Page 49 of Dawn of the Pack

I was too stunned to speak at first, but now anger floods my body and spurs me to action. Springing to my feet, I force them apart, a hand on each of their chests. “You two need to cut this shit out right now.” I turn to look at Jared first, who’s glaring up at me with dark, angry eyes. “Milo’s right; you’ve always had it in for Derrek, and it’s probably because you sensed a connection from them before you even knew better. We don’t own her, do you realize that? Just because we’re her fated doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any others, and making her feel like shit because of it is a real dick move.”

Turning the other way, I stare down at Milo, who’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. “And you, don’t be too proud of yourself. You’re right, but that doesn’t mean you’re the only one who’s right. Jared has a point that keeping secrets will only drive a wedge between us, just like it’s doing right now.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “I know you were keeping the secret until Lily was ready to tell us, but I’m willing to bet you didn’t exactly encourage her to fill us in, either. You don’t get to play Switzerland here, Milo. We’re a family, just like Jared said. We have to work together or we’re going to tear ourselves apart.”

Drawing in a deep sigh, I remove my hands from my brothers. They’re no longer pressing against me, and their expressions are more ashamed than angry. “I’m going to get Lily out of here while you two sort your shit out. When we get back, we’re going to have a conversation about how we can best achieve the goals she has for our pack.”

Without another glance at the two of them, I cross the sitting area to offer Lily my hand, and she stands, shakily, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes.

Even a blind man could see she’s so drained she can barely keep her feet under her.

“Come on, baby,” I murmur, crouching to scoop her gently into my arms.

“I’m taking you home.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Derrek

“Hold on there, Jessup.” Nielsen’s voice is bored, as if my continued torture is just not entertaining him any more.

Jessup steps back, breathing heavily, and lowers the club to his side.

Once again I’m crouched in the corner, panting, with my arms around my head for protection. After easing my arms down, I turn my head painfully, straightening my neck, and spit a bloody glob onto the concrete floor. There’s already a fair amount of crimson dotting it; today they opted to go for a more basic form of torture, testing the idea that the direct physical contact from someone would spur my wolf to the surface. My entire upper body is battered, dark purple blotches already spreading on my ribs. I’m nowhere near a mirror, but judging from the way it’s throbbing, I can only assume my head is just as bad, if not worse. Hot liquid trickles down the sides of my face, but I can’t tell if it’s blood or sweat. Or, most likely, a combination of both.

Nielsen decided to be sporting today, and have a couple of his thugs start out hitting me with fists. He even let me take a few swings, hoping that allowing me to fight back might do something for my wolf. When it didn’t, they went back to the tried-and-true method of using inanimate objects designed for causing pain.

They keep saying they have a very specific, very successful program, and yet I haven’t seen anything to convince me they aren’t just winging it.

It was satisfying to land a couple of hits on Jessup, the sadistic asshole. But all it earned me was some split knuckles and an eventual yank on the leash that sent me sprawling across the floor.

One of my eyes has swollen shut, so I squint the other toward what has become my most hated voice in the world. Nielsen’s standing outside the cage, examining me like a specimen in a lab. Which, I suppose, to him I am.

“What do you say, Jessup? Do you think he’s done for the day, or should we push him a bit more?”

My one good eye darts to Jessup, anxiety spiking with absolute certainty he’ll want to continue.

But even Jessup looks rough. He’s still panting heavily, his t-shirt damp with sweat and dotted with blood. He’s sporting a swiftly developing black eye, with blood still running from his eyebrow where it split on my knuckle. His dark eyes glimmer with malice, although I’m not sure what reason he could possibly hate me for. It’s not as if I did this to myself.

“Eh, fuck him,” Jessup spits in disgust. “We don’t want to beat him so badly he’s not recovered by tomorrow. As it is, his ribs may not be fully healed. I say we stop and let him heal up for Level Five in the morning.”

Nielsen chuckles. “Already Level Five, huh? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that my son has my cool head and stubborn streak. It took weeks for my father to break me and draw out my wolf. Alright, let’s wrap it up. Fetch the hose.”

My body had relaxed when he said they were going to wrap it up, but it tenses again immediately. The hose wasn’t the worse they’ve done to me by a long shot, but it took me hours to warm up afterward. The shower only has room temperature water and the room itself is always cold. I’m not looking forward to hours of shivering to combat hypothermia.

The older man opens the cage from the outside, allowing Jessup to exit with the club before closing it again. He drops it below the ‘tool box’ and pulls the hose from a mount on the wall, turning the knob on the top.

When the hose stiffens with water, he walks back to the cage, dragging the coils behind him.

I crouch lower, tucking my head and waiting for the icy blast to hit my battered skin.

“Well, look at that, I think he’s learning,” Jessup drawls, chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’re not getting sprayed tonight. This is for you to clean up your mess.”

I risk peeking over my arm, and realize he’s passing the spray nozzle through the cage.

“Now before you get any smart ideas,” Nielsen warns, “if you decide to get clever and turn that water on us, you’ll be spending the night in that cage just as you are, naked and soaked. So I’d suggest you do as you’re told and that’s it.”

The thought of blasting them with the freezing water had crossed my mind, but I’d already concluded it would do me no good. Obediently, I ease myself to a standing position and shuffle to the metal barrier, grabbing the sprayer and pulling it with me.

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