Page 37 of House of Wolves

I extend my arms, turning in a circle. “I look safe to you, don’t I?”

“Then why are you hiding things from me? I’m worried he’s getting to you.”

I move toward the exit of my office. “You should know me better and trust my judgment.” I move past him. He’s being irrational and maybe I’m running a bit too hot and should just share my doubts about Brick’s involvement with the Hunters. I don’t have any concrete evidence against it, though, just a vague intuition that could very well be caused by being superbly dicked down. I know this. I need to get out of here. We shouldn’t have this conversation now.

“Carmen, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this,” he calls after me.

I hold the front door for him to exit. I need to lock up and can’t storm off dramatically. I sigh, meeting his saddened eyes. “I don’t want to discuss this now. Give me some time to clear my head and work out some theories. I need to know you trust me enough to do that.”

He stops in front of me. “I do trust you. Of course, I do.”

I nod. “Good. I’ll call you tonight.”

He nods, walking to his red Porsche and hopping inside. I watch him drive out of the desolate parking lot before retrieving my keys and locking the door. So much for getting work done. It seems I need to spend more time clearing my head about Brick. I sigh, looking down at my bag as I walk to my car. Someone steps in front of me, startling me and sending me back a step. Before I have time to register the person, a hand wraps around my mouth, pressing a cloth over my airway. I only struggle against the masked stranger’s grasp for a moment before my world turns dark, and my body limps.

16

Lab Pig

Abeepdragsmeoutof an endless darkness. I’ve had my fair share of blackout nights, requiring me to investigate before understanding where I fell asleep, and at first, I think this must be my situation. I don’t remember drinking too much, but no one ever does immediately after they come to. Bright fluorescent lights needle their way into the thin skin of my eyelids, and I cover my eyes with my hands, slowly bringing them away as the pain lessens.

I sit before taking in the room around me. My neck and back hurt like a bitch, probably due to the cold tiled floor underneath me. I open my eyes, examining the sterile white room. White tiles cover every inch, and a metal cot with thin white bedding sits in the corner, parallel to a metal toilet.

Panic washes over me. I rise to my feet, cursing as I wobble, but my fear steadies me, and I approach the white door, attempting to turn the handle. It’s locked, of course. I pound against the surface, screaming for someone to let me out. This reaction is purely instinct, not based on any intelligence. Memories drip into my brain about where I was last before I blacked out.

I attempt to shift, hair rising at my arms and my ears elongating, but I’m still woozy from the drugs and unable to change completely. It wouldn’t matter anyway. As I walk the perimeter of the small room, pounding and kicking at every surface, I realize there’s no way out, even for a werewolf.

I flip my cot over. It’s stupid; there won’t be a hidden set of keys underneath, but my panicked brain must assess every nook and cranny in this room before accepting defeat. When I’m about to curl into a ball and cry, the door clicks, and I flip to the source, using all my skills to bare my claws.

In walks two men in all black wearing heavy-duty vests over their chests. Their expressionless faces and the batons topped with coil wire in their hands give away their status. They’re security, the muscle of whatever’s happening here.

“You must calm down, Carmen. You’re going to hurt yourself,” says a familiar voice behind the mass of muscle. The two men part, revealing Kilo wearing a white lab coat, his hair gelled back more than usual, and an alarmingly smug smile plastered across his handsome features.

“Kilo, what the fuck?” I step toward him, and the men’s batons burst to life, revealing electricity in the coils.

Kilo steps forward, unafraid of me, as he walks around my perimeter. It outrages me, but I don’t want to react rashly. Curiosity controls all my attention. He sighs. “Must I spell it out for you?”

“Why don’t you humor me? It seems you locked me in a cage. It’s the least you can do.”

He sighs, taking a seat on my bed. “For your pack’s star warrior, I’d thought you’d catch on sooner. It seems your brother did when he fed me the information about that girl being home alone and not sharing that it was a set-up meant for Brick.”

So it wasn’t Brick who informed the Hunters. I can’t help that my heart soars at this news. I’m locked in a cage, still feeling the effects of drugs, and yet all I can focus on is my elation that Brick isn’t working against the pack. Kilo’s words bring me back to reality. “I think this is penance enough for his trickery.” I can only hope Cameron doesn’t know about my capture. Of course, I want my freedom, but Red’s due any day. He needs to focus on her.

“So what? You’re a traitor to your own race? Working with the Hunters because you hate yourself?”

He laughs, shaking his head, sitting at the edge of my cot. “Would you fault someone born with an incurable disease, one that causes uncontrollable rage and to behave like an animal? If that person dedicated their whole life to ensuring no one would suffer the same fate, would you not call them a hero?”

“Being a werewolf is not a disease.”

He stands, circling me again. “You and your people are confined to solitude, feared by masses, unable to control your primal urges during periods of the year.”

“I have always been able to control myself just fine.”

Kilo removes the distance between us, tracing the underside of my chin. “You sniff people. You behave like a dog. A pretty dog, but a dog nonetheless.” I snap at his finger, my fangs beared. He moves away from me faster than humanly possible because, of course, he’s not a human. “There you go, proving my point again.” Rage boils in my blood, but I have an ounce of my wits left. I can’t just attack him blindly. He’s also a werewolf, one without drugs running through his veins. He could overtake me in a second. I need to play this strategically.

“I didn’t choose to be a werewolf,” he drones on, walking around me with his hands behind his back. “I was cursed with this affliction and have decided to dedicate my life to eradicating this disease. But there’s only one way to do that: kill the existing werewolves.”

“Why don’t you just kill yourself? Help everyone in this world.”

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