Chapter 58: Where Am I?: Part 2

The Awakening SeriesWords: 10622

“Passing through. I don’t know what this place is and have no interest in it,” I point out blankly, not willing to elaborate, but only get a strange “hmm” noise in return as he nods at me.

“I see. The minor issue with that is you were very clearly caught snooping around on our surveillance and checking Tyron’s truck out before high-tailing it into the forest—~oops~.

“I believe you, but they don’t, which is rather disastrous. May I add, though… wow, just wow. I’ve never seen, literally ever, in flesh and bone, an actual full and pure white-furred wolf.

“It truly was a remarkable sight, not to side-track the main point and negate the seriousness of your current position, but I just had to put that out there.”

He raises his palms in a quirky little jazz hand movement that perfectly matches the happy, wide-eyed, lifted-brow thing he does. The dude is strange.

Who the hell is this guy, and did he swallow a thesaurus in his formative years? He sure takes the long way to say anything, and it throws you off.

I honestly can’t tell if this is a tactic to disarm me and pull information or if he really is a conversation-starved oddball and tends to offload. Maybe he’s just weird.

He has the whole odd outfit thing down to a T for being a weird one.

I’m also shocked to be told my fur is now entirely white. Although I’ve had hints and suspicion it was turning that way, he just solidified the fact for me.

It’s not like I’ve had a mirror or the ability to take my head off and use it to look at my whole body when turned.

I have no idea why my turning white is happening, and I wonder if my mother experienced the same thing—a flaw, just like everyone said it was, maybe some kind of disease that spreads.

“I thought he might have food,” I add, eyes darting around the room past him as I return to the land of reality and start looking for something useful to help me get out of these straps.

I try to muster up the willpower to turn again, but nothing happens. Something is seriously screwing with my abilities, and this individual doesn’t seem like an imminent threat.

Unless talking you to death is possible. My nerves quickly dissipate in his presence.

“Oh, so you’re hungry. How thoughtless of us. Well, we can do something about that, can’t we? No need for us to be rude and unfriendly.

“It makes perfect sense that you would be drawn to a concrete building searching for supplies in the center of this green utopia if you were out here lost.

“I just would like to know your name for a start, and possibly where you originated from, and maybe, if you have any more friends lurking out there. A pack, a mate.

“Someone who might not be very discreet about the whereabouts of our sensitive location. I know it’s a bothersome formality, but they won’t let me feed or untie you without it.”

I ignore him completely, too occupied with the why of the fact I can’t seem to muster any kind of ability. Even my strength is only that of a regular human.

It’s frustrating, as I can now move my toes and feet and rotate and wriggle them to test the strength of the straps. The power and speed I usually possess, even in human form, are absent.

“What have you done to me? Why can’t I turn?” I snap at him aggressively, my temper rising as it sinks in, but it isn’t helpful in terms of ability.

I hit him with a pointed look under lowered brows, and his happy little face drops to an almost impressed “ooh” look.

“Ah, well caught. You’re an observant one, aren’t you?

“This facility is a life-sized isolation tank, so your kind can’t use any unwanted force or abilities on my staff when we require your presence or have guests such as yourself.

“It’s remarkable that they can make a building completely capable of dissolving any supernatural ability, isn’t it? I don’t have the engineering science, but I can assure you it is quite ingenious.”

He talks way too much. He also gets way too excited over the most minor things, and I eye-roll and shake my head at him, trying to draw him back to the intel that I need.

“Once again… Where am I?” I’m losing my cool quickly, annoyed at being held down, and I wriggle manically to attempt to escape this crazy one, not giving a crap he’s standing right there.

The noise of the door beeping and clicking behind him snaps my attention back to it and the dark uniformed figure that comes stalking in as he pushes a trolley to one side with what seems to be a food tray.

“Pipe down, princess. You know where you are because you hauled ass up to our door and tried to take a look. The question he asked… Are there more of you out there?”

It’s a commanding, deep, almost growl-like tone from a serious-looking man with a foreboding glare.

That feeling of intimidation returns as he makes my braveness pipe down, and I resume my still and calm manner, staring directly at him.

He’s a scary one and most definitely a wolf. Not that my sense of smell is working, either.

He’s tall, broad, physically hunky, and good-looking in that bland, typical, dominant wolf way, and unnervingly very Santo. This in itself is weird.

He’s Latino in accent, dark, tanned, handsome, and I swear he almost has Colton’s deep chocolate eyes, although his have hints of green that lighten them overall, and it somehow kills the whole smoldering look.

