âYouâre not a very good liar. You have about fifty tells, and the only part of that which was true was that you stumbled across us. The rest was bullshit.
âLook, we just need to know who else is with you and who you linked and told about this place before we took you down.â
âWhat does it matter, for fuckâs sake? No one, okay. Iâm alone, and this bullshit is getting old. Untie me if youâre all so fucking nice and friendly, as it might make a goddamn difference to this conversation!
âIf you want me to talk, get me off this goddamn, uncomfortable, infernal fucking bed you have me strung out on like Iâm awaiting dissection!â I lose my cool.
My temper snaps with sheer frustration at him, riled in a way only Colton could ever make me.
I blame the fact that he somewhat resembles him and has that same pigheaded, stubborn-ass manner that made me crazily hate the Santosâthat know-it-all, bullshit mind game and ordering me around.
âHow alone?â He completely ignores my femme tantrum. Deacon steps closer, pressing his hands to either side of my head on the bed, and it dips as he leans into me.
Bringing his face close enough, he locks on me, eye to eye, and blocks out most of the light over my head, casting his face in shadow.
It has the effect I guess he was going for, in that I lose all fight, recoiling back inside myself, wholly affected and a little fearful.
I lift my chin not to show it, backing down subtly but not without a bit of fight.
âLike all the way alone. My pack isnât with me, but I canât be sure they arenât far behind.â Itâs not a lie, as I donât know if any of my pack has ever caught any trail and followed me.
I doubt it, as they would have caught up by now, but Iâm not going to say I know for sure they havenât.
I just donât know, and it seems to be a believable statement as he leans up and pushes himself away from me after minorly scrutinizing my face at close quarters.
âNo one with you? No mind-linking?â he repeats sternly, and I shake my head as stupid as I am for admitting it. Deacon seems satisfied Iâm not lying and turns back to his submissive oddball.
âYou can untie her, Doc. She can eat, but she stays confined here until we decide what we should do with her.
âI still want a name and pack. I need to know what kind of threat she, or they, pose. Iâll be back soon. I need to contact Alpha Santo and get directions concerning our intruder. Heâll want to be informed.â
My heart stops beating in my chest, and I have to stop myself from gasping out loud at the words that come out of his mouth.
My insides self-combust, and the blood freezes in my veins as my mind comes to a complete standstill on those two little terrifying words.
Alpha Santo! Juan? There is no other Santo pack in these parts, and his resemblance isnât coincidental. Why Colton kept coming to mind is now glaringly obvious.
This is Juanâs facility, which can only mean one thing: Deacon is a Santo. It explains the assholeâs lousy attitude and shitty behavior.
And possibly Sierra is not an invading dream because Colton told me about her before I left him.
Sheâs been calling me somehow, from these four walls, and led me right to her. Thereâs no other explanation for how this all ties up like this. The Fates wouldnât just let this casually happen.
I donât understand why or even how she managed to do it from inside an isolation tank, but thereâs no other logic for this kind of crazy coincidence.
This is a Santo building, a facility, so many miles and days away from the mountain but close enough for Juan to have his reach.
I doubt he has many facilities in our lands, and I didnât just come upon this by chance.
I wonder how much of this the Fates orchestrated, and I donât mean from the second I turned east. I mean, all of it and how I was led here from the day of my turning.
Iâm so screwed, though. Once Juan knows Iâm here, it will be game over.
He might actually send me to the same fate as Sierra, wherever she is, and leave me to rot in here with her for the next ten years.
Itâll be the answer to the dilemma of my pairing with his son. Keep me locked up, and keep Colton safe. Itâs not like anyone will miss me if I disappear for a decade.
The doctor moves over me as soon as Deacon leaves us alone, his face apologetic, with a softness to his gray eyes that I overlooked before.
He has kindness in the wrinkles and lines around his eyes and mouth, which suggest he genuinely smiles a lot in his life.
With a worried glance at my face and a smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes, he whispers in a shaky voice, revealing his fears.
âPlease, donât react when I remove these. I donât want to sedate you again, and I donât know if Iâve got the strength to match you, even in human form. I swear, I mean you no harm.
âLetâs keep this civil. You play nice. We play nice. It doesnât have to be hostile.â He doesnât trust me, and even though I have no gifts here, heâs wary of me.
Heâs human for sure, and he knows what we are capable of, which means heâs probably witnessed it to be this kind of afraid.
I find it weird they even have a mortal here, but I guess the wolf world has a shortage of crazy doctors to keep Juanâs mate hidden with.
Packs are family, and itâs rare to find sub-packs that keep secrets from the rest, especially among one as big as the Santos. I guess humans are easier to keep quiet.
I nod and relax my body, showing him Iâll behave, and he seems to pick up on it, his smile strengthening and his face softening.
I can almost taste the tension seeping out as he leans in to undo the first buckle.
He makes fast and light work of releasing me from the bed and jumps back cautiously when he unties the last ankle strap, eyeing me from a distance as I slowly sit up and regain my bearings.
It takes a minute, and my head swims as I level up, aware I have only this gown on to cover my modesty, and it falls forward off my shoulders as I move, indicating itâs not even tied at the back.
They must have thrown it on before restraining me, and I reach back to pull it together again.
âJust let me go. Iâm not interested in this place or your work. I have plans of my own and a route. Iâll happily get back to that,â I point out, trying to sound sincere.
But the older manâs eyes narrow, and he frowns at me, shaking his head apologetically.
âOh, my dear, Iâm afraid Iâm not the one who makes those kinds of decisions, or I would show you to the door with a wave and a sandwich.â
âThe problem is, we canât let you go without being sure all of that is true. No oneâs come up here in ten years without an invitation, yet you are not just a regular silly trekker or lost hikerâbut a wolf.
âA solitary femme, which is quite unusual in itself, given pack hierarchy and the female role in your world, but a rare white form, at that. Remarkable.
âIâm afraid itâs all a little too suspicious given the circumstances.â
His voice is hushed, as I guess he doesnât want Deacon or whoever watches the camera to hear, and the genuine serious concern etched in his eyes shines out.
He has a trusting quality about him thatâs tingling my sixth sense and telling me heâs not one of the bad guys.
âWhat circumstances would that be?â I match his expression, a little churning of suspicion of my own as I take in his manner and how he seems to deflate a little, his posture sagging as he turns toward the wall.
He stops at the food trolley and pushes it toward me with a fake smile.
âWeâve been testing such unusual DNA for years, and a rare specimen falls right in my lap. Itâs almost like the Fates ordained it, or maybe a little spy came to gather intel for a rival pack?
âMy work until now has been a secret and protected, but you found us. An elusive, rare white.â
He raises his brows suspiciously, and I fiercely glare at him as his tiny accusation filters through and offends me on a deep level.
âIâm no spy, and I have no idea what youâre talking about. Iâm white because, much like my mother, I lack pigment. Itâs not rare because itâs special. Itâs a flaw!
âDiluted bloodline or some nonsense and not desirable at all,â I say, my inferiority issues piqued and taking the form of rage.
Itâs an angry outburst with a basis in old wounds and heartache, and I croak with a raw, harsh tone in my voice, biting back a surprising tear as it comes out.
âIn my world, Iâm an outcast because Iâm inferior, so screw your theory. No one cares about that kind of intel, least of all me.â
Like I said something ridiculous, he laughs, his wide eyes startled.
His expression completely unnerves me and throws me off.