Page 6 of Racing the Storm

Halfway through drying my cheeks, I felt vibrations on the ground. Footsteps, I realized. I had just enough time to sit up and back away from the wall before the door swung open, and I shielded my eyes as rough hands dragged me to my knees.

I wasn’t exactly sure what was coming next, but when the sting of a needle hit my neck again, I realized I wasn’t surprised.

They kept me mostly unconscious for so long, I’d lost the ability to tell how much time had passed. It was throwing off my wolf—not just the loss of the outside world, but the ability to call him forward and shift. My reality remained that dark room, the meals I choked down while I was awake, and the fear that gripped me every time the door opened.

My assumptions about Kasher—if this really was Kasher—had been wrong. I was so sure he needed me, but I had no idea why I was alive or what they were using me for. My body ached all the time, and I was starting to think I would die this way. I was filthy, half-starved, and starting to feel desperate.

And then something changed. Most of the chemicals had left my system by the time I heard footsteps coming down the hall, but when I braced myself, there were no hands. I remained crouched in the far corner of the room that smelled a bit like old piss, and I waited.

But nothing happened.

My eyes slowly began to adjust to the light, and I saw a couple of men standing in front of me with their arms crossed. They smelled like humans—like blood and sweat and chemicals. They most likely had a gun trained on me filled with the cocktail of shit that would keep me docile and from being able to shift.

I could only hope it was an Omega who tore their throats out one day.

“What do you want?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from disuse.

One of the men stepped forward, then smirked when I flinched away. He didn’t hesitate though, as he dragged me to my feet. “Time to have dinner with the boss.”

It almost sounded civilized—if I hadn’t been covered in my own filth after being trapped in some prison for the gods only knew how long. But I had no strength to fight as the two men marched me down the hall, then into a too-bright bathroom. There were no mirrors or anything that could be used as a weapon, but there was a shower, and I almost let out a sob when my gaze fell on a bottle of soap.

I didn’t bother to wait for their instructions as I stepped up to the handle and turned on the spray. It was cold at first, but even that was heaven as I stood under it and opened my mouth, gulping it down in greedy swallows.

I felt a bit like myself as the heat began to rise, and soon enough the room was filled with steam as rivers of filth washed off my skin in gray foam. I watched it swirl down the drain, and part of me wondered if whoever had me wanted to break me down just a little bit more.

Maybe that’s what it was about.

Maybe they wanted me to feel like there was some hope before stealing it all away.

Maybe that was how they reduced Wolves down to feral beasts.

I wasn’t going to let it happen to me. Whatever they had in store, I was going to fight. I finished washing, then took a few more mouthfuls of water before stepping out to find a towel and a pile of clean clothes waiting for me on the edge of the sink. I was slightly surprised to find shoes as well—in exactly my size—and my nerves began to spike.

All the same, it was something. It allowed me to reconnect to myself as I slipped into the trousers and buttoned my shirt up. With straight shoulders and far less tremble in my fingers, I pushed the doors open to find the same guards waiting for me. They gave me a single, appraising look before exchanging a nod, then they turned on their heel and headed down the hall.

It was obvious I was meant to follow, and it was the first time I was able to get a good look at my surroundings. It was a house—old, mostly brick from what I could tell. It didn’t feel like someone actually lived here, so I figured it was some sort of holding place for Wolves like me. Or maybe worse.

It didn’t smell like the labs, but I refused to trust most of my senses at the moment. I had been mostly unconscious for too long, and I was entirely off kilter.

Taking a breath, I slowed as the guards did, then one of them reached out and turned the knob on a large, heavy wooden door. My nerves began to rise again as I stepped through, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.

The guard had said dinner—but I wasn’t expecting this. A long table was set up with a spread of food that made my stomach growl. I hated myself for it, but I’d been given so little over my capture, I couldn’t stop myself.

I managed to keep my composure though, as my gaze settled on a frail man sitting at the head of the table, and he gestured to the seat on his right. “Dr. Bereket.” The voice had a slight wobbling rasp showing his age. “It’s good of you to join us.”

“As though I had a choice?” I asked as I sat. I didn’t recognize the man standing there. He was in a suit that might have fit him once, but he was gaunt now—likely dying. My ability to scent was off, either from the injury or from the drugs leaving my system. But I didn’t need my senses to tell me this man’s time on earth was short.

“We can do this…”

“The easy way or the hard way?” I finished for him. “Why don’t you tell me what the hell you want.”

He laughed, the sound half-choked, and he took a long sip of his wine before making a gesture like I should do the same.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I wanted to eat and drink. I wanted to pacify him until I could spot a weakness and then run. Instead, I looked at him, my hands at my sides, fingers relaxed.

“There’s no point in fighting your hunger. I would have done this a bit more…civilized, but unfortunately I’ve found I can’t trust dogs like you.”

The insult was meant to sting, but I’d heard it too often from humans to be surprised or to care. Taking a breath, I lifted the glass to my nose and sniffed it, sensing nothing but the grapes the drink had come from, and the dirt where they’d grown. It was almost hot on the back of my tongue, and it warmed me to my core.

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