“Viktor thinks he’s watching you deteriorate. He doesn’t know he’s watching my protocols execute. When he runs out of options—and he will—I’ll be the only one left offering a solution.”
The room seems to tilt.
“Sable,” I whisper.
Her name scrapes out of me, broken and useless, but I say it anyway. A handhold. Something to cling to.
Faith’s smile softens.
“Are you talking about the she-wolf? How sweet.” Her voice stays low enough that only I can hear. “You should let go of that idea before it hurts more than it has to. I made you what you are. You’re my best creation, 3-0-6-7-0.”
Her fingertip presses once against the scar under my shirt.
“And I’m taking you back.”
Whatever I was holding onto slips.
The magic explodes out of me, undirected, uncontrolled. It hits every surface. The glass. The walls. The ceiling. The ward barriers absorb the first wave, but the second one shakes plaster from the ceiling. The lights flicker, and the monitoring equipment sparks and dies.
The restraints hold. I’m thrashing against the cuffs, half-shifted, claws ripping the cot padding to strips. The sound from my chest is something that doesn’t have a name. Bigger than a howl. Lower than a scream. The medic is shouting into her comms. The containment door is opening. The guard rushes in and grasps Faith’s arm.
“You need to get out of here, Dr. Fell.”
She’s smiling benignly. “It’s quite all right. He won’t harm me.”
I want to tear her apart. Rip her face from her skull and crack it open. A restraint pops as the cot beneath me starts to creak and groan in protest.
“Now, ma’am.” The guard is insistent.
“As you wish,” she concedes. “But I’m perfectly safe.” She’s still smiling.
A bulb overhead sparks and burns out.
Through the ringing in my ears, through the chaos, I hear Creed’s voice. Measured. Even.
“This is exactly what we’ve been telling you, Director. Without proper containment protocols, this only escalates. Your facility isn’t built for what he is. He could take this entire building down.” A beat. “We have the infrastructure. We have the research team. And we have a deal on the table that gets better for both of us every time he does this.”
Viktor’s response is low. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Faith has joined them in the observation room, but she hasn’t joined their conversation. She’s at the window, watching me.
And I’m strapped to the cot. Claws buried in shredded padding. Half-shifted. The ward barriers are cycling hard, trying to compensate for the damage. There’s blood on my wrists where the cuffs bit through skin.
They’re going to send me back.
The gas hasn’t come yet, but it doesn’t matter. The walls are white. The restraints are tight. She’s here. She’s touching the glass. She told me she was coming for me, and nobody heard her say it because she knows exactly how loud to speak when she wants the monitors to miss it.
They’re going to send me back!
They’re going to trade me. And from Viktor’s expression, he has already made a decision.
One wolf. One subject. One number on a file.
3-0-6-7-0
They’re going to send me back to the table and the scalpel and the gentle voice that says good morning while she opens me up.
My wolf throws himself against the walls of my chest. My magic pounds the ward barriers in waves that are getting weaker. The cuffs hold. The walls hold. Everything holds except me.
