Atonement (Land of Wolves #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I’m being moved.

Voices trickle in and out, the pulsing in my temples warping them into something distant and useless. I focus on the tones instead—sharp, urgent. Masculine and feminine.

I catch a few words. Hemothorax. Hypotensive. Medical words I don’t understand.

I don’t recognize the voices, so I suspect I’m not with the shifters. Caleb would be with me, whispering quiet comforts into my ear. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.

I’m still with HPAW.

Human Protection Against Wolves.

What a joke.

I’m lying on a stretcher, flat on my back with my right arm dangling off the edge. My shoulder is sore but no longer screaming. It was dislocated, but it must’ve been reset while I was unconscious.

Bright light burns my eyes even through my eyelids. I try to open them, but I can’t muster up the strength. Still, the light ebbs and flows, which I assume is me being rolled underneath HPAW’s fluorescent bulbs.

I must be inside one of their facilities. They succeeded.

Something warm touches my wrist. A hand. Fingers curl around my arm, and the voices surrounding me grow louder and panicked. Is it because I’m dying?

Where is Adam? The last time I saw the oversized shifter, he was unconscious in the back of HPAW’s transport van. He was so still.

He bit off his marking and spat it onto the floor between us. Neither of us was in great shape.

And Caleb…

No.

I don’t let myself go there.

I try to open my mouth, to move my fingers or wiggle my toes, but my body doesn’t cooperate. It’s useless, and after a few attempts, I give up. I’m alive, and I’m pretty sure HPAW plans to keep it that way. At least for now.

I have valuable information.

There’s a sharp pinch to the side of my neck. Cold spreads almost instantly, flooding my veins.

I’m not sure how much time has passed the next time I wake up, but I’m not in any pain.

In fact, there’s a concerning lack of pain.

I’m still groggy and unable to focus on a thought for longer than a second or two, but every inch of my body—most notably my head—is numb. It feels really fucking good.

The insufferable itch on the back of my hand tells me that I’m hooked up to an IV.

The voices are gone, too, now replaced with a rhythmic beeping. A heart rate monitor? Pressure on my pointer finger confirms my assumption. I still can’t fucking move, though.

At least I’m not dead.

My mouth tastes like copper, and I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth as the rhythmic beeping pulls me back under.

The voices have returned the next time I wake up. There are two of them, one I don’t recognize and another I do. It’s familiar. I’d know it anywhere.

Daniel.

I trusted him. Listened to him. Became what he wanted me to be. I considered him a sort of parental figure. Fucking liar.

His rough, gravelly voice is distinct. I blame it on thirty years of heavy menthol cigarette use. Smoking is a nasty habit he’s incredibly vocal about hating, but he has never worked up the strength to quit.

Given the bitter, chemical smell floating around me, I’d say he still hasn’t. Unsurprising.

Even without being able to see him, I know exactly what he looks like. Salt-and-pepper hair cropped closely to his head, blue eyes, and a bulky frame just muscular enough to make you wonder if he’s using muscle-enhancing drugs.

Daniel’s almost fifty, but he could easily take down most of the younger HPAW soldiers. He sure as fuck works out enough—every day for nearly two hours.

I know exactly how he’ll look at me when he sees me awake. In HPAW’s eyes, I’m something to be put down.

He clears his throat, and the smell of cigarettes grows stronger. “Evelyn?”

How does he know I’m awake? Probably the heart rate monitor.

“It’s Daniel,” he continues. “You took a few pretty bad hits. We had to rush you into emergency surgery, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Can you step to the side?” the second voice chimes in. “I need to switch out her fluids.”

The voice is feminine and unfamiliar. I’m not surprised. HPAW’s medical team has a high turnover rate. Many people struggle to compartmentalize the work HPAW expects of them.

That should have been my first clue that things were amiss here.

HPAW’s legal department spends a fortune securing their secrecy, and I faintly remember being forced—well, heavily encouraged—to sign an NDA on my eighteenth birthday.

I slide my tongue along the back of my front teeth, the only action I can muster up the strength to do. Bone-deep exhaustion prevents me from attempting anything else.

Where is Adam? Have they killed him already? I doubt it. They’ve probably chained him up in a cell with nothing more than a bucket to shit in.

Something cold enters the IV in the back of my hand. I’m unconscious within seconds.

The next time I wake up, I’m in pain. It’s most prominent in my head and chest, but I feel it everywhere. It’s welcome. Pain comes with a sense of control.

The room is silent except for the beeping of my heart monitor. The proof that I’m alive is comforting, and I take a moment to listen to it before forcing my eyes open. The bright, fluorescent lighting is blinding, and I blink several times to clear my vision before looking around.

As suspected, I’m in a hospital room.

It’s basically empty, with bland, white walls and two empty chairs at the end of my bed. Daniel must have left, but it won’t take long for somebody to realize I’m awake and sound the alarm.

HPAW will want to bring me in for questioning as soon as possible.

There are no windows in the room, so I assume I’m underground. I must be in my home facility. There are only two with underground levels, one in Missouri and another in South Dakota. I was raised in the South Dakota one, which is closest to Caleb’s pack lands.

