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The tiger in him would not sit back at hearing the sick bastard, and a roar tore free as the desire to kill consumed him. Jaygen just barely held back from shifting.
Michele cackled and the desire to see the light drain from his cold eyes held Jaygen in a tight grasp. But Jaygen knew he was losing and the image was slipping between his fingers like water.
Porter deserved so much better than the hand he was dealt. He'd trusted Jaygen with killing his nightmares and he'd failed. Jaygen glanced over to Gabriel Manetti who looked all too calm about hearing how his son was treated under the care of his right-hand man.
Jaygen would kill them. He'd make sure their deaths were filled with terror and pain. He just needed to get out of there first and in order to do so, he needed to gain control once more.
But that was easier said than done.
Jaygen's hands trembled, and no matter how hard he tried to get them to stay still, they wouldn't. He was losing control over his own body. Another nail was torn from his hand, and a small growl slipped free. Michele continued with his sordid stories making it impossible for Jaygen to ignore him.
He was breaking.
A ringing pierced the room and Michele finally fell quiet. Jaygen sucked in ragged breaths. His entire body was shaking and blood caked him all over, along with sweat and dirt. He wanted nothing more than a shower or six. But more importantly, he wanted to be back at PGD in bed with Porter and the others.
"Damn, out of time," Michele said.
Jaygen's eyelids felt heavy and he fought to keep them open.
"Force him to shift. We can wash him down and animal forms sell better," Gabriel said.
As if.Jaygen wouldn't give that to him. No one would ever force him to shift again. Never.
His arms and ankles were unbound and before anyone saw it coming, he moved with strength he didn't have and punched Michele in the face. The sickening crunch of his nose and the hot splash of blood against his fist was almost satisfying. But nothing would quite quench the anger inside of Jaygen like the men's death.
Jaygen's body slammed against the hard, dirty cement floor. He was dragged down before he could do more damage. His ribs screamed in agony. It didn't matter how fast he healed. He was weak due to blood loss and the fighting he'd done right before the torture had started. Jaygen was running on pure spite at that point.
Jaygen's eyelids dropped down as his body grew impossibly heavy. Every breath felt as if a serrated knife dragged across his lungs, making him want to close his eyes all the more. He blinked and realized he was in a cage.
Jaygen's heart rate spiked instantly as old memories of cages threatened to claw their way from the deepest darkest spot in his memory. Jaygen gritted his teeth. He escaped that; he was in control.
A hard jab to his arm took Jaygen by surprise. His body moved on its own, and he slammed into the other side of the cage. Bars dug into his back, and he knew instantly it was too late as the familiar heat of the black market drug coursed through his body. They were forcing him to shift.
A bellow ripped from him as his bones broke and reshaped. Panic gripped his heart as it hammered against his ribs and he roared. Jaygen wasn't in control. He never was.
It was all an illusion.
The house was moreactive than Porter had seen it in a long time. Guards patrolled not only the grounds but the area around it too. They could only park down a side alley that was dark and dank and smelled of piss. But it was as close as they could get without arousing the suspicion of an armed guard.
"How many fucking men does he have?" Foi muttered.
"They're not all ours." Porter pointed to a woman standing with a group of men. "You see them? The little colors on their clothes, the gold and black, are the Bianchi family. Allies." Porter shook his head. "If they're helping then there's bound to be others."
Cyrus leaned forward in his seat. "How are we supposed to get to Jaygen?"
The short answer was, they weren't. Porter's stomach twisted at the thought of leaving the man to his fate, but there was no way a few of them could take on that many people. Even if they pushed themselves to their limits there were still only four of them against an onslaught of others. Those were impossible numbers.
"We don't," Porter said, his lip trembling. "If we go out there, we get killed. Or all of you get killed at least. And then he'll drag me and Amy back home." He sat up a little higher, his resolve hardening. Porter couldn't let them take Amy back.
"Not getting him isn't an option," Foi growled and when Porter looked at him he saw the way his hands curled around the steering wheel, squeezing it so hard it creaked and threatened to crack. "We're not leaving him again."
Porter reached over and laid a hand on top of Foi's. He could feel the hurt and despair rolling off of Foi, but this wasn't the time to lose themselves. If the wolf lost his patience, it could be the difference between life and death. And Porter couldn't lose anyone else.
"What do we do?" Ozni asked.
Porter was about to shake his head when he froze. A black van drove past them down the alleyway and pulled out onto the main road. He'd seen that van many times before and it always meant one thing.
"Auction house," Porter's heart fluttered. "They're selling him off."
