Page 12 of Sergi
The female’s interest piqued, and she glanced at the clock before typing furiously into her tablet.
Then a long, piercing scream came from the shifter. His head fell back against the cage, and his whole body shook as the flush that had dissipated returned. Blood leaked from his nose. His spasms increased. It seemed as if the shrieking went on forever. I leaned over to check the clock. It was nine forty-five. Fifteen minutes since his injection. The shifter’s entire body was red, as if his blood was trying to escape through his skin.
Liquid ran down his leg, and it took me a moment to realize he’d urinated, unable to control his body. For a moment, I thought I saw a change in the structure of his forehead. Had his nails grown longer? One moment he was beginning to shift, then his facial features returned to normal. Did they want him to shift or prevent him from shifting? What the hell was this experiment supposed to test?
I wanted to cover my ears to block out his tormented cries. The air was thick with his fear, resignation, and the worst—his desire to die.
I dropped my head and stared at the floor. I didn’t want to see what happened next. Not when I’d already seen the end result.
While I couldn’t look, I had to listen. I had to stand witness to this horror show. My wolf howled with its own pain. She wanted out, and it required every bit of control to keep her in. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I struggled to stay human.
A hand gripped my arm. I didn’t have to look, couldn’t look, had to remain focused, but I knew it was S-272 attempting to calm me. To keep my wolf locked down.
When the shifter howled, S-272 squeezed my arm so hard I thought he’d break bone. My focus turned to him. He was strong regardless of his apparent weakened and beaten state. My wolf howled inside, and I cried with her.
When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, there was a loud, spongy pop. The sound was followed by the soft, wet thuds of whatever was left of the shifter, and the return of silence.
Horror filled every cell in my body. What had been in that syringe?
Now, I sat in the same corner with S-272 by my side as we listened to another horrific death. This one was shifter 346. This was the fifth shifter who I’d heard, if not watched, implode from another failed test. I remembered each shifter’s number. After the second shifter had died that first day I’d witnessed the experiments, I stole a scalpel from one of the drawers, wrapped it to protect the sharp blade, and hid it in my room. I found a spot behind my bed where I carved numbers into the drywall. Each shifter who’d died on my watch.
After we cleaned up the remains of 346 and then 294, I was returned to my room for another congealed bowl of stew. I forced down the stale roll. When the lights went out, my wolf came out. She remained on the bed, head on her paws as she watched the door.
When I woke the next morning in my human form, I made one decision. One thing I could control.
I would no longer turn away from the experiments. I would learn everything I could about what was happening here. It was most likely a useless effort, but I would no longer just participate.
I am wolf.
I would watch my prey and learn their weaknesses before they came for me.
I am wolf.
Chapter Six
Sergi,a backpack slung over his shoulder, exited the plane and strode up the jetway into the Bucharest airport. He didn’t stop to wait for Carlos. Rafael, who was first off the plane, hadn’t waited either.
They would meet at the hotel. Three big men in dark clothing traveling together would draw eyes. If there were vampires in the airport monitoring arrivals, he and Rafael could blend more easily among the humans if they weren’t together.
Carlos was the safest of the group. He was a rogue and, like Decker, kept in contact with Remus. He was eager to do his part, knowing that if Venizi took control of the Council, shifters’ freedoms could be in jeopardy, and rogues would be the most vulnerable without protection from a pack.
Since Carlos would be the least noticeable, his first task was to rent a vehicle. Rafael grabbed the hotel shuttle while Sergi stood at the taxi stand and waited for a cab. He scratched his arm where the GPS tracker had been placed. It didn’t itch, and with his vampire blood, any evidence of a scar had been erased. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew it was there, and it was a bit unnerving.
He reminded himself it was for his team’s safety. He wasn’t sure it would be enough.
With the wait for a taxi and then the drive to the hotel, he arrived at the hotel twenty-five minutes later. It was a middle-of-the-road franchise. Nothing too fancy. Nothing subpar. Amenities included a dining room, a bar, wi-fi, and coffee pots in each room.
Each team member had their own room on different floors. His room was on the third. He placed the backpack on the dresser and removed his Dopp kit and satellite burner. He turned on the bathroom lights, scanned the accommodations, and dropped the kit on the sink.
Back in the main room, he played with the clock radio until he found a classical station and turned the volume low. He sat on the end of the bed and sent two texts with his room number and a time. Then he laid back, his feet still on the floor, as he stared at the ceiling. He slept for one hour before his internal time clock, honed from centuries of battle, woke him. There was a menu in one of the dresser drawers, and he placed an order with room service before settling into a chair at the small table.
He stared out the window while he waited.
It was moments like this that he wished he could meditate. Simone had sat with him numerous times, always providing a single candle for focus. Try as he might, his mind never calmed. She’d claimed he was too impatient, and then they would laugh since she was no more patient than him. The last time they’d practiced together, she had tapped his knee and gave him one last suggestion.
“Don’t force it. If all this does is help organize your thoughts, consider it a success.”
Her advice had been sound, and he followed it now, allowing his mind to wander through his past. His first memories were always of battles. It didn’t matter if they’d won or lost.He thought of the vampires he’d fought with—those he’d lost contact with and those who had died on the field.
