”

I try to sense if the sun is still up. It could be. Maybe it is setting. Our eyes wildly search the room for anything useful but quickly become distracted. The drain’s scent is almost overwhelming us.

She is hungry.

Weare hungry.

A low grumble escapes our mouth. She’s annoyed, and I am busy trying to put it all together. Was it a set-up? Had Emerson discovered the mole? Where is the rest of the team?

My heart sinks.

What happened to Rolando?

I don’t want to think about what happened to him. About why he’s not sitting here with Leland. I’m happy that I’m not driving my body right now.

Somewhere nearby, a door opens. Heavy footfalls sound down the hallway, echoing and growing louder as they approach. Emerson comes into view, and my eyes narrow. He attacked me in the middle of nowhere. I had been completely outnumbered and already the weakest link of our coven.

He is a coward.

I can use that to my advantage.

My primal side agrees as she begins to throw ourself against the chains again. The screeches she makes are predatory and animalistic.

He smiles but it is cold and doesn”t reach his eyes. I study his face as his focus moves from us to Leland. Excitement crosses his features when he looks at me and a dark hatred when his attention lands on Leland. I hope to wipe that look off his face.

“My guests,” he says, extending his arms as if to welcome us and ignoring the failing attempts of escape that have overcome my wild side. “I do hope you’re finding your stay comfortable.”

We spit at him, and his attention is ours as he quickly turns his sharp features our way—blue eyes, deep as the ocean, and pale skin that looks like porcelain. Almost angelic-looking, I can see how he draws people in. But I know what he is capable of. He stares into my eyes, trying to dominate me, but I refuse to look away. I can’t tell if he is bothered by it or if he enjoys the challenge.

His hand clashes against the side of my face. I’m not surprised he resorts to using physical force to win the stare-down. Fingers grip my hair near my scalp. The crown of my head burns. What is with men wanting to rip a woman’s hair out to prove themselves? “You didn’t even merge with your primal self? Pathetic.”

“What are you, a child? Hair pulling, really?” her voice is hollow and mocking.

Oh, he loves that.

Hand to our throat, he puts his face inches from ours. “I will break you,” he threatens. “I will dig into your soul and rip it from you. Bring you back into your body, and then, then you will beg me. You will cry for me.” His voice is a low growl in my ear. A spike of fear darts through me, but I feel our lips turn into a twisted grin.

We stare right back at him. “I will hear you beg for mercy before sunup.” She threatens. “I will fall asleep remembering the sound of your pitiful whimpers for years.” As she says the words, I feel it. She is pulling from me, using some of my will to control herself as she controls our body.

“You are nothing.” She says the last part softly, just for him. “Just a stupid, scared little boy who didn’t get enough attention from Daddy.”

He hits us again, and we smirk. Throwing our hair back from our face she laughs. My wild vampire will not back down, and we will die knowing we got under his skin if he kills us.

Leland’s eyes are mocking as he smirks and says, “Wren is amazingly observant, wouldn’t you say, Emerson?”

We watch the man before us stiffen, and he crosses behind our chair where we can’t see him. His rage pours off of his body and it’s easy to tell that he’s unhinged. His mask is slipping. Just knowing that he failed to control us, failed to fill us with nothing but fear. He’s coming undone. We do hear the sharp brush of metal on metal and a high-pitched ringing sound as the vibrations made it sing. When he comes back into view, our body goes cold. A sword in his hands, Leland’s sword. He points the blade at the throat of his creator. “She’ll be less amazing with your head at her feet.”

We jerk in our chains again, willing them to break so we can go for this bastard’s throat. This time I join with my wild side in the effort. I want to shred Emerson alongside her. He rounds on us, looking sickeningly pleased with himself. He wants to get a rise out of us, and we give it to him.

I don’t care. He has no respect for life, no respect for his origins, and it is maddening. “Look who can rattle after all,” he uses one hand to trace the planes of our face. We try to jerk and bite his finger, but he just laughs under his breath. Bringing his lips at our ear, unbothered as we thrash against our bonds, I hear him breathe in our scent. Sounding like he had just inhaled the best dessert, his voice grows husky and fills with desire. “So full of fire,” he whispers, soft lips brushing over our ear.

Disgusting.

Starting at our collarbone, Emerson drags his tongue up our neck and sinks his fangs in just behind our ear.

We gag.

Shuddering from the sensation of him feeding from us, bile rises in our throat. He moans as he draws our blood in deeply. We feel sick. Emerson stops drinking from us and instead, he takes a hand and places it suggestively on my thigh. “Maybe I’ll keep you for a while. Make Oz watch as I carve you up. I’ll chain you to the wall and rip through you, always letting you heal. So I can do it all over again and again while he screams.” Kissing that place behind our ear, he pulls his hands from me.

I still feel sick, but the other Wren is pissed. Oz belongs to us, and we won’t let this scum hurt him. We agree on one thing, that we will die before we allow him to use us against our mate.

“You are weak, Emerson. You fucked up. You fucked up bad. You never should’ve come here. This place will be your tomb. This will be your undo-” The room fills with the ringing sound of a blade slicing through the air at enormous speed, cutting our words short. Our eyes widen in horror as the life is snuffed from our leader.

Leland is gone.

Our body is still. I can feel her reaching out to me, seeking comfort. We are going to work together to get out of here. She needs my reason, and I need her ruthlessness. Together we will make sure we get this fucker. One way or another, he will feel pain at our hand.

Leland’s blank expression unsettles me as his head falls from his shoulders. Emerson doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to, he thinks he won. He may have achieved one of his goals, but I am damn sure going to ruin the rest. With my help, the other Wren whispers to me. Yes. This will take everything we have, but we can do it.