He has an arrogant look and a slight downturn to his mouth—whereas Colton’s turns up—which gives him an air of aggressive superiority.

Even when being a pompous ass, Colton always has a smiley quality to his face. Pretty boy… cute… dimples… God, I miss him.

“Guess you’ll find out soon enough,” I remark bitchily, unwilling to give them any information until I know what will happen to me.

So far, it seems that tests, experiments, and pulling my insides out are unlikely. I’m probably more in danger of being “fan girled” by the white-coated dude with a severe leg hump for my whiteness.

If they know I’m alone and have no one tracking me, they might think nothing of disposing of me.

He said this was a top-secret facility, and I’m guessing making promises not to tell doesn’t hold a lot of weight with these types.

I shouldn’t tell them anything and pray they believe I’m a no-one and let me go on my merry way.

“Not the sensible response, sweetheart. Name… Pack name. Don’t get smart. The quicker we know who you are, the faster you ~might~ get out of here.” He eyes me viciously, not friendly at all.

I snort at that, half laughing sardonically, and roll my eyes, noting how much emphasis he put on the word “might.”

“Sure, I will. I mean, it’s totally normal to be an asshole, drug people, and tie them up, right?”

Now is probably not a good time to realize I’d developed a bad attitude and sass while living in the wilderness, but something about him riles me up.

I’m guessing the Santo look and that hint of an accent reminds me of so many smug dickheads I grew up around, and his tone is getting on my last nerve.

I’m sick of being pushed around by these alpha-type wolves and their damn superiority complexes.

“Deacon here is our head of security, and you must excuse his abrupt manner.

“He’s just very concerned that the delicate nature of our work might be compromised if some random yet very pretty rebel wolves should happen to disrupt our facility.

“We have sensitive materials that require the utmost protection. I beg you to understand our predicament and disregard my friend’s hostility in such an unfortunate matter.”

He’s flapping, looking flustered, and trying to give an air of friendliness.

“Doc… too much intel for a bratty girl who’s giving nothing in return. How about you go polish a stethoscope over in the corner and leave this to me,” he snaps.

The poor little doctor reddens in the cheeks at the verbal telling-off. His eyes drop to the floor in submission, and it’s no surprise to see which one rules this roost.

Deacon is not much older than me physically, yet he acts like he could totally be one of Juan’s arrogant, nasty bloodline with a massive chip on his shoulder.

He looks like the type to love pistol-whipping people and probably gets off on the power trip. He was probably stationed here against his will and takes it out on everyone around him.

“Maybe, if I weren’t chained to a bed, I would be more inclined to talk,” I point out sarcastically, raising one brow to drive the point home and showing none of the fear that’s still simmering in my belly.

I guess being out there alone for weeks on end gave me a sense of fierceness and confidence I never knew I could ever get back, and this time it’s Deacon who eye-rolls.

“She has a point. It’s not very polite of us, especially when she cannot do any physical damage within these walls.”

The doctor seems to be a soft touch, and the dark glare Deacon spins and throws at him makes him pipe down immediately.

He almost turns crimson from the neck up and shuffles back, slightly away from the big brute at his side.

“She gets loose when we get some answers!” He digs his heels in, turning back to me with an unamused frown that signals he’s exerting his dominance.

I sigh heavily, knowing I’ve no choice but to give them something if I want the use of my limbs at least.

It’s not great being interrogated by two men standing over me while I’m set out like a sacrifice to the gods.

Mentally, it makes me feel at a considerable disadvantage, and being free would make this less intimidating.

“Fine! Carmen! My pack comes from the east, and I’m taking a little trekking holiday from them after a fight with my mom and stupidly stumbled across your little building.

“I was curious, that’s all,” I lie convincingly and stare straight at Mr. Security long and hard to drive the point home.

My stomach is trembling, my nerves getting the better of me, and I can’t tell if the waves of cold are the aftereffects of the drug or my anxiety piquing.

I’ve no idea why I chose her name. I mean, I do blame her for a huge portion of how I got here. But, I guess on some level, if I get free, I want her name to be the one they put on the “shoot on sight if seen” list.

“Carmen? Hmm… Nope,” he replies and crosses his arms across a muscular chest, trying to appear in the know, but it only serves to irritate me further.

“Umm, why nope? Carmen is my goddamn name. I’m sorry it doesn’t meet your expectations. Freak,” I huff, wriggle aggressively, and exhale heavily when I make no headway in loosening anything.