I honestly cannot stand that guy, and if I could turn, God, he would be first on my hit list to air-punch across the room.
I have enough rage bubbling through my veins to ignite it, but unfortunately, no actual ability in this weird futuristic building.
All I need is a tiny bit to link Colton, tell him where his mom is, and bust everyoneâs ass in here. I have enough rage that I think I could, maybe.
I wish Iâd been bright enough to find and use that gift when they chased me through the damn forest. I only have myself to blame for not being able to harness my given talent.
As soon as I watch him storm off into the elevator and completely disappear, I turn my attention back to the room across the floor from me and focus on that lifeless, sleeping body.
Sheâs twenty feet away at least, maybe more, but these glass walls, although thick, donât keep the sound out.
The low beep, beep, and swish of her life support machine are humming and repeating subtly in the air now that the asshole has gone, and the place is almost silent once more.
I lean forward until my palms touch the glass, only this time softly, and press my forehead to it so I can steady my still, pretty weak self and stare at the figureâs side profile laid out over there.
Iâm instantly enveloped in a feeling of hopelessness as I watch her lifeless form. Sheâs been down here like this for God knows how many years.
I canât believe Juan would do this to his mate. Itâs like he just put her aside and forgot about her, and the only reason sheâs still alive is that their link would kill him if he let her die.
So, this is what he doesâbreaking the bond and rules of being mated. Heâs not protecting her or caring for her in sickness and health.
He isnât allowing the pack to nurture their luna the way theyâre supposed to. Heâs ashamed and hiding her in a place no one knows about.
Thereâs no dignity in what theyâve done to her, and the doc slipped up and made it clear thereâs nothing wrong with her mind.
Juan obviously has other reasons for keeping her down here if madness is not it, and I will her to give me some sign that she knows Iâm here.
âHey! Luna Sierra, can you hear me?â I yell as loud as I can, hurting my throat in the process with scratchy rawness.
It doesnât elicit any response, not even a change in heart rate on one of her many machines. I observe, and listen to the sounds, but thereâs nothing.
âCan you hear me?â I try again, not as loud, but my throat aches with the effort, and I cough dryly, quickly giving up on that method.
I sigh, sliding down the glass and desperately watching her.
Iâm trying to figure out how someone in an induced coma, inside a building that blocks gifts could somehow reach out to me and guide me to her with the weird dreams and urges to come east.
It doesnât make sense now that I see her and know she canât call to me. She doesnât seem like she can do much of anything except breathe independently as she doesnât have a ventilator.
She didnât urge me here. Thereâs simply no way in hell it could have been her. Sheâs all but a vegetable down here.
The only answer I can think of is maybe the Fates did this instead, and it wasnât her at all, but I guess Iâm not about to find out.
If I thought she had answers, itâs pretty clear she wonât be giving me them, and this is a dead end.
The Fates delivered me back to Juan for absolutely nothing. And when he gets here, knowing I found this place and saw her like this, he isnât going to let me get anywhere near Colton ever again.
Everything in here is bolted down, probably because they donât want prisoners throwing things at the window, and I am not about to kill myself by hurtling my body through it to see if it breaks.
I hate being stuck in human form and completely powerless to even get out of this dumb glass.
Without being able to turn, I would probably bleed to death and be that unlucky girl who brought down a shard over my neck or something and still be stuck hereâa shriveled, empty corpse to stink the place up.
That jerk didnât even let me eat, as he said, and my stomach growls at the lack of food since God knows when.
I donât even know what time it is, morning or night, or how long I was sedated in that room, considering there are no windows underground.
I last ate the day before sleeping in that damn tree, where all my possessions are, and Iâm starving. Itâs no wonder I feel weak and shaky. Iâm running on empty.
Itâs weird, but maybe itâs my years of being bossed around, held captive in a less-than-caring home, and treated like a reject at the hands of my so-called pack, but Iâm not even afraid anymore.
Being here held captive, I know that the worst will come with Juan, but even then, whatâs he going to do to me?
He canât kill me or inflict too much pain because his son will bear the brunt, and lord knows his legacy is always at the center of everything.
I guess he could do what heâs done to Sierra, but itâs not like she seems aware of anything, and maybe that wouldnât be a bad thing.
Iâd no longer be tied to Colton, carrying this burden of heartache while he lives his life with that âskanky puta.â Maybe a long sleep would be better than being stuck in a glass box for a lifetime.
