Chapter 12 Chapter 12
“...isn't always controllable. What if—"
"Then we adjust and try again," she said. "This is about understanding, not forcing. At least for
now."
The reduction of the inhibitor felt like surfacing from deep water. Slowly, gradually, I felt my
abilities creeping back, cautious and wounded.
The Primal form was there, buried beneath layers of fear and exhaustion, but there.
"Good," Dr. Mitchell said, watching the monitors. "I can see the physiological changes already.
Heart rate increasing. Adrenaline spiking. Your body recognizes the potential for transformation.
Now, when you're ready, try to shift. Just your hand. Start small.”
I closed my eyes. Focused on the feeling beneath my skin, the power that had terrified me for
so long. I thought about control, about Sage's training in the mountains, about the fact that I was
strong enough to survive this.
My right hand shifted.
Not fully Primal—just partially.
Claws extended from my fingertips. My bones reformed slightly,becoming denser, stronger. It hurt, but it was a familiar hurt. A hurt I could manage.
"Remarkable," Dr. Mitchell breathed, and I heard genuine scientific wonder in her voice.
"The transformation is incredibly controlled. Localized. Most shapeshifters shift completely or not at all.
But you're maintaining partial transformation while remaining conscious and responsive. This
is..."
"Valuable?" I suggested bitterly.
"Yes," she admitted. "Unfortunately for you, extremely valuable."
They ran tests for hours. Measuring, documenting, taking samples of partially transformed
tissue.
Dr. Mitchell was professional, almost gentle, but that didn't change what was happening.
I was being studied like an animal. Cataloged like a specimen. Reduced to genetic information
and research potential.
By the time they finished, I was exhausted beyond anything I'd ever felt. The constant
shifting—partial transformations, testing limits, pushing boundaries—had drained me
completely.
"Enough for today," Dr. Mitchell finally said. "We have excellent baseline data. Tomorrow we'll
move to more complex transformation patterns."
They unstrapped me from the chair. I could barely stand.
"Will it always be like this?" I asked as they led me back to the white room.
Dr. Mitchell paused. "I don't know. Mr. Xiang's research goals are... extensive. But I'll advocate
for rest periods. For humane treatment. It's all I can do."
"It's not enough," I said.
"I know," she replied. "Believe me, I know."
Back in the white room, alone again,
I collapsed onto the bed and let myself cry for the first time since waking up. Silent tears that soaked the pillow, my body shaking with exhaustion and grief.
Alex was out there somewhere. Elena was safe, probably worried sick.
The Sanctuary was continuing without me. Life went on.
And I was here, trapped in a white room, being taken apart piece by piece by people who saw
me as nothing more than a puzzle to solve.
I fell asleep thinking about Alex’s face— about his voice in my earpiece, about the moment I'd
chosen to surrender to save his life.
I wondered if he understood. If he forgave me.
If he was looking for me.
I hoped he was.
I hoped he'd find me before Mr. Xiang finished extracting everything useful and decided I was
disposable.
I hoped I'd survive long enough to be found.
The facility had rhythms I learned to recognize.
Morning meant Dr. Mitchell arriving with breakfast and an assessment.
Afternoon meant tests—blood draws, tissue samples, transformation trials that left me shaking and depleted.
Evening meant isolation in the white room, alone with fluorescent lights that never dimmed and
thoughts that never quieted.
I'd been here for five days. Or maybe six. Time blurred when every day looked identical.
On the morning of what I thought was day seven, something changed.
The door opened before breakfast, which never happened. A guard I didn't recognize stood in
the hallway, and behind him was someone who made my heart stop.
Charles. Not my father —this was Charles from my old pack, one of the hunters who'd been kind to me before everything fell apart.
He looked older now, harder, with scars I didn't remember and eyes that had seen too much.
He wore expensive clothes, the kind that said he belonged in a place like this, but his expression when he saw me was pure shock.
"Mia?" he breathed, my real name instead of the fake one I'd used with Mr. Xiang.
The guard frowned. "You know this subject?"
"Subject?" Charles’s voice went cold.
"This is a person. Her name is Mia Wisely.
What is she doing in a research facility?"
My mind raced.
Charles wasn't supposed to be here.
The pack didn't know where I was.
How had he found me? And why was he dressed like he belonged here?
"I'm part of Mr. Xiang's security consultation team," Charles said, and I realized he was
answering a question I hadn't asked.
"I was reviewing facility protocols and happened to see her on the monitoring system. I demand to know what she's doing here."
"That's classified," the guard said. "If you have concerns, take them to Mr. Xiang."
"I will," Charles said, his jaw tight. "Immediately."
He looked at me one more time, and I saw something in his eyes—a message I couldn't quite
read.
Then he turned and walked away, the guard following, the door locking behind them.
I sat on the bed, my mind spinning.
Charles was here. Working for Mr. Xiang's organization. Which meant either he'd betrayed the
pack and joined the research facility, or he was here for another reason. Either way, he'd
recognized me. Confirmed my identity. Which meant Mr. Xiang would now know exactly who I
am, where I came from, and potentially how to find everyone I cared about.
I'd just become exponentially more valuable and more vulnerable.
Dr. Mitchell arrived twenty minutes later. She looked stressed, her usual professional composure
cracking slightly.
"Mr. Xiang wants to see you," she said. "Immediately."
They didn't bother with restraints this time.
Two guards escorted me through hallways I'd never seen, past rooms with locked doors that I tried not to imagine the contents of.
The facility was bigger than I'd realised---multiple floors,dozens of rooms,all pristine, clinical and horrible
.Mr. Xiang office was on the top floor with windows overlooking a forest. I didn't recogne. We could have been anywhere --- upstate,New York, rural Pennsylvania and Canada. No way to know.
He sat beside a massive desk, and Charles stood beside him. Their body language suggested they'd been having an intense conversation.
"Mia Wisely," Mr Xiang said, smiling. "Or should I call you the Broken Wolf? That's what your old pack called you, according to Mr Charles here. The girl who couldn't shift properly. The freak who murdered her parents and fled into human world. You've had quite a journey "
I said nothing, because anything I said would be used against me.
"Mr. Charles has been very informative, "Mr. Xiang continued
"He left the pack two years ago after discovering certain... irregularities in their financial dealings. Money being funneled to unknown sources. He's been investigating independently, trying to expose the corrupt system. And imagine his surprise when he recognised you on our monitoring system".
Charles expression was unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was a friend ,an enemy or a helper.