Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C hristophe
“We need your help capturing the rest of those responsible for what happened to you.”
Chael’s words circle in my mind over and over as I stare down at the metal handcuff around my wrist.
The rest of those responsible.
There’s more. Out there somewhere, possibly doing this to more shifters. And Dr. X, the worst of them all?—
My mind jerks as if my subconscious suddenly slammed on the brakes.
“Ashley!” I call out even though the room is empty. “Where is she? Did she survive?”
Again, no one responds. I search the room for something, anything that can help me alert someone outside of this room that I need their help.
Hanging over the back of my propped-up mattress is a call button. The only problem is, it’s on my right side—the same side of my handcuffed arm. I swing my free arm over to grab for the button, but the wire’s too short and again the tape from the IV injection pulls on my skin.
I don’t even pay attention when it rips open. I grab for the button and press like hell.
All of a sudden, I bellow out as agonizing pain scorches up my leg. I’ve jostled my broken leg too much in my attempt