Page 51 of Marked For A Bite
The ladder seemed to descend forever before Logan's boots finally touched solid ground. Ancient stone walls surrounded him, weeping with moisture that had accumulated over centuries. The darkness was absolute except for the faint glow emanating from emergency lighting strips that had been installed much more recently.
This place is ancient. Way older than the medical facility above.
Logan waited until he heard Zoe's soft landing behind him, then moved deeper into the stone corridors with his hunting knife drawn. The passages seemed to stretch endlessly in multiple directions, creating a maze of blind spots that made his tactical mind scream warnings.
Too many variables. Too many places for ambush.
"Stay close," he breathed against Zoe's ear as the rest of their team descended. The warmth of her body against his back was the only comfort in this place that reeked of decades of suffering.
They moved through the labyrinthine tunnels for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. Logan's enhanced hearing picked up strange sounds echoing from deeper within—mechanical humming, occasional moans that might have been human or shifter, and something that sounded disturbingly like medical equipment.
What the hell is this place?
Finally, they reached a heavy wooden door that looked completely out of place among the ancient stone. To Logan's surprise and suspicion, it stood slightly ajar.
No lock. No guards. After everything we've navigated through, they just leave the final barrier open?
Logan pressed his ear to the gap, listening intently. The sounds of machinery were louder here, accompanied by the unmistakable beeping of medical monitors and what sounded like multiple heartbeats—some human, some definitely not.
This is either a trap or they're so arrogant they never believed anyone would make it this far.
He slowly pushed the door open, and what greeted him nearly made his knees buckle despite a decade of witnessing the horrors his enforcer duties had demanded.
Row upon row of holding cells stretched into the darkness, each containing a figure in various states of consciousness. Somewere clearly wolf shifters, others appeared to be hybrids like Zoe, and most disturbingly, several were obviously full humans.
Jesus Christ. This isn't a prison—it's some sick experimentation lab.
Medical equipment hummed throughout the space, connected to IVs and monitoring devices attached to the prisoners. The antiseptic smell couldn't quite mask the underlying scents of fear, pain, and something chemical that made Logan's enhanced senses recoil.
"What is this place?" Zoe's whispered horror echoed his own thoughts as she appeared beside him.
Logan's tactical brain was already calculating how many prisoners they were looking at, escape routes, and the horrible reality that their extraction mission had just become something infinitely more complex.
We came here to rescue one man. Now we're looking at dozens who need saving.
Logan suddenly felt Zoe's surge of protective fury slam through their mate bond. Her heart rate spiked dangerously as she saw the rows of suffering prisoners, and his mind screamed warnings about her emotional state.
She's about to do something impulsive.
He reached for her arm, but she was already moving—sprinting down the rows of cells with desperate urgency that made his blood freeze. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the stone walls like gunshots.
"Zoe, stop," he hissed under his breath, but she was beyond hearing rational commands.
Logan cursed silently and gave chase, his combat boots hitting the ancient stone floor with controlled precision. Every instinct had warned him that this place felt like a trap waiting to spring, and that their easy descent had been orchestrated to funnel them exactly here.
Too quiet. No alarms yet, but that doesn't mean there aren't motion sensors or pressure plates we haven't triggered.
"He's here!" Zoe's broken voice stopped him cold as she pressed her face against the bars of a cell midway down the corridor.
Logan's enhanced vision immediately identified the broken figure slumped against the back wall. The man from Zoe's photograph was barely recognizable—decades of imprisonment had carved deep lines into his face, and whatever experiments they'd conducted had left him gaunt and hollow-eyed. Medical tubing snaked from various points on his body to machines that beeped with mechanical indifference.
My god. Twenty-five years of this hell.
But even weakened, the man's wolf shifter instincts remained sharp. His head lifted and turned to them, confusion flickering across his features before sudden recognition blazed in his blue eyes.
"Zoe?" The voice was barely more than a rasp, damaged by years of disuse or worse. "My baby girl?"
Tears streamed down Zoe's face as she gripped the cell bars. "Dad, it's me. We're getting you out of here."
