Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Blake
The world comes back in stages, each sense returning one by one and joining together in a jumble of consciousness. I feel like I should be used to the sensation of disorientation and lost time by now.
I’m not. No matter how many times I’m drugged and electrocuted, it takes just as long for my mind to reset, for me to come back to myself, as it did the first time.
The only bright side to the current situation is at least this time I know I haven’t killed anyone.
My mouth is sour, but free from the taste of blood, and my fur is clean.
But that doesn’t really matter. I’m still collared.
Still caged. Still helpless. And if I don’t find a way out of here, Doyle will do the same to Neil.
And worse.
Even though Rockcastle is a little isolated and a lot backwards, one thing they’ve never questioned is the value of male omegas.
There have never been many, but Rockcastle has always produced one or two every generation.
I’m not sure why male omegas have been regulated to little more than myths and folklore or why the rest of the shifter world seems to have almost completely lost the knowledge of male omega pregnancy outside of Rockcastle.
How—and why—Doyle, of all people, suddenly has that knowledge—when only a couple months ago he didn’t have a clue—is a mystery. He must have his claws in deeper than I thought.
Unfortunately, now that he knows, the danger is already realized. I can’t take the knowledge from his brain. Not without taking his head off, anyway. The only thing I can do now is try to prevent him from getting his hands on Neil and putting his disgusting plan into motion.
Which means I really need to get the hell out of here.
My situation hasn’t improved much from earlier except that I’m alone and, as an added bonus, conscious.
I can’t be sure how long Doyle’s been gone, but it’s still light outside so I doubt more than an hour has passed.
He probably didn’t mean for the drug he gave me before he left to wear off this quickly, and the fact that it did gives me an opportunity.
One I’m not going to waste. Or try not to anyway.
I shove to my feet and slam my shoulder against the side of the cage. It rocks a little, but the bars don’t budge. Of course that would’ve been way too easy. I’d already be out of here and on my way if it were that simple.
There’s a chance if I make enough noise, I’ll draw someone’s attention, but I don’t think humans would be too keen on letting a giant wolf out of a cage. And that’s if they don’t just call animal control. Or shoot me.
I snort and blow out a breath, my frustration morphing into anger.
At Doyle.
At the situation.
And at myself.
What good am I if I can’t even get out of this stupid cage?
I slam myself against the bars again, rocking the cage maybe half an inch, but otherwise doing absolutely nothing.
I repeat the process again and again, working myself into a frenzy as my wolf howls with rage in my head.
After a couple minutes, I collapse, panting and exhausted, my shoulder throbbing.
Whining softly, I rest my chin on my paws, and let out a long, helpless sigh.
This is no use. The only thing I’m succeeding in doing is causing myself pain. But what am I supposed to do?
Across the room, the doorknob rattles, the barely there sound almost too quiet even for my shifter ears to pick it up. The rattling ends just as quickly as it began and the silence returns. Somebody must’ve mistaken this room for theirs, and when they realized the key didn’t work, they moved on.
Except… the knob rattles again. This time the sound is louder, the person fiddling with the doorknob seeming a little more determined.
I pick my head up, staring in the direction of the door. If some human, a housekeeper or something, is about to burst in here, they’re definitely going to notice the giant wolf in a cage.
But I can’t hide. Or even shift.
I press myself against the back of the cage, lowering onto my belly and trying to make myself smaller, less threatening. I still look like exactly what I am—a huge wolf—but maybe if I act enough like a dog they might believe I’m some kind of hybrid.
The rattling continues, and I hear someone outside mutter a curse. The voice is too low for me to identify its owner, but I can tell it’s female.
A flicker of hope ignites in my chest. Could it be…
Something clicks, and there’s a quiet, pleased noise from whoever’s at the door. Half a second later, the doorknob turns and the door swings open. The bed blocks some of my view of the person in the doorway, but a quick sniff of the air confirms it’s Raquel.
“Blake?” she whispers into the room, voice hesitant as she pokes her head past the doorway.
I let out a soft whine to let her know I’m here, and she slips inside, shutting the door behind her. She walks around the edge of the bed, sees the cage, and her eyes widen before she rushes over and crouches next to the bars.
“Neil’s not with you,” she says, shoulder slumping.
