Chapter 28 - Kit
Kit
Iwoke to the taste of copper and the burn of silver against my skin.
My head felt stuffed with cotton wool, thoughts sluggish and disconnected.
The sedative clung to my system like treacle, making everything feel distant and wrong.
I tried to flex my fingers, but silver bit into my wrists.
The itch crawled up my arms, making my wolf pace and snarl in the back of my mind.
The room came into focus slowly. Clinical white walls. A metal table bolted to the floor. Two-way mirror reflecting my own haggard face back at me. Everything sterile and calculated, designed to make me feel small and powerless.
I’d been in rooms like this before. During my Greywatch days, I’d sat on the other side of that mirror more times than I cared to remember.
My wolf clawed at my ribs, agitated by the silver and the confined space. The restraints made shifting difficult—not that I’d manage it with this much sedative still in my system anyway.
A figure stood motionless in the corner, rifle trained on me. The man’s face was obscured by shadow, but his build, his posture, the way he held himself… too still. Too vacant.
Malcolm.
My teeth clenched so tightly pain shot up to my temples. Of course they’d use him as a guard dog. In another life, I would have found it funny, my mighty father reduced to this. The irony would have been delicious if it wasn’t so perfectly calculated to gut me.
The door opened with a soft hydraulic hiss.
A woman entered, and my world tilted sideways.
Moira.
Older than when I’d last seen her—lines around her eyes, silver threading through her dark hair—yet she still carried herself like she owned every room she walked into.
Dark military fatigues, combat boots that barely made a sound on the polished floor.
The years had sharpened her rather than softened her, all angles and authority.
All those years ago, she’d recruited me. Promised me purpose, belonging, a way to serve something bigger than myself. I’d been young and stupid and desperate to matter.
I hadn’t seen her since.
My hands curled into fists against the restraints. Rage flooded my chest, hot and vicious. This was the woman who ruined my life, who broke me almost beyond repair.
But here she was, settling into the chair across from me with casual confidence.
I said nothing. Let her talk first. Show her cards.
“Kit,” she said warmly, like we were old friends meeting for coffee.
My wolf snarled.
“I do apologise for the inconvenience,” she continued, gesturing at the restraints with a faux display of regret. “And for the rather rough treatment prior to this. I’m afraid the silver is necessary for everyone’s safety.”
I stared at her.
“This facility houses our primary research equipment,” she said. “Our most valuable assets. We can’t afford to take any risks.”
“Where am I?” I kept my voice steady. Every scrap of information mattered now.
“Switzerland!” she said brightly. “Deep, deep in the wilderness. Great for hiking, in the summer.”
My heart sank. Switzerland. Miles and miles of snowy mountains in every direction, endless wilderness where a body could disappear forever.
“Losing our Highland branch earlier this year was… unfortunate,” Moira continued, her tone conversational.
“Our lovely Rory forced us to accelerate certain timelines. But it also gave us the opportunity to upgrade this facility even further. We have other sites worldwide of course, but I end up spending a lot of time here.”
“Where’s Isla?” I asked. We hadn’t managed to get even a whiff of Moira’s daughter since she disappeared on Rory in Scotland. “Is she okay? Rory’s been worried—”
“Isla is perfectly well,” Moira interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need to worry about her.” She leaned back in her chair, studying me like I was a particularly interesting specimen. “You’ve been busy since you left us, Kit. I hear you’re shacked up with a vampire in a hotel in London?”
I couldn’t help but flinch, even though it was obvious they’d been watching me. Watching everyone. Watching Felix. For how long?
“Come now,” Moira continued, her smile widening. “You thought we’d simply let our former operatives disappear without keeping tabs on them?”
My lips pressed together tightly.
“And you were one of our best operatives, Kit,” she said, settling back in her chair like we were having a pleasant chat. “Always so reliable. Dependable. I was genuinely saddened when you left us.”
The praise seeped through me like acid. Reliable. Dependable. Their perfect little killer.
I jerked against the restraints, silver digging deeper into my wrists. The metal chains rattled against the table, echoing in the sterile room.
“Come on, Kit. Enough of that.”
