22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Daisy

T he car is silent until Turner stops in front of a castle.

“Are you kidding?” I ask, staring out the front window. It’s a small castle, but still a castle. The walls aren’t in the best shape, and there isn’t a mote. “Is he a vampire?”

“No. Why don’t you give me the coin before we go in,” he suggests.

“I don’t think so,” I deny.

His nostrils flare. “Get out of the car,” Turner says, opening his door.

“This is the scene of a horror movie,” I say. I can see it play out in my head. The female character goes on a blind date; it’s going great; she may let him get in her pants. Then he asks if she wants to see his castle, and stupidly, she says yes. That’s when the chasing, torture, and blood starts.

“Daisy, you have to get out of the fucking car,” he snarls. “It will not go well for you if you don't.”

“Going into that castle isn’t going to go well for me,” I protest, and he shrugs. Dick. He’s such a big, horrible dick. “Fine, let’s go into the creepy castle.” I open my door and take my time getting out. I kind of hope Micah isn’t far away. I know I wanted to do this alone, but that was before I was faced with a dark, cold, stone building.

I bet there are cobwebs. I shudder.

“Jesus, where did all the bravery go,” Turner sneers. Gone.

“Fuck off. Anyone would pause.” I march forward with determination, relying on my acting skills, plus I stole the car keys. If all else fails, I’m running my ass back to the car.

I follow Turner to the door, and the creak as he opens it sends a shiver down my spine. He steps to the side, motioning with his hand. I peer into the dark interior and pause with my foot lifted. I really don’t want to cross the threshold, but he moves to push on my back, and I hustle inside. He would have felt the metal hanging through my belt.

The slam of the door shutting is ominous, and I force my body not to react.

“This way,” he says.

I reluctantly follow him through the dark. Looking around, I try to get an idea of the layout, but it’s too dark in the entryway and he moves too quickly for my eyes to adjust to my coyote’s. It's so dark that when we enter another room, I have to squint my eyes since the room is lit brightly.

“Holy crap,” I whisper. The room is what I would think a drawing room would be years ago. Antique chairs with red upholstery, thick velvet curtains, and a long, uncomfortable-looking couch fill the room. A large fireplace is lit and has two chairs in front of it.

“Sit,” Turner orders. “He’ll be here soon.”

I don’t push him and sit on one of the chairs. “You said my brother is here.”

“Be patient,” he scolds as he sits on the couch.

“I’ve been patient, asshole.” I glare at him. “I want to see my brother.”

“You are a pain in my ass.”

“I’ve heard that for years; it doesn’t have any effect.” I keep my eyes glued on the doorway for someone or something to walk through. “I’m sick of waiting for men to decide when and what to tell me. What did you do with my brother?”

“Liam was weak.”“What is your idea of weak?” I ask, turning toward him. “Because he didn’t want to follow your path in life?”

“He couldn’t handle anything.” He sits back, crossing his arms. “So I sent him here to get stronger.”

“What did you do to him?” I grip the arms of the chair, my claws ripping the cushion, restraining myself from tearing out his throat.

“I didn’t do anything,” he denies, glancing at my fingers. I see a spark of fear in his expression. “Carter did.”

“Who the fuck is Carter?” I demand.

“I knew you would be fierce.” A voice floats from the darkness. A body steps into the light. He’s wearing a suit. Great, he thinks he’s some kind of elegant thug. “You don’t recognize me,” he states. I study his face, and something seems familiar.

“No.” I don’t remember seeing him, but I can’t ignore the tiny spark of recognition. It would be helpful if I remembered the first seven years of life. He has dark blonde hair and blue eyes. His scent tells me he is a coyote. “How do you know me?”

He sits gracefully across from my chair. “You were quite young, so you may not recall. I am family.”

“You aren’t my family,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“But I am. I should be offended you don’t remember your favorite uncle,” he says, waiting for my reaction.

“Uncle.” My heart thuds in my ears, but I show none of my trepidation. This man will take advantage of every weakness. “Well, uncle, why did we wait so long for a reunion?” I casually cross my legs, but my claws still grip the arm rests.

He throws back his head, laughing. “Turner, I told you she was special. Your updates didn’t do her justice.”

“Sure,” Turner mutters.

“That’s me. Special. Updates?” I glance at Turner and then back to Carter. “Will you tell me what the fuck is going on, Uncle?” I growl.

“Are you ready to know the truth?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Once again, a man is stalling in telling the truth. Would I fucking be here in this damp castle in the middle of fucking nowhere if I didn’t want answers?” I pry my nails out of the chair, press my palms together, and leave my claws out.

“Of course. It must have been frustrating to be raised by Turner. He isn’t the best choice, but he was the only one at the time.” He smiles sympathetically, and I want to gouge his eyes out.

“Why was I given to him? What happened to my parents?” I ask.

“I will have to start at the beginning.” He crosses his legs and steeples his hands. “You are aware of the reputation of coyotes, yes?”

“I am a coyote living in this world,” I sass, and his eye twitches.

