Bound (The Caged Wolf #1)

Cherry

The clanging of metal wakes me with a start and a shiver rolls through my body. My eyes narrow in on my cell door, but otherwise I don’t move.

Are they coming for me already?

The lights here stay dim all the time, and with no windows in sight, there is no way to tell one day from the next. It feels like they just brought me back to my cell a few hours ago, but I was so exhausted, I might have slept for a whole day… or longer.

Footsteps grow louder, and even though I know it won’t work, I close my eyes and hope that by not moving, they’ll pass right by me, forgetting I’m here.

I hate how much I wish it was someone else’s turn, wishing someone else pain instead of myself, but the truth is, I’m not sure how much longer I can withstand their torture. If I could end my own suffering, I would have done it a long time ago.

I have a terrible feeling I’m the only one left here.

That there’s nobody else to take a turn.

What happened to the rest of their captives plagues me.

Are they all dead? Did they escape? It’s not like I ever saw or spoke to them, but I’d hear the guards yell at them or make disgusting comments as they took them from their cells to their experimental sessions.

But I haven’t heard the guards talk to anyone else for a while now. Probably months, if not over a year. It’s too hard to tell. I’m pretty sure they don’t feed me on any sort of regular schedule. Just another way to torment me, not knowing when my next meal is coming.

I keep my eyes shut as the steps pause in front of my cell, and I hold my breath. Maybe they’re just checking to see if I’ve recovered, and it isn’t time for my next session yet.

I try to take slow, deep breaths so they think I’m asleep, but it’s hard to relax in this iron cage.

The sides and back walls of my cell are solid metal from floor to ceiling.

The front is solid on the bottom three feet, and iron bars stretch the rest of the way to the ceiling, with a door to match.

Across from my cell is the solid wall of the hallway. I pass two other cells on the same side of the hall as mine every time I’m led out of here, but I can’t see inside. When returning, I count at least five more cells after mine, but I don’t know which, if any, are occupied.

In the beginning, a few prisoners tried to speak to each other when they thought we were alone. But it was never long before guards came in and beat them into unconsciousness. None of the women ever spoke after that.

I assume it's all females in the cells because of remarks I've heard from our captors and guards over the years.

Whoever is in front of my cell starts walking again, and when the sound of the outer metal door closes, I open my eyes and let out a breath of relief, knowing they’re gone. I’m safe for now.

Safe. Yeah, right. I don’t even remember what safety feels like anymore, but it sure as hell isn’t being dragged from this cell every few days to be experimented on.

My entire body not only throbs in pain from the experiments but also from being stuck in this metal box. I ache to feel fresh earth under my paws again.

My wolf and I are essentially one and the same these days.

It’s been so long since I’ve taken to my human form that I don’t know where she ends and I begin.

I would have thought my wolf's side would have completely taken over by now, but the terrible conditions we’re living in, combined with the horrible experiments, made her weak, made her need me.

So she moved to the side and allowed me in with her.

We’ve been clinging to each other for survival, and at some point over the past few years, I stopped hearing her thoughts separate from mine, and we sort of blended together. I can still feel her instincts, but I feel them as my own now, instead of a separate entity.

Even if I can’t hear her anymore, her body has given me the strength to survive this hellhole. All either of us wants is freedom from the pain, in whatever way we can find it.

Closing my eyes, I let the feeling of our combined energy lull me to sleep. It’s the best way to recover in this terrible place, and if I have any hope of surviving the next session, I need to be as strong as possible.

I wake again to the sound of metal banging and heavy footsteps. It takes me about five seconds before I smell the food.

I’m always fed raw meat since I refuse to shift out of my wolf form.

But after years of the same thing, it completely grosses me out now, and I’m barely able to stomach it anymore.

I only eat it because I know that the pain of dying from hunger would be much worse, if it’s even possible for me to die from starvation.

As I watch the men pass my cell without stopping, my stomach drops. If they aren’t feeding me now, it can only mean one thing.

It’s my turn next.

But then, who is the meat for? I thought I was alone, but perhaps there’s someone else in here with me still. Is she new? I have not seen anyone new brought in for years.

But as I listen, their footsteps don’t stop until they reach the door at the other end of the corridor. I don’t know what’s out that way. More prisoners? Maybe it’s their own food or they’re bringing it to other guards. All I know is that if I’m not being fed, they’ll come for me soon.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, three guards are standing at my open cell door, staring down at me with amused smirks, as if they enjoy leading a wolf to slaughter.

Thatcher attaches the six-foot-long leash pole to my collar, ensuring I can’t attack the man holding it. But it’s pointless. I’m too weak most of the time to try anything anyway. Plus, I know there’s no point. The doors are all kept locked and they use key cards to open every door.

They lead me from my cell, pushing me to move faster than my body is capable of. The leash tightens on my throat, forcing me to keep up with them as they drag me through several hallways, as they always do.

Eventually, we end up in my least favorite place. They refer to it as the research lab, but I call it hell. It’s my personal torture chamber. I can’t count the number of visits I’ve had to this room over the years. It has to be in the hundreds by now.

As I walk into the room on all fours, the doc turns to look at me with a smile. “Ah, patient zero zero three, today I have a real treat for you. I have a new experiment to try!”

I swallow hard. It’s bad enough that they don’t even know my name, only referring to me as a number. But when the doc has new experiments, it always means a new kind of pain. If I know what he’s going to do, then I can brace myself for it. But it’s so much harder when I don’t know what to expect.

Before I can react, a muzzle is placed over my head, then I feel the telltale prick of a needle. I hate the needle. It paralyzes me, but I still feel everything. My heart hammers in my chest with fear. I let out a whine, knowing this is going to be a bad session.

My body starts to sway, then strong arms lift me onto the metal table, and I’m laid on my side.

I try to move, to bite them, to do anything but lie here, but my body refuses to respond, and all I can do is wait.

Having no control of my body is almost worse than the pain the doc likes to bestow upon me.

Almost. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what he has in store for me today.

Leather cuffs are connected around each of my limbs. I’m not sure why, when they know I won’t be able to move. Just another way to make me feel helpless.

“Alright, my dear, today we are going to see how you hold up to the loss of your fur.” He holds up something that looks like a cross between a blade and a razor.

He’s going to shave my fur off?

The thought makes me recoil internally. A shaved wolf? I don’t see how this does anything but humiliate me and leave me colder than I normally am in my damp cell. But it could be worse. Much worse. Maybe they want to see how fast my fur regrows?

He moves to my side, where I can’t visually track his movements. Then I feel it. He isn’t removing my fur, he’s removing my skin.

I howl in pain, although not a sound escapes me.

There are two kinds of pain in this world: emotional and physical.

When I’m in my cage, I sometimes convince myself that the emotional pain of being locked up here, knowing I’ll be tortured again soon, is worse than the physical.

But when the doc starts to literally slice me up, while I’m unable to move or even scream, I realize that this is, by far, the worst pain I’ve ever felt.

I just pray that this time, I die quickly.