Moira nodded slightly. The gesture made no sense until movement caught my peripheral vision—my father shifting forward, rifle trained directly on my chest. She was commanding her guard dog.
My breath caught.
Don’t let her get a rise out of you. My self-control was better than this. Had to be.
I forced myself to still, clenching my teeth so tightly they ached before jerking my head towards my father. “So how did you pull that one off? I was told he was dead. Shot by armed police after some farmer reported him.”
The fake warmth drained from Moira’s face. “Your father was a piece of shit who deserved to die. I’ve simply put his body to better use.”
The casual brutality in her voice stunned me. Malcolm stood there like a statue, eyes completely vacant. Was there any part of him that could hear what she was saying about him? Understand?
“The shooting was staged,” Moira continued, eyes never leaving mine.
“Police were paid off to claim they held the wolf’s corpse.
Malcolm was recovered by Greywatch assets.
We planned the extraction for months. It wasn’t easy, but he’s perfect for our programme.
” She gestured towards him with obvious pride.
“At that time, we had tonnes of test subjects, but very few alphas. Someone with natural authority over other wolves.”
“Does my mother know the truth? Does she know he’s alive?”
Moira shook her head. “This is a win-win situation for everyone, I’d say. Kinder for everyone. Don’t pretend you and Rory were sad to hear he’d died. Besides, I hear Edina’s a far better leader than Malcolm ever was. I’m sure the pack is glad to be rid of him.”
I lurched forward, rattling my chains. “That wasn’t your choice to decide, you sick, twisted—”
“Let’s cut to the chase.” Moira stood, beginning to pace like she was giving a presentation, hands clasped behind her back. “Let’s discuss why you’re here.”
“Why… I’m here?” I repeatedly back, stupidly.
“Greywatch provides assets to governments worldwide. Conflicts that would drag on for years can be resolved in weeks or days with the right application of enhanced force.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “There’s no point pitching Greywatch to me again. I fucking lived it.”
“I’m aware. Though we’ve moved on since your time.” Her smile turned calculating. “You’ve got an early prototype of our chip in your head. You’re aware of that, aye?”
Something prickled at the back of my head—memory or metal, I couldn’t tell. I forced myself to nod.
“We’ve come so far since then. All with the goal of making our assets more reliable. More focused. Think about it, Kit—no more internal conflict, no more moral struggles. The chips remove the burden of choice entirely. Some might argue it’s kinder.”
“Kinder?” I eyed my father’s face, devoid of any emotion. “You’re talking about lobotomising them!”
“The controlled wolves are effective,” Moira continued, ignoring my disgust. “But there are… teething problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“We’re struggling to maintain control of them once shifted.
It’s fair to say that side of the technology is still very much in development.
As wolves, they become wild, unpredictable.
Difficult to direct.” She stopped pacing, fixing me with those cold eyes.
“It comes down to this, Kit. We need someone who understands both sides—the wolf and the soldier. Someone who can help us refine the process. Train our assets. Make them more… compliant.”
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. “You want me to help you break them. The shifted wolves, who refuse your control.”
“I want you to help us perfect them,” she corrected. “You’d be given respect, responsibility. You’d join our team as an equal, not an asset. You’d have a chance to make a real difference to the world.”
Laughter bubbled up and out of my throat.
I stared at her in disbelief. “Are you joking? Greywatch has never made a positive impact on the world. My time serving proved that. I was an assassin for hire, nothing more.” Zara Siddiqui’s face swam to the forefront of my mind, as she often did—that young woman in Pakistan we’d killed on some politician’s orders, caught up in someone else’s revenge plot.
“I killed innocent people. Innocent people who haunt my dreams. I now have to live with that for the rest of my life. Greywatch is an abomination.”
Moira’s eyes lit up, like I’d sparked something in her.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Kit. Greywatch prevents wars before they start.
We eliminate threats to global stability.
Remove dangerous individuals before they can cause widespread suffering.
” She leaned forward, voice taking on an evangelical fervour.
