Page 7 of Unchained

Brooks paced a circle in his cell.

Why?

He bunched his hair in his fingers. Her first day? Maybe. Maybe she’d been shocked as shit to witness his condition. He brought his palm to the bandages at his stomach. She’d cleaned him and fixed his wounds. None of the nurses had offered to clean him before. But he’d also only seen flashes of them, whenever he woke up before they administered the sedative.

Sick fucks. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d see the doctor today, which meant he’d get punished for trying to escape the night before last.

This time he’d get the upper hand. Even if it meant taking his own life, he’d have to try. The thought of killing the doctor filled his fantasies and his dreams. The only time he felt alive anymore was when he dreamed of his revenge.

The blonde woman’s face filled his mind’s eye. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, accentuating her smooth cheekbones. Pretty. Soft. He picked up on an entirely different frequency when she was around. Almost as if she cared or some shit.

Fuck.

If she was really new and didn’t know about Leonetti’s work, he’d scared her into next month. She wouldn’t come back. She’d probably fucking quit and then a robotic, twisted person would take her place. If she had any conscience, she’d go to the cops or at least report the lab, but the team would hide everything. They were damn good at covering their tracks.

No one would believe the horrors. No one wanted to fucking believe it.

Knuckles rapped on the door. “Thirty-six. The doctor will see you now.” The taunting voice of Eddie, Dr. Leonetti’s assistant, reached his ears.

Apprehension made his muscles scream. His feet rooted in protest, but he stomped out all the fear that threatened to rob him of his control. He was done being a victim. Today, he was getting out of this lab and killing everyone in his path. Starting with Eddie and Dr. Leonetti.

He smiled. “C’mon in, Ed.”

CHAPTER 3

Light streamed in through a crack in Camryn’s cheap supposed-to-be-blackout curtains. She glanced at the clock beside her bed and tugged the blanket over her head. It was 2:30 p.m. In a few hours she’d have to be up and ready to leave for work.

The events of the previous night washed over her, and a wave of disbelief followed. Was it possible she’d dreamed everything? No. Because the nightmares of her shift had kept her awake until almost 10:00 a.m. But maybe she’d been spooked and hadn’t assessed things clearly. Brooks—thirty-six—why did they call the patients by their numbers and not their names? Another red flag. But his wounds had been explained by Kate. He’d tried to escape and injured himself, likely on the fence, and if he’d killed three guards, then clearly the staff would have needed to be aggressive when taking him down.

That was almost logical.

The restraints, although unsettling, weren’t new to her.

His reaction when he’d woken was also plausible for someone in his condition. Of course he’d want to run from a place that he believed was turning him into a monster.

She’d return to work with a clear head and go from there.

Buzz, buzz, buzz

She flipped back the corner of the blanket and cracked open an eyelid. Only the hospital and one other person had her new phone number. She reached over and answered. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her mom’s voice was as smooth and sweet as maple syrup. “Were you still sleeping?” A note of surprise raised the last word.

Camryn tucked the covers under her chin. “No. I just woke up, though. I had trouble falling asleep this morning. Night shift has me all turned around.”

“Oh, yes, it will do that to you. When I worked nights at the gas station, I put on twenty pounds. Totally screws with your metabolism.”

“Ugh. Don’t tell me that,” Camryn said with a chuckle.

“Well, you could afford to gain a few pounds. Especially after what happened with Isaac.”

The amusement fell away from her lips. She fisted her hand around the sheet. God, she didn’t want to think about Isaac. Her mom always tried to shield her from pain, and if she sensed Camryn didn’t want to talk about Stacey’s son, she wouldn’t.

“I’m okay. Timber’s Terrain is . . . nice.” Words burned her tongue, and she forced them out. “He hasn’t found you, has he?”

“Oh Lordy, no. Heck, if he did, I’d be impressed. Unfortunately, he’s probably robbing a liquor store to get money for his next hit.”

Despair made Camryn sink deeper into the mattress. Where had they gone wrong? Isaac had always struggled. As a child, he’d been angry and difficult to connect with. Now, at twenty-five, he was high or drunk all the time. The worst of it was that he went to great lengths to get whatever money he could: selling Camryn’s mother’s TV, her Royal Doulton collection . . . anything he could get his hands on. When Linda changed the locks and refused to allow him inside her apartment, shit had gotten ugly.

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