Page 35 of His Claim
“For you,” I spat.
The door hissed open before he could answer.
The smell hit first, ripe with blood and sweat. Then came the sound of men grunting as they carried something inside the room.
And then I saw that they were carrying a girl.
She was barefoot, her hospital gown shredded at the seams, stained dark with dried blood. Her hair clung to her face in snarled tangles, but her eyes were bright, wild, almost glowing. Not exactly human, at least not anymore.
Four soldiers held her down, two on each side, their hands gripping her arms like they were wrestling a storm into submission. Her body bucked against them with a strength thatwas unexpected for her small size. A fifth had his arms locked around her throat and shoulders, his jaw clenched with effort.
She screamed, high and feral, a sound that scraped straight down my spine. Her teeth snapped, jaws clamping just inches from one soldier’s face. He jerked back, cursing, but didn’t let go.
“Move her!” Maelor barked from the doorway. His voice was loud and commanding, but even he kept his distance. “Strap her down. Immediately.”
The men shoved her forward, her heels skidding on the tile. She twisted like an animal caught in a trap, her muscles corded, veins standing out dark under her skin. They slammed her into the chair opposite mine, steel bolts screeching under the impact. She thrashed so hard the frame groaned. They quickly lashed several leather straps over her wrists, her chest, her ankles, the men pulling hard to hold her down. Even with six of them together, they shook with the strain.
She howled when the final buckle clicked, a sound that rattled the instruments on the counter. Her eyes rolled, then fixed on me—burning wild, animal bright.
In that moment, I wasn’t sure if she was going to break free and kill every wolf in the room including me… or if she was silently begging me to help her.
The tech closest to me swallowed, voice trembling. “Seven dead before we could take her down.”
“Eight,” another corrected. “The one she attacked on the stairs died just minutes ago. I heard it on the radio.”
The girl’s eyes never left me.
I tried to look away, to focus on the straps biting into my wrists, the antiseptic stench, anything but her stare, but it held me fast, as if she could see through my skin, into the bond humming under Varek’s mark.
Her lips peeled back, and her teeth clicked together.
Snap.
The sound cut through the steady beep of the monitors, and made every hair rise on my arms.
One of the med techs jolted. “Get another tranq in her, now! She burned through the last three in less than an hour.”
A soldier already had the rifle lifted. He squeezed the trigger, and a dart punched into her shoulder. She howled, twisting, eyes rolling. Another dart thudded into her thigh. Then another hit her in the belly.
She sagged, breath ragged, muscles trembling as the sedative bled into her system. For a moment, silence stretched thin. The straps creaked as her body slumped against them.
The tech closest to her exhaled, scribbling on his clipboard. “Finally.”
Another wiped sweat from his brow. “She’ll be out for only a little while. Get baseline vitals before?—”
The overhead speaker crackled, static bursting into the room.
“All squads report to South Concourse. Repeat, all squads. Support personnel report for lockdown. Security breach in Sector Two.”
The soldiers stiffened. The techs exchanged a look.
“We need to clear out.”
“But the subjects?—”
“Orders are orders. Let’s move.”
I struggled against the leather cutting into my wrists. “You can’t just?—”
