Chapter 45 – AZAREL #2
"Knight." I use the tone I’ve used countless times when commanding younger men who were in a state of shock. “I'm not asking you to think right now. I'm not asking you to understand. I'm just asking you to move your hand and put your claw in this lock."
Because that’s what he is.
A young man.
His hair may be bone white, but when he roared Cosima's name in the medical wing, even through the feral snarl and the almost echoing quality of his unexpected voice, I heard it.
That faint lilt at the end, the way the syllables rolled differently than they would from a Reinmichian tongue.
Vrissian, buried under years of whatever hell made him mute.
It isn't age or experience that whitened his hair.
And none of the numerous scars on his body are particularly old. The Y-shaped scar branching from both collarbones to his navel, the one that resembles an autopsy scar, is the oldest. Like scoring the rings on a tree, he’s in his late twenties at the most.
No wonder his mind broke.
I've pieced things together since encountering the "monster" from Cosima's nightmares. Plague wouldn't tell me much, naturally. But I know Knight and Wraith are from the same facility. I know Wraith escaped earlier—much earlier—and grew up with a brother who loved him.
Knight had nothing.
He might be too far gone.
"Can you speak?" I ask softly, watching for any flicker of response. "Can you say her name again? Cosima?"
Nothing. His jaw doesn't move. He makes no sound except the soft, growling rasp of his labored breathing.
Whatever broke through in that medical wing, whatever desperate need allowed him to force out her name… it's gone now. Locked away again behind layers of damage I can't begin to comprehend. Because in spite of his monstrous appearance, Knight is still human.
The men that did this to him are the real monsters.
“Please,” I grit out, holding that empty gaze, willing him with everything I fucking have to save her. To save our mate.
And for a long time, maybe even a solid minute, nothing happens.
Then he turns his head down and away so I can’t see his face anymore, his knees drawing slightly closer to his chest, hunching in on himself. Fresh blood drips from his wounded face as his massive body quakes again and his metal arm shifts.
The movement is sluggish, uncoordinated. His metal gauntlet of a hand trembles as he extends it, curved claws glinting gold and red the torchlight. The servos in his augmented limb whine with the effort, sparking intermittently.
But he's moving.
"That's it," I encourage, watching those metal claws creep toward my shackle with agonizing slowness. "Just a little further. You can do this."
His breathing becomes more labored. The blood drips faster. Whatever cocktail of sedatives they pumped into his system is fighting his every movement, turning simple motor control into a herculean effort.
But he keeps reaching.
The claw inches closer.
"Just a bit more," I urge, my own muscles tensing with sympathetic effort. "Do it for her. For Cosima."
His claw touches the iron.
"Yes! Now just slide it into the keyhole. There's a mechanism inside that—"
He doesn't listen.
Instead of carefully manipulating the lock, his metal claws close around the chain anchoring my shackle to the wall.
And he pulls.
The sound of stone cracking fills the cell. Dust rains down from the ceiling as the anchor point rips free from the wall with a screech of protesting metal. The shackle remains locked around my wrist, but the chain now dangles free, several feet of heavy iron links dragging on the dirt floor.
I stare at the destruction, then at Knight.
"That works, I guess," I mutter.
He's already moving to his own chains. His human hand twists and closes around the right anchor, muscles jumping beneath his scarred skin. Another crack, another shower of stone dust, and that chain rips free. He tears off the chains securing his metal arm next like they’re made of paper.
He rises to his feet, bracing himself against the wall with his human hand, panting as he straightens to his full impossible height. The chains are still dangling from his wrists, though he’s so huge they’re not dragging on the ground, but he's no longer pinned to the wall.
Neither of us are.
I test my legs, fighting the lingering effects of the sedative that makes everything feel like I'm moving through water. Knight sways on his feet, barely managing to stay upright. His scarred eyes have that glassy, unfocused quality again.
Whatever burst of strength he just displayed cost him. Badly.
"Can you walk?" I ask him.
He takes one lurching step forward and nearly collapses. He catches himself on the wall again, this time with his metal claws in a shower of sparks.
Fuck.
"Alright." I move to his side slowly, telegraphing my movements so I don't startle him.
"I'm going to help you walk," I say quietly, ducking carefully under his human arm to take some of his weight.
He growls—a reflexive warning—but I keep my touch steady, supportive rather than restraining.
