Page 4 of The Beast's Baby
She had calmed. She wasn’t trying to free herself anymore, but her breathing was heavy with rage, and she knew her face showed it. She wanted to summon her wolf, shift, and tear their faces off. Especially his expressionless one.
“I don’t need to be sedated,” she gritted out.
Because her wolf wouldn’t come.
Her wolf was fast asleep.
And she was completely stuck.
She wanted to tell him she hated him. She wanted to tell all of them. Wanted them to know exactly what she thought of what they were doing, that their so-called trial was a sham. She clenched her teeth as the hands were removed from her body, their loosening hold and the removal of their weight making her feel as though she was a balloon about to sail up to the ceiling.
She didn’t say anything.
She watched as Jay—if that really was his name—got off the stool and rose to his feet. He was as nicely built as the rest of them. It wasn’t as though she was blind to it. She had wondered more than once what type of chest was hiding underneath those monotone colors. He was broad but even though he didn’t look built sometimes looks could be deceiving. Was he hairy or hairless? And suddenly a thought occurred to her.
Who did he take those clothes off for and could she make him take them off for her?
If she could seduce him, then maybe she could find a way out of there.
She would have to convince him to switch off the cameras first. And she would have to find some way of not actually drinking her tea. And then she would summon her wolf, take him out, and escape.
It was as good a plan as any.
She smiled at him as he began to tug on the cart, heading out of the room.
She wasn’t sure if the smile was mostly her, or mostly wolf.
Chapter 2 - Jay
Yesterday had been close to a disaster. Yesterday the subject had spoken to him, and he’d felt compelled to reply. There was no protocol for what he was supposed to do if spoken to, so he’d made the decision in the moment. He’d gotten a proper scolding from his boss—whose name was Cora but who looked like her name should come with a warning tag that said Do Not Mess With—who had instructed him not to speak to any of the subjects. He had suspected this unwritten rule, but somehow he'd figured—since it was unwritten—that it would be okay to break it should the circumstances call for it. When his boss then learned one of the orderlies had let his name slip, she had nearly fired him on the spot.
The subject learning his name was the same as outside contamination, she had told him. The subjects were supposed to form no bonds within the facility. This was the prerequisite for Phase Two of the trial.
As if he needed reminding.
Of course, he knew.
Phase Two was pivotal. Nothing must compromise Phase Two.
So, today, as he pulled the cart with his medical equipment with him—exaggerated for effect since all he really needed was a Petrie dish and three needles—he prepared himself to ignore the subject if she addressed him again.
The trial was all that mattered.
The trial would change the world. It would save billions of lives. He was part of reshaping the future, making history. He would be remembered, and his name would be carved into statues and monuments along with his team fellows. Not that it was all about that, but he had known since he was young that he wished to leave a legacy behind. Knowing that he had taken part in eradicating disease, well, that was a legacy to put your name to.
Nothing must compromise what they were working toward.
Especially not some wayward subject who couldn’t be clued in due to the secrecy they were all operating under.
All subjects would know by the end of the trial, once Phase Four was underway, exactly what they had contributed to the new world they were shaping.
He smiled at the thought.
The subject screaming in his face that he couldn’t do this would regret her words, he was certain of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel compassion for her plight—because he did—but he couldn’t let that compassion mess with his head.
They had their very logical reasons for shutting the subjects in separate chambers and monitoring them closely during Phase One.
It wasn’t as though the subjects had been plucked from the street and locked up—they’d been willing. And they would be paid accordingly once the trial was completed.
