Chapter 20

Spencer

I emerge from the darkness.

Pain.

So much pain. In my leg, in my arm, spearing through my jaw, thumping in my head.

I can't breathe. I can't think.

It hurts. Hurts so much.

The darkness envelops me.

The darkness fades.I don't know how much time has passed. The pain hits me again.

Hard and violent.

The darkness races up to meet me again. Promising me sanctuary, escape.

Its tentacles wrap around me, pulling me into the abyss.

This time I resist, pulling against it, even though my body screams with the pain.

I force my eyes open. Only one obeys. Light hitting my pupil like a dagger through the eye. I wince and despite the overwhelming urge to shut it again, strain it open.

I try to lift my right arm but it refuses.

I try the left, first feeling how my other hangs at a grotesque angle from my shoulder, then the way the left side of my face is a puffy, wet mess.

With effort, that has nausea stinging my throat, I peer down my body. I'm naked, covered in blood, my leg twisted and broken.

My vision swoops and this time I can't fight the darkness as it yanks me back down.

There's a voice,permeating my sanctuary of darkness. I pull myself back to consciousness, to the here and now.

The voice is louder now, but it takes everything I have to deduce the words.

"Stand up, mutt. They want to talk to you."

I drag my working eye open. A blurry face leers above me.

"I said, get up."

Something hard collides with my ribs and adds to the pain.

More darkness.

But it fades much quicker now. Someone is shouting at me, pulling me to my feet, the pain so vivid I can no longer escape it.

I feel for the beast inside me. But he's silent. I can't find him. Is he out cold too?

What the hell happened?

"Spencer Moreau?"

My good eyelid flutters. I strain to see.

A hand slaps me around the face. My eye pulls into focus.

It's a soldier holding me up. One dressed in the republic's uniform. A man I don't recognize. He's not the man shouting.

I swivel my eyeball, even that movement sending pain spiraling through my head. My gaze is hazy, perhaps untrustworthy, because I swear the man standing next to him is Tristan's father, Christopher Kennedy.

"For goodness' sake," he tuts, "give him some pain relief or we'll never get any straight answers out of him."

"And his injuries, Sir," the soldier says, peering at me with clear disgust. "Should we heal those?"

"He's a mutt. A curseded. Leave him as he is."

"F-f-f-f-fuck you," I stutter, my lips bruised, my tongue heavy.

The soldier scowls at me, draws back his hand and I'm plunged straight down into the abyss.

Next timeI emerge from the gloom, I'm alone again and the pain isn't intense. It's still there, hovering in the background, but it isn't as bad. I can breathe. I can think.

The swelling on my face must have subsided slightly because I can open my wounded eye a little.

The room I find myself in is dark and dank, no windows to the outside world, the walls stone and damp, the air freezing cold. A dungeon, I'm guessing, or a cellar. Am I still at the academy, down in the basement of the ruined mansion? Or am I somewhere else entirely?

I shift my head, even though it has pain shooting down my neck. There's one heavy door on the far side of the room. Shut. There's no one else here. The soldier and Christopher Kennedy – was that really him? – gone.

I assess the damage to my body. The rest of me is just as busted up as it was. A broken leg. A dislocated arm. Fuck knows what to my face.

I search for my magic, determining if there's any chance I could fix this damage. But I'm low, the tank almost empty, barely enough to light a bulb. I also find metal cuffs wrapped around my wrists, my arms chained to the cold wall I'm slumped against, and as I swallow I realize, there's another metal cuff, around my neck.

A collar.

The beast stirs angrily inside me. He's awake now too. I consider shifting our forms. He'd have the strength to bust through these chains, I'm sure. But even as I think it, I sense he's as weak, as bruised and battered as I am. He was the one that endured this beating after all.

I pull feebly on the chain with my good arm. It's not only my magic that's weak. I am too.

Why the hell am I here? Who the hell has chained me to this wall? And what the hell do they want?

I try to think of some way out, some way to escape. I doubt very much that remaining here is going to end well for me. But my head aches and it's hard to assemble the thoughts in my mind; any glimmer of an idea quickly flickering away, my efforts to grab it and make it stay too slow.

I close my eyes. I'm so damn tired and though the pain is weaker, it still has my stomach turning and my jaw tight.

What's the point in remaining awake? There's nothing I can do but wait. Wait for them to return.

It's the sound of heavy boots that wakes me next, followed by the drawing back of heavy locks and the creaking open of the door. A soldier peers through the gap, then swivels his head to talk to the person behind him.

"He's awake."

"Be careful then. He's fucking strong."