If I were truly as injured as Daniel suggested, they would’ve brought me there.

I smack my lips, my mouth and throat uncomfortably dry. I’d kill for some water right about now, but I’m not going to let anybody know I’m awake just yet.

I need a plan. If I don’t have one by the time they walk through that door… I’m dead.

Caleb, for whatever reason, couldn’t stop HPAW during the multi-hour drive it would’ve taken to escape the pack lands. That in and of itself is incredibly concerning.

Even if Caleb had been killed—an outcome I don’t want to consider—the other shifters wouldn’t have let HPAW escape. Especially not with Adam. The wolves are adamant about protecting their own, and even if they didn’t want to save me, they would do whatever possible to save Adam.

The heart rate monitor spikes, and I shut my eyes and focus on my breathing until it settles. I don’t know how closely I’m being monitored, but I don’t want to give the medical team any reason to check in on me just yet.

I can’t let HPAW know I’m no longer with them.

I have to hope Adam keeps his big mouth shut. Unless he’s the informant. There must be one. HPAW’s attack wasn’t random. It was orchestrated. Somebody must’ve told them when and where the alphas would be meeting.

I pull my eyebrows together, not quite believing it. What’s Adam’s motive? He’s an asshole, but I can’t imagine him doing this. And to bite off his own marking…? There’s no faking the desperation he’s shown for his mate.

There’s no way it was him.

There’s no way I’m that bad at reading people.

But who else would it be? What have they told HPAW regarding my relationship with Alpha Knox? I assume more than I’d like them to.

It must’ve been somebody close to Caleb. Somebody high-ranking enough to know about the meeting.

There’s an unmistakable buzz of a door unlocking, then a click as it’s pushed open. My heart rate monitor blares, the useless fucking thing, and I peer through my eyelashes as a man steps into my room.

He’s young, maybe in his early twenties, with a baby face and bushy eyebrows. His blue scrubs swish with each step, and he taps at a tablet in his hands before looking up at me.

His lips curl into a wide smile. “Evelyn!” He halts at the foot of my bed. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

I hum.

“I’m Jay, your nurse for the evening,” he says. “How are you feeling?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “You had some pretty extensive injuries, but your recovery looks promising.”

I blow out a breath. “How long have I been here?”

“You were brought in a little over twenty-four hours ago.” Jay tucks his tablet under his left arm, then begins fiddling with my IV bag and some medical equipment beside my bed. “You have a few scrapes and scratches, but our surgeons fixed you right on up. You’re going to be just fine.”

Jay looks friendly, but I know better than to trust that. HPAW doesn’t keep soft people. Not for long. Besides, the medical team sees more than most.

I haven’t forgotten that clip Caleb showed me. They tortured that shifter. HPAW’s medical team keeps the dirtiest secrets.

Has Jay already met Adam? Will he be involved in the inevitable torture?

I’m desperate for answers, but I don’t want to show too much interest. I can’t let HPAW know I care for the shifters, especially not the one they currently have in their possession. I fear they’d hurt Adam to extract information from me.

“Where’s Daniel?” I ask instead.

He’s the last person I want to see right now, but the old Evelyn would be eager to see him. She’d be ecstatic to be free of Caleb, and she’d want to know exactly how many shifters were murdered during their attack. She’d revel in the number.

More than anything, though, she’d want to know if Caleb was successfully killed.

I still want to know all this information, but for drastically different reasons.

Jay inputs my vitals into his tablet. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” he says. “He’s been worried about you.”

I highly doubt that. Daniel is arguably the most pessimistic, skeptical person I’ve ever known. He, without a doubt, thinks I’ve been compromised. Convincing him otherwise will be a nightmare.

Jay sets his tablet on a small tray near my feet, then begins examining the bandage wrapped around my head. A strand of my black hair falls in front of my face. I flick it away.

“Are you in pain?” he asks.

I shrug. “A bit.”

I spare a glance at my marked hand. The color remains black, but the lines are no longer smudged. Our bond is still alive.

Jay shifts his attention to my shoulder. He unbuttons my gown, exposing a thick bandage covering the entire right side of my chest. The bandage looks fresh, and I wince as he peels it back to reveal black stitches. There are too many to count.

The skin they hold together spans the entire length of my breast. I’m relieved to see my nipple unharmed.

Jay applies a new bandage and fixes my gown. He doesn’t speak, which I’m grateful for, and I watch his every move through narrowed eyes.

“Everything looks good,” he finally says.

There’s a knock on the door, and a buzz as it’s unlocked. Daniel walks inside, making the room immediately feel smaller.

He’s wearing his typical HPAW uniform, and I just know the cheap cotton is uncomfortable. I wore a similar outfit every day for several years.

Daniel runs a hand over the top of his head. “Evelyn,” he starts. “You’re awake.”

“I am!” I force myself to sound cheery—relieved, even. Then I swallow, struggling to think of what to say.

What would the old Evelyn do?

“Well?” I force my lips into a cruel smirk. “What’d I miss?”