Nash
COLD LIGHT. Grey light. I lie on the floor. My body tingles with agony. The last time they took me out of here, I lost consciousness after the first pain test. I don't know how long they worked me over, but I did nothing to resist. They threw me back in here and I haven't moved, not even when they shoved food inside. That could've been a day, or a week ago. The food smells wrong, as if it's started to turn.
Denali is gone. I couldn't protect her. As far as I'm concerned, I deserve to rot.
The door opens and the air wafts over me, heavy with the scent of antiseptic cleansers.
"This is your prize, your King of the Beasts? He does not look long for the world." A voice with a thick accent, a scent of a wolf I don't recognize.
"The experiments have taken their toll." This voice I know. Smyth. The doctor in charge of the program. "But he still is a strong specimen. Former special ops. His lion emerged when he engaged in human battle. He was separated, pinned down, and his lion took over. Took twenty bullets. Slew every one of the enemy. A natural born killer."
"But now," the accented voice tinges with disdain. "He is quite pathetic."
"He formed an attachment with one of the breeders. A lioness. We think he mate marked her."
"Really? Where is she?"
"She escaped, sir. Some laziness with the guards. They had her uncuffed and she killed one, maimed the other. We tried to track her, but she's highly intelligent, and very determined. Took to the sewers-the trail disappeared."
"I wonder... if you found her, and returned her to him, would he revive?" The door closes, the voices muffled.
No.
I roll, stifling a groan, and drag myself to the food tray. I dip my fingers in the slop and eat. The gruel is tasteless, the meat almost spoiled, but I force it down. By the time I'm done, my body is on fire. The food does its work-giving my system what it needs to regenerate. I'll heal and co-operate and pretend I'm fine. If they ask me about the mate mark, I'll say it was an act of violence. That it meant nothing. I'll lie and do whatever ever they want me to do. Submit. Obey. Even if it drives my lion mad.
I have to live... if not for my sake, then for Denali's.
DENALI
THREE DAYS LIVING LIKE A ZOMBIE. I don't even know how I go through the motions with my clients, with Nolan. I broke down crying when Nolan asked where Nash had gone. My little boy wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed, doing his best to offer me comfort.
"Don't cry, momma. He'll be back."
I shook my head. "No. He won't, Nolan. I'm sorry, baby, but he's not well enough to be with us. His lion is sick."
With the perceptiveness of a child, he corrected me. "No, momma. His lion is only sick when he's away from us."
I'd cried even harder then but threw myself into the shower to get it together.
Now, the two of us are hanging out in the backyard. He's playing with a dump truck. I'm staring at the same stain on the patio. I force myself to get up and turn on the hose to water the trees.
Fates, this pain in my chest. This heaviness.
I wish Nash had never come. I wish he hadn't made me fall in love again. To start to believe I could have that perfect life I dreamed of.
I understand he isn't well. I know he's afraid he might hurt me the way his father attacked his mom. But even so, I will never, ever forgive him for inserting himself into my life and then walking away.
Agent Dune
NASH LEFT the cottage up in Temecula, but some gut instinct has Charlie still watching it. There's a child there, and he looks like Nash. Charlie can't find much on the mother, Denali, except that she disappeared from New Orleans four years ago and then resurfaced with the child, Nolan, only recently in California.
Charlie hides his car a mile away and hikes up around the hillside toward the back of the cottage. From the distance, he can see the child playing in the fenced backyard. Denali's out with him, watering with a hose. An unmarked white van pulls up in front of the cottage. Something about it strikes him as odd.
Denali says something to the boy and goes inside. The boy's head jerks up and then he falls to the ground, limp as a rag doll. A man vaults over the fence and drops right in front of him. He picks the boy up and tosses him over the fence, where another man catches him and runs to the van. The entire operation takes all of thirty seconds.
Charlie sprints down the hillside, his instinct to protect the innocent stronger than the need to gather intel, but it's too late. Both men are in the van and it's driving off.
He falls to his belly on the ground and yanks out his camera, snapping pictures of the van and the license plate as it peels around the corner and disappears.
Fuck.
His vehicle is way too far away to give chase. He turns and slips back up the hill.
In his career as a special ops agent he's seen and heard many terrible things. He's killed for his country. Committed and covered up crimes for his country. But nothing's made him as sick as hearing Denali's anguished screams echo up the mountainside when she realizes her son is missing.
Nash
"ALPHA? ALPHA?"
"Not your alpha," I mumble, groping for my glass. My fingers hit a bottle and I lift that instead, gulping down the cool fire like it's water.
"Jay-sus," Declan breathes. He, Laurie and Parker lean over me. "Ya smell like a turpentine factory. What is that shite?"
I blink, pushing up from the bar to look groggily around the empty upper room at The Pit. I must've driven straight here after Denali kicked me out. I drank all night and most of the morning to forget.