19. Simon
Shadows drift back and forth over my eyelids as burning pain drags me into awareness. My chest feels as though ten tons of bricks have slammed into it repeatedly, and it hurts to draw breath. I struggle to sit up, grateful to the owner of the arm that slides around my shoulders, helping me upright. I blink several times before my vision clears enough to see Quin’s worried face hovering above my own, his gaze darting around the room and then back to me.
“Shit, Simon, are you okay? It looks like they took a meat grinder to your chest!” His voice is a frightened hush, as though he doesn’t want the others to know I’m awake yet.
“I… I feel like shit.”
Quin huffs out a sigh, sadness bleeding through the concern in his eyes.
“You look it, too. They carved you open, that’s for sure. We need to get food into you, it should help with the healing. From what we understood when the guards returned with you, they’ll be coming back for you tomorrow. You’ve pissed off O’Hare, that’s for certain, and he’s going to make you wish you were dead.”
I groan as my entire body throbs, but I push it all aside. I can’t afford to be weak, not now that I have O’Hare’s attention firmly affixed to my person. I mentally check in with Tálstrom, but except for some fatigue and a ravenous hunger, he doesn’t seem to be overly worried about our situation. In fact, he rumbles in his version of a steady purr at me, reassuring me that we’ve got this.
“If it’s the price I have to pay for protecting you all,” I pant as I stumble to my feet, determined to shower before anything else, “then I’ll pay it gladly, with interest.”
***
And thus establishes the pattern for the following weeks. Every morning I’m collected by a group of guards and led into what would be described as an operating theater, if only it was used for healing instead of brutal experimentation. I’m strapped to a steel table, spikes embedding themselves in my flesh from the underside of the reinforced bands holding me down as O’Hare triumphantly jabs me with syringe after syringe filled with only gods-knows-what. No matter how hard I fight to remain conscious, I inevitably end up succumbing to the darkness, but Tál is always there with me, his presence calm and reassuringly aware.
Every afternoon I rouse back on my cot, covered in blood and barely able to move from my injuries. Quin’s there, waiting for me to wake and relieved when I do, before helping me up and into a shower. I eat, I sleep, and I repeat the same sequence day after day.
I don’t know what O’Hare does to me while I’m under. Tál does, as he’s assured me that he remains fully conscious, but he’s not sharing his memories with me. I know it’s bad. Deep in my bones, I know. I think Tál’s shielding me from it all, but my dreams are disjointed and bloody, and I can’t shake the disturbing sense of dread every morning when the guards come for me. The only thing keeping me from believing I’ve finally died and gone to Hell is the health and vitality slowly growing in those under my protection.
I’ve lost weight. My scrubs are beginning to hang from me, and although my muscles don’t appear to have diminished at all there is very little fat left on me. It’s as though my body is consuming itself, trying to stay alive despite the repeated daily trauma it’s enduring.
It’s early in the morning and I’m lying on my cot, trying to steel myself for another day of torment, when Tál stirs.
They’re coming.
Wait, what?
I quieten, listening for the slap of shoes on concrete, of the footsteps of approaching guards, but all I can hear are the faint sounds of snoring coming from the other rooms.
Confused, I mentally nudge Tál, demanding more information.
What do you mean? Who’s coming?
He responds by nudging the bonds I’ve kept locked down since being abducted from Sacramento. I allow myself to open up to them, just enough to feel my bond mates, but not enough to let anything slip through.
Anger, excitement, worry, impatience… and blood lust? It’s all edging closer and closer, circling around my unknown position like vultures around a carcass. Sila, Nox, Bash, Kane, Petra, Cyril, Sarai, and Aodhán… they’re all there, and they’re all focused on… me?
A bolt of understanding flashes through me like lightning.
They’ve found us! They’ve found where Vieux Sang is keeping us, and they’re coming to the rescue!
I clamp back down on my bonds and try to remain calm, despite my heart thundering in my chest. I’m not sure if they’ll be here today or tomorrow, but when they do, we all need to be prepared. I know the others will come looking for me, and as much as I want to open our bonds up as both a beacon and communication conduit, there’s too much I need to protect them from right now. Not until I’m out from under O’Hare’s yoke and completely detoxed. I refuse to taint their bonds with the poison he’s poured into mine.
One thing is certain, though.
I won’t be leaving here alone.
***
I’m on tenterhooks the entire time I wait for the other shifters in the section to wake up and gather for breakfast. The moment they’re all present, I whistle for their attention.
“Guys, I’ve got some important fucking news, and I need to get it all out before the guards come for me today.”
A hush descends at my words, even Aaron and Abel falling silent at the seriousness of my tone.
“I can’t tell for certain, but I think my friends and family know where I am and are coming for me.” I look every person in the eye, projecting safety and assurance with every atom of my being.
“When they arrive, it’s probably gonna get messy, and scary. But you can trust them. They won’t hurt you, no matter how they look.”
“How will we know who they are?” Francis questions, and I grin at the thought of their animals running amok in here.
“Because of their animal halves. You won’t be able to miss the huge-ass wolves or the enormous bear. There’ll also be a bloodthirsty unicorn and several lions, as well as a saber-tooth. But the smallest cat—a snow leopard—is the one that the guards will have to look out for. She’s one of the strongest shifters the world has ever seen. She, along with Aodhán, will tear this place apart. Aodhán was once a captive, just like you.”
Several of the others suck in a shocked breath at my revelation, but it’s the tremor in Theo’s voice that tears at me.
“B… But, won’t you be with us?”
“I don’t know, little dude. I hope I am. But just in case O’Hare and his goons still have a hold of me when they arrive, I want you to know who to keep an eye out for.”
I spin to face my three blood brothers, determination shining in my eyes.
“When they come for us, do you want to come with me, or would you rather head someplace else? I won’t force you to go anywhere you don’t want to, and I know I’ll always be able to reach you via our bond if you need space.”
Quin hesitates, then lifts his chin.
“I… I have business in Louisiana. I need to check on things there first, and I’d rather do so without someone hovering over my shoulder.”
I nod, knowing he still worries about his shifter friends who took him in.
“Nick? Luc? How about you guys?”
The two mates look to each other before shaking their heads.
“We can’t be locked up again, even if it’s for our own protection,” Nick murmurs softly. “I remember one of the carers at the group home, before I was ‘adopted’ by Vieux Sang,” Nick continues. “I… I think if we were to find her, she’d hide us. I never got the impression she was bad or corrupt, because of the way she treated us kids. She was so happy, but so sad when I left. Happy because she thought I was going to a good home, but sad because she loved me and would miss me. I think we’ll go to her, until everything has settled down.”
I smile sadly with understanding.
“Just keep your bonds open to me and each other, okay? Promise me that, and I’ll make sure you’re free and clear of here before the dust settles.”
The three of them agree, swearing to keep their bonds open to me.
The only thing left to do is to sit back. And wait.