“Imagine conflicts resolved without civilian casualties. Rogue states neutralised before they can develop weapons of mass destruction. We’re not killers, Kit—we’re peacekeepers. ”
“If that’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, great,” I said, flatly. “But I’m having no part of it.”
Moira’s expression didn’t change, but something cold flickered behind her eyes. “I hoped you wouldn’t say that, Kit. Because there are only two ways this ends.” Her eyes flicked to the corner of the room. “And I think you understand the other option perfectly.”
My heart leapt to my throat. No. I’d fought so hard to escape Greywatch, to recover from what they did to me. And this time, it would be worse. I’d become just like my father, standing vacant-eyed in the corner. Like all the other wolves they’d broken and reprogrammed.
The room seemed to shrink around me. My pulse spiked, my wolf clawing frantically at my chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything I’d survived, everything I’d built for myself. After I’d found Felix.
Felix.
My wolf whined, desperate to return to our mate, to pick him up and hold him close to me. To breathe him in.
Moira reached for a manila folder on the table, sliding out two glossy photographs and placing them in front of me.
My blood froze.
The first photo showed Rory coming out of Fat Cat’s, arms full of coffee cups, grinning at something off-camera.
Then the second.
Felix leaving his apartment block. This wasn’t a CCTV angle—someone had photographed him from across the street. He had his headphones on, gaze fixed on the pavement, completely unaware he was being watched.
Fury clawed up my throat. Every instinct screamed at me to react, but my face stayed blank.
“He seems nice,” Moira said conversationally.
Another burst of hot, fresh rage coursed through my system, though my body remained frozen to the chair.
“Unusual for us to have a human mate, but not unheard of, of course.”
The words slammed into me. She knew. She knew about Felix, our mate bond, about everything.
“We’ve had a listening device in your hotel for months,” Moira explained casually. “Your Felix sounds brilliant, by the way.”
My control snapped.
I lunged forward, chains pulled taut as my chair toppled backwards. “Leave them out of this! This is between us! I swear, if you touch a hair on their heads!”
My father stepped forward, rifle raising slightly, but Moira waved him back with one dismissive hand.
Every inch of me shook with rage. I’d been here before. Different people, different country, but the same helpless fury. Cara’s blood soaking through my skin as the extraction team finally arrived, too late, always too fucking late. Her eyes going glassy while I begged her to hold on.
I’d sworn I’d never let that happen again. Never watch someone I loved die because of Greywatch’s games.
And now here was Moira, with these photographs of Felix and Rory like bargaining chips.
“You can’t,” I said, voice cracking. “You can’t do this again.”
Moira tilted her head. “Again?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat had closed up completely.
No. Not again. Not Felix.
“This doesn’t need to be difficult,” Moira said calmly. “And this isn’t forever. You can go back to Rory and Felix as soon as you’ve helped us perfect the technology. Back to your old life.”
Someone knocked on the door, then poked her head through. A young soldier in fatigues.
“They need you upstairs, ma’am.”
Moira nodded. “We’re done here anyway.” She stood, smoothing down her uniform. “It seems as if I won’t change your mind, Kit, which saddens me. We’re finalising the details for your chip installation. I’ll be there for the operation.”
She turned and walked out, leaving me staring at the photos. Rory’s carefree grin. Felix’s quiet concentration. The two people I loved most in the world.
They were both in danger because of me. Because I’d failed to protect them. I was chained, powerless, while the woman who’d destroyed my life once already prepared to take everything that mattered to me.
My father stood motionless in the corner, rifle trained on me. His finger rested against the trigger guard—ready to fire the moment I moved wrong. I wanted to scream at him, to beat my fists against his chest. Even his cruelty would be preferable to this hollow shell.
Would that be me in a few hours? Standing guard over the next poor bastard they dragged in here, my own mind locked away behind metal and circuitry?
I thought of Felix’s hands on my face, the way he’d looked at me after our first kiss in the woods. The soft sounds he made when I held him close. The trust in his eyes over the last few months as he ever so slowly let me into his heart.
They’d take all of that from me. Replace it with empty compliance, mechanical obedience.
My wolf howled in despair, the sound trapped behind my ribs where no one could hear it.
I was going to lose everything.
And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.