"I'm sorry. But we have to move together if we're going to reach her. "
He doesn’t respond.
I’ll take that as a yes.
We stagger toward the cell door. It's solid iron, but the lock mechanism is simple enough. If Plague had thrown us in one of the more advanced dungeons, we wouldn’t be doing this right now, but the petty bastard went full medieval on our asses.
The real security is the hordes of guards, but we have to take this one step at a fucking time.
I partially unwind the cilice beneath the bandages on my right hand and extend one of the barbs. The bones were too small and delicate to unlock my shackles, but the lock on the door is smaller. The bone slips into the lock on the other side and scrapes against the mechanism.
And then it snaps.
Fuck. I try another, being a bit more careful this time, and jiggle it until the lock clicks open and—
Footsteps. Boots scuffing stone, still a ways off but getting closer. The voices of two men drift down the corridor. Guards.
"—don't know why they bothered chaining it up." One of the guards, his voice echoing off the walls. "Should have just put a bolt through its skull and been done with it."
"His Majesty's orders." The other guard gives a dry laugh. "Said to be 'gentle' with it. A joke, if you ask me. Did you see its face? Fucking thing looks like a demon."
A snort of laughter. "Asi pissed himself when they brought it through. Swears it tried to bite him."
"Probably did. Thing's not right in the head. You can see it in the eyes—nothing there. Just empty."
I glance at Knight.
He's still hunched against the wall, that white curtain of hair hiding his ruined face. His breathing hasn't changed. No indication he heard them or cares if he did.
Maybe he's used to it.
More laughter, closer now.
"Try not to die," I mutter to Knight, shifting to let him lean against the wall as I position myself. The chains attached to my shackles aren't ideal weapons, but they're better than nothing. "Cosima would be upset."
That gets his attention.
Knight's response is a low rumbling growl that vibrates through his chest. It's the first sound he's made that resembles the feral alpha from the medical wing.
Good enough.
The door bursts open.
I lunge out of the cell and swing the chain in a wide arc, catching the first guard across the temple. He drops like a puppet with cut strings and slumps against the wall.
The second guard lets out a yell of surprise and comes at us with a shock baton, electricity crackling along its length in blue arcs.
Knight freezes.
His entire massive frame locks up and he flinches so hard, he's practically caving in on himself, blue eyes going wide and blank with terror. He's not here anymore. He's back in whatever nightmare those monsters put him through, whatever had him in its grip when he saw Cosima on that table.
The guard sees the opening. Raises the baton. Aims for Knight with a vicious sneer like he's about to beat a fucking animal and not a traumatized human being who's been through hell and back.
I throw myself in front of him and take the hit. The baton connects with my shoulder and white-hot agony explodes through every nerve. My muscles seize, lock up. I taste copper. Smell my own flesh burning.
Can't breathe. Can't even fucking think. Just pain radiating out from the point of impact like lightning through water.
Knight's metal claws slash out. The guard with the baton goes down in pieces before his severed hand even hits the ground. Knight passes me on the right, and for just a second, those blue eyes meet mine.
He looks… confused. Confused someone stood in the way and took a hit for him.
"Alright. We're even," I grit out, forcing myself upright despite my heart still trying to find its rhythm. My chest is still screaming, muscles twitching with residual electricity. "Now let's move."
Knight growls his agreement.
Even drugged and broken, he's still a formidable weapon. Those metal claws slash through the air in a sweeping arc. Two more guards coming at us go down in one swipe. Another makes it three steps before Knight's human hand closes around his skull. The crack echoes through the dungeon.
Knight sways, panting. Blood—not all of it his own—drips from his claws. His eyes are still empty, but there's something there now. A spark of the killer they made him into.
"Come on." I grab his human arm again, pulling him toward the doorway. He staggers after me as if he's drunk. "We're almost there."
We move through the dungeon corridors, following the slope upward. More guards appear. More bodies fall. I lose track of the count after six.
The dilapidated stone walls give way to finished corridors. Torches become proper lighting. We’re getting close to the exit.
Familiar voices echo off the stone.
Multiple alphas, speaking in urgent tones. I recognize my brother's clipped cadence immediately, along with the rougher voices of Cosima's pack.
We round the corner and freeze.
My brother stands at the front of a group that includes Nikolai, Raven, and guards with weapons drawn. But what stops me cold is the sight of Geo carrying something limp and bloodied in his arms.
Someone.
Cosima.