I abandon the glass and walk across the cold concrete floor on shaking legs.
I need to lie down and finally get rid of the rest of this drug in my blood, so I can at least walk around normally and not feel like Iâm on newborn legs.
Maybe Iâll feel better if I take some time to let it work out and sleep off the rest.
My body is shaking internally, and I keep having minor bouts of dizziness that remind me Iâm in no state to take on the likes of Deacon if I ever get a chance.
Before I leave this place, my first goal is to knee him in the balls for shooting me in the back like a coward.
I donât get to the bed before the noise of the elevator whooshing open sways this way, and I stiffen instantly, expecting Deacon to come back and grace me with his toxic personality.
I mentally try to figure out the likelihood of being able to kick him between the legs for the sake of it.
I climb on the bed, turn around, and sit with my legs dangling off the edge in readiness to give him more attitude and lure him inside to my perfect level of height.
I hear footsteps and the squeaking of wheels rolling across the hard floor coming my way.
Itâs not Deacon. Itâs the doc and a female in a white lab coat.
I frown as he appears in front of the glass door, pulling the food cart and carrying a bag in his other hand while she pushes another behind him.
He waves at me before accessing the door and slides it open with a smile.
âMy dear, we never fed you, and I couldnât let you go hungry down here in this bleak nightmare of a place.
âI brought you some clothes. Theyâre nothing fancy, just the smallest size I could find from the supply closet and a fetching shade of military gray.â
He pushes the trolley inside, the sudden smell of food filling the air, and my mouth waters with the reminder Iâm near famished.
He drops the bag just inside the door but hesitates about coming in, and I sit here waiting patiently.
His female companion stays back, arranging some medical implements on a tray on top of her trolley, and avoids looking my way completely.
Sheâs young, maybe early twenties, and seems a very small-town white girl, medical student, and human. Blonde and blue-eyed, so definitely not a Santo.
âThank you.â Itâs a genuine response because this gown is not exactly great at hiding things or offering comfort, and maybe eating will help straighten me out a little.
In human form, Iâm suffering from the effects of not eating and probably have low blood sugar to boot.
The female seems interested in me but keeps her distance, and itâs easy to tell that my kind makes her nervous. She pushes the trolley near to him, then turns and walks away without a word.
âItâs nothing too adventurous, just a chicken salad and bread. The cook is normally quite wonderful with our hot food, but you were an in-between-meals visitor.
âIt wonât be long before lunch is served, and itâll be something hot as always. I believe today is carrot and coriander soup, followed by delightful steak tartare.
âWeâve a fabulous, talented chef, and we are most grateful to have one here.â
Despite his overly friendly chatter and enthusiasm over food, he seems awkward now that we are down here, and I catch him glancing over his shoulder at our sleeping beauty.
Then he watches our departed medical student walk into her room and check on the equipment and levels.
The door quickly closes behind her, dampening the noise to a low hum that intensified when she opened it. I catch the doc pause for a second longer before a slight sag gives away a little tell.
âYou knew her?â I ask brazenly, seeing a sadness as he turns back to me, and a fake smile pops up to hide his obvious reaction.
His expression clouds over a little, and despite my senses not being in form, I can almost taste the change in his mood.
He looks at me oddly, eyes narrowing, and itâs as though he goes to say something, then stops and falters.
His mouth opens with no sound before he draws back, looks around once more, and leans in a little, lowering his tone, only too aware of the female across the way.
âShe was my friend. This was her project long before the warâthe hybrid research. The learning about the rare wolves no one talks about. I never imagined she would end up being one of its inhabitants.â
His face reddens, and he shakes his head as though he canât quite believe he told me this, mentally shaking himself.
But I wonât let an opportunity pass me by, and I have to show he can trust me.
âHe just left her here to rot. Juan, I mean⦠because she got sick?â I ask innocently, fully aware that upstairs he said there was nothing wrong with her mind, but I need to draw him into this gently.
I need to win him over slowly.
âSick? Hah! If that is the sickness to which you refer. Her mate has no interest in my research, but we serve a purpose that he needs to fulfillâkeeping her alive and quiet.
âSo, he pays the facilityâs bills, funds my grants, and leaves us to do whatever we want as long as she exists here, and we donât ask questions.â
His low, hushed voice signals that maybe he doesnât entirely trust either the female across the way or there are cameras down here.
I sit up a little, pushing my hands under the edges of my legs, and change tactics. I need a common ground to show him Iâm not about to run to Juan.