“Right,” he smiles grimly. “We are considered the lowest form of shifter, besides a rabbit.” There is a random thud in another room he pays no attention to. He has other people working for him. “Growing up, your father and I had to live with prejudice. I got so sick of being undervalued. Our parents paid no attention, even though they saw how differently we were treated. I was much stronger than your dad. My specialty was scams,” he says with pride. “I could cheat anyone out of money.”

“What was his name?” I whisper. My skin crawls the more he speaks, but he is the only one who is willing to talk.

“Cooper.” He drops his head back. “He was too soft to be a coyote. He wanted to believe the world was kind, and he would shrug off the hate.”

“Sounds like a good quality,” I say, and his head pops up.

“I like your fire, but be careful,” he seethes. “Cooper met your mom and claimed to be in love. How can you fall in love at first sight? They thought love was the only important thing. The stupid bond pushed them together, and they didn’t fight it. He did everything with her and left me behind. I began to plan once they had you. I couldn’t believe they wanted to bring a coyote child into this judgmental world. Did they not see what they were perpetuating? I needed to make a change, something to even the scales.”

“My mom?” I lean forward. I know he’s a bad guy, but I’ve lived years without any knowledge of them.

He sighs as if I’m annoying him by wanting to know. “Iris. She was lovely. I didn’t understand her love for my brother; she was devoted immediately. They lived in a little bubble of ignorance of what our species could be. I wanted to take back our power.”

I’m afraid to ask. “How?”

“By testing their minds.” He smiles, crossing his arms as if the statement was a revelation. “And their blood.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He huffs, leaning forward, holding his hand out. “What if coyotes were injected with other shifters’ blood?”

“Injected?”

“Think about a lion shifter. Is he powerful because he is a lion, or does his breeding suggest he will be powerful, and so it’s taken for granted that he is? Is the power in his blood?”

“Fuck,” I whisper, rolling my eyes.

“Coyotes are born knowing their breed is considered lower, so is that why we stay where we are supposed to be?”

“No. Coyotes have a reputation because we steal, lie, and are general assholes.”

“Does that mean there are no asshole lions?”

“Of course not; there are plenty of assholes,” I say through gritted teeth. “Can we get to the point? You are making no sense. Did you use your theory on Turner's sister?” I can see the poor girl's face in my mind.

“She was weak, too. Coyotes need to be strong to show the rest what we are made of.”

“What happened to her?” I ask. Turner must know, but I’m not asking for him. I need to know what I’m dealing with.

His smile seems off. “It’s difficult to keep shifters healthy, yet weak enough to not fight back,” he whispers. “It’s a delicate balance. She reacted badly to her transfusion.” Turner growls low but doesn’t say anything.

“What kind of transfusion? What did you put in the blood?”

“After you were born, I worked in a lab,” he says, picking at his pants casually. “I took some experimental drugs they supplied. What if I took the blood from a lion and injected it into a coyote? Or blood from a vampire? Would that change their power?”

“You have other kinds of shifters? Vampires?” His operation is larger than I thought.

“Yes. I was worried mixing the blood would cause the two species to bond, but fortunately, it didn’t.”

“Of course not. They are not mates, and you are using a needle to swap blood,” I say. “What did it do?” The bond is special. The bite is personal. Vampires have to pass their venom through the bite.

“The blood contains power. It takes time to build up power.”

“So you are saying it was a failure,” I say.

“No, no,” he denies. “It did enhance their strength, just for a limited time.”

“What about me? You didn’t give me blood.”

“I did not. I did feel bad about taking his sister so I sent you to live with Turner. Even at a young age, I could see the fire inside you. You didn’t need anyone's blood to be strong.”

I blink. And blink again. “Let me see if I get this.” I motion with my hand. “You forced me to live with him, because you felt bad you took his sister. You believed I didn’t need another shifter’s blood to enhance my skills. Is that what I’m understanding?”

“Yes.” He claps his hands.

I look from him to Turner and back again. “You're nuts.”

“There are sociology experiments that prove my theory,” he growls.

“Of course there are,” I shout. “Anyone, shifter, vampire, human, who is put in extreme situations or grows up in a certain environment has a more likely prevalence to show those tendencies. The way you grow up shapes who you are. It depends on the individual and their desire to grow beyond that.”

“Yes, but there are loopholes,” he says, shaking his finger.

“Holy shit,” I snarl. “Why are we discussing this? I came here to see my brother.”

“Right, your brother,” he sighs. “I had high hopes for his development with Turner and the pack. He was a disappointment, so I decided to test him in a different way.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I took away the love he depended on. Your love made him weak.”

“Motherfucker, love doesn’t make you weak,” I sneer.

“Of course it does. You didn’t have love in your formative years, and here you are, walking into a strange house with no backup in the middle of nowhere. You are brave. He is not.”

“Where is he?” I push to the edge of my seat.

“I paid Turner for your brother. He was supposed to use it for your essentials,” he says, sniffing.

“Excuse me. He didn’t give me shit.”

“Shame.” He brushes his palm down his thigh. My anger means nothing to him. “Did you know there are humans who will pay for supernatural blood?” he asks lightly.