I sadly shake my head from side to side.
She holds my gaze. “Is he safe at least?”
I simply stare back at her, the question too complicated to be answered with a simple yes or no.
“Okay then.” She nods to herself, glancing around the room, then takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure when Doyle will be back, so let’s get you out of there, and then we can go ride to Neil’s rescue or whatever.”
Tilting my head to the side, I let out an inquisitive noise.
“I don’t speak canine… Or is it lupine?” She pauses, then shakes her head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to assume you want to know how I avoided getting caught by Doyle?”
She eyes me, and I dip my chin. That’s not exactly what I want to know, but close enough.
“Well, you can thank pure dumb luck. After you guys left, I opened the window for a little fresh air, but the smell from the ‘pool’ set off my stomach. Once I was done puking, I batted my eyelashes at the clerk and convinced him to switch me to a different room. I was just getting settled in when Doyle showed up.” She chuckles.
“I wouldn’t have even noticed except he was pacing around the parking lot, loudly complaining to someone on the phone about the accommodations.
I guess you weren’t kidding when you said this is the only motel for miles. ”
She gives me a hard stare. “It sure would’ve been nice if I’d had a way to contact you guys and let you know what was going on here.” She gestures at the cage. “Then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.”
I grumble under my breath and she rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, shut it, Wolfie. You know I’m right.” She claps her hands. “Now, how about we get you out of there?”
She rises to her feet and walks around the side of the cage, a thoughtful look on her face.
Reaching out, she grabs hold of one of the bars and gives it a tug.
Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. Raquel doesn’t give off any brute strength vibes.
Plus she’s half my size, and I can barely move the damn thing.
She shrugs. “It was worth a try since my lock-picking skills aren’t exactly anything to brag about.”
She crouches down by the front of the cage and studies the lock on the door for a few seconds before pulling a couple bobby pins, or something similar, from her pocket.
She unbends one of the pins and sticks it into the lock, then uses the second one as a lever, wiggling it around in the lock.
One pin breaks and she curses before pulling another one from her pocket.
“Neil’s the one who taught me how to do this,” she says conversationally as she leans forward to get closer to the lock and insert the new pin.
“It’s not a skill I’ve really had to use much, though.
The motel room door was the first time I did it in real life.
” She bites at her lower lip as she maneuvers the pin around in the lock. “If I can just… yes!”
Something in the lock clicks, and Raquel tugs the door open and gets to her feet, grinning at me. I awkwardly make my way out of the cage and rise to my full height, giving myself a brisk shake to release some of the tension in my muscles from being crammed into the too small cage.
She steps closer and runs one finger over the edge of the collar, frowning.
“I don’t think I can get this off,” she says.
“It’s not as thick and bulky as the other one, and I don’t think it’s been welded closed or anything, but I don’t want to try to pick the lock and find out it has some kind of painful security measure to prevent that. ”
I wiggle my shoulders in something kind of like a shrug. The collar isn’t my priority. Neil is. I nudge Raquel with my nose and jerk my head toward the door.
“I’m going to take that to mean the collar is a problem for later,” she says, moving to the doorway and poking her head outside. “Coast is clear at the moment. Let’s get out of here.”
I pad over to the doorway, stopping at her side. My gaze scans the parking lot and disappointment wells in my chest. I’m not sure what vehicle or vehicles Doyle and the others arrived in, but they must’ve left the truck out at Rockcastle. And the pickings for other modes of transportation are slim.
In fact, there’s only one car in the lot, a four-door sedan parked by the motel office.
The sedan is larger than the vehicle we escaped the casino in but the rust to car ratio is much higher, and I’m surprised it even runs.
Well, I’m assuming it runs, anyway, since it’s here and not in a junkyard somewhere.
Raquel and I approach the car. She walks around it, peering in the driver’s side window for a second, then shakes her head. “No keys. I guess we’re not that lucky.” She glances toward the office and sighs. “Looks like I’m subjecting myself to the slimy creep at the desk again.”
She motions for me to wait here, fixes her hair using her reflection in the car window, pulls the front of her shirt down a bit, then strides inside with a wide, friendly smile on her face.
She returns less than five minutes later, her smile falling away as she exits the office.
She rolls her eyes, then winks at me and holds up a set of car keys.