"And chained to the wall," the soldier in the doorway says. He swings the door back and they both walk through. The second man lingers by the far wall as if he doesn't trust these chains to keep me bound. I doubt they would usually, but in my current state he has nothing to worry about.

I glare at the two men as the first one stares down at me with a vicious grin.

"On whose orders are you keeping me here?" I snarl.

"The Lord Protector's."

I frown. My head smarting with the effort to think. Lord Protector? Who the hell is that?

"If my mother knew–"

"Your mother?" The first soldier chuckles. "You mean the mutt's whore?"

I smart at the insult, tugging on the chains that bind me, even though I have no strength to give this man a beating.

"She's dead, little pup. Along with your mutt of a father."

"D-d-dead?" I stutter, the word sticking in my throat. My mom. My dad. Dead? That can't be true. This fucker is bullshitting. Trying to provoke me.

"You're lying," I growl.

"I'm afraid not," another voice says, before Christopher Kennedy steps into my cell. His voice is calm yet sinister, and the cold look in his eyes, the calm expression on his face, makes me shudder. "I sent a group of agents to arrest them both and unfortunately they chose to resist. Most unfortunate. They were killed in the resulting struggle. You have my sympathies."

He looks anything but sympathetic. In fact, he looks freaking elated, and what feeble magic I have sizzles on my fingertips.

"On what grounds were they arrested?"

Christopher Kennedy steps closer until he's looking straight down his crooked nose at me.

For a moment, I wonder how he and Tristan could ever be related. His father's face is always twisted with displeasure. His features sharp and hard. His eyes cold, his demeanor colder still.

"It seems we've had enemies hidden among us. Traitors working with the dark forces in the West. Traitors who helped them launch that attack – an attack we only just averted by the skin of our teeth."

"My parents are not traitors."

"Were," Christopher Kennedy corrects. "And they were. All werebeasts are traitors – abominations to our kind. The chancellor was a fool to ever let you live among us." He sneers at me. "I am no such fool. I will not allow it."

"What the f–"

"You'll be remaining here, Moreau, locked up where you can not harm our people, where you cannot consort with our enemies."

"Remain? You can't do this."

"I can," he says. "I'm in charge now."

"But Tristan – he'll tell you – I'm no enemy, no spy, no danger."

"No danger?" he scoffs. "You attacked seven of my men who were simply trying to detain you."

"They attacked me," I growl.

"But I also hear you attacked a pupil at the academy. A poor defenseless girl."

"I … I …" My gaze drops to the floor in shame.

"See, you are a danger. Probably even to yourself. Here is where you belong and here is where you will stay. Be thankful you haven't met the same demise as your traitorous parents."

Shame mixes with the pain and bile rises in my throat. Is he right? Is this where I belong, locked away where I can't hurt anyone?

"Why did you attack Rhianna Blackwaters, Moreau?"

"Wh-what?" The bile sinks down my throat, and I look back up at his face. Calculating now.

"Pig girl – I hear that's what you students call the girl." I flinch. "You attacked her several weeks ago. What provoked you?"

"It wasn't me," I say feebly, "it was the beast." The beast bristles inside me as if outraged at my betrayal.

"This is the pathetic excuse the chancellor gullibly swallowed for all these years. You're one and the same – both dirty, deranged mutts," he spits. "Why the Blackwaters girl? You were at the academy for three years and she was the only one you ever exposed your true nature to."

"I can't pretend to understand the mind of the beast. We are not the same. We are different."

"Nonsense!" Christopher Kennedy shouts, making the two soldiers in the cell jolt. "There must have been a reason. What is it about this girl? What is special about her?"

"She isn't special. She's a nobody from–"

Christopher Kennedy scoffs. "I've heard that before and I don't believe it. Tell me the reason."

I glare up at him and don't say a word.

He examines my stubborn face. Does he believe me? I doubt it. He must know his nephew is bonded to her. Does he know about her other mates too? About the professor? About his son?

"If you refuse to tell me, Moreau, then we'll have to find a way to loosen your tongue." He nods to the first soldier, who steps forward cracking his knuckles.

He grins at me, his stupid face flashing with malice.

Then he draws back his fist like he did before and hits me square on the chin. My head flies back with the force of the blow and I feel the bone crack, see stars dart across my vision. The pain splinters through my skull, igniting all that pain from before.

I take a deep inhale, then rock my head forward. I spit blood out onto the floor and glare up at the soldier rubbing his bruised knuckles.

"You get a kick out of beating a bound man?" I ask him. "You want to unchain me and make this a fair fight?"

"I get a kick out of beating a monster like you," he spits and then he hits me again. And again. And again.