“No,” I whisper. The number one rule is to never reveal our world to humans.

“It is quite lucrative. All the power is in the blood. It won’t change humans without the bond but it will enhance their senses and give them a big rush,” he laughs.

“Humans buy blood?” I ask, disgusted.

“Of course. Their money supports all my experiments, but I need more.”

“Did you sell my brother's blood?” I ask, sick.

“Some.”

“Whose blood did you put in him?”

“He stopped asking for you years ago,” he says, and the breath leaves my lungs. “It took a while, but I finally broke his mind. I took away his home, his parents, and his sister, and he cried for months. He slowly lost every human emotion. The isolation made him see the power he could have had.” He lets out a breath. “The blood didn’t affect him as I hoped.”

“Let me see him,” I demand.

“Let me see the coin,” he counters.

“Turner already asked. I refused.”

“I would advise you not to refuse,” he threatens. “I need the coin.”

“Don’t you mean we need the coin?” Turner says with narrowed eyes.

“Of course, of course,” Carter says, holding his arms out. “We are on the same team.” Doesn’t feel like they are.

“Why do you want a silly coin?” I ask, well aware the coin is worth millions. Sometimes, you can get to the truth when you pretend to be clueless.

“Sentimental value,” he says.

“If it’s a family heirloom, I deserve half of it,” I grin, and his laugh is disbelieving.

“You are family. You're hungry for the prize.” People see what they want to see. He’s judging me just as others judge our animals. “How about we cut you in?”

“How much?”

“Don’t be greedy,” he scolds.

“What do you need money for?” I ask, looking around the room. “If you sell blood, you must have plenty. I assume you make as much as a drug dealer.” Probably more.

“Listen,” he snaps, leaning forward. “The money could set us up for life. My work takes a lot of financing.”

“To buy drugs to mix in the blood?”

“Among other things.” He tilts his head. “You could join us.”

“Join you in torture? Holding shifters against their will? Selling blood to humans who don’t deserve to know of our world?” I growl.

“You don’t understand the scope of my work,” he grits out.

“I guess I don’t. I think you are full of shit.” He points at me and then balls his hand into a fist, his jaw ticking.

“Where is it?” he demands again.

“Close.” He looks down at my body.

“In your pocket?” He exchanges a loaded look with Turner.

“If either of you touch me,” I start, my coyote showing herself through my eyes. “I’ll gut you while I chop off his cock.” I perch my elbows on my knees, my hands hanging between my legs. “Where is my brother? I won’t give you anything until I see him.”

“I don’t think you want to see his condition.”

I lunge forward, my knee between his legs, holding my claws to his neck. “You are fucking crazy. I don’t give a shit what experiments you dreamed up in your head; life isn’t an experiment. Liam isn’t your plaything. Growing up in the pack house could have broken my spirit, luckily, you were right. As you can see, I have all the qualities you wanted the blood to do.” My head snaps to the side, seeing Turner stand. “Fucker, make one move, and I’ll kill him. If I die, I have a friend who will laugh as she slices off your precious dick.” He stops, and I give my attention back to the demented man. “What did you do with my parents?”

“Your dad didn’t agree with my methods; he had to go,” he says with no fear. He should be more afraid of my claws drawing blood.

He killed him. “My mother?” I ask, hoping she got away.

“She took some convincing,” he smirks. “She agreed to stay with me as long as I promised to let your brother live with you at the pack house.” I push into his neck. “If you kill me, Turner will text the men guarding your brother, regardless of your threat to his dick.”

“Take me to him,” I command.

He looks down his nose. “You’ll have to move.” I inch back, hating I can’t kill him yet.

I move to the side so I can see them both. “Let’s go.” I hold my hands loosely at my sides. Turner moves stiffly behind his boss. I bet he hates having me at his back. I have to follow, though, and hopefully, my mate will be here soon. Micah can pull his memories out by force. This time, I don’t care if he kills them.

The halls they lead me down smell like mold. Nerves flutter in my stomach the further we walk in the dark, winding downward. My legs are in pain, and it takes all my muscles to keep upright. Carter seems almost eager to show me his torture rooms, a pep in his step, glancing back several times, smiling.

I feel something brush against my ankle, and I swallow the vomit, wanting to spew on Turner. I desperately want to see my brother again and hug him, but if he has lost himself, will he want to see me? Will he recognize me? Is he too far gone after being tortured in this place? Is he afraid every day? Or is he resolved in his prison?

We come to a set of stairs, and as we descend, I see the door at the bottom. I move to Turner’s side, and he looks at me suspiciously. Carter reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys to unlock it. The metal grinds as it swings open, and I stumble into Carter.

“Careful, dear,” he says.

“Sorry, I slipped.”

“Welcome to my dungeon.” He waves his hand, and I walk past him, knowing he could lock me away. I grind to a halt. “Have your reunion. I will ask for the coin again soon. We’ll come back when you're acclimated.”

I barely hear the door shut and lock.

There isn’t a guard watching my brother.

All I see is chains. Chains attached to the walls, holding a dozen shifters and vampires.

My vision dims when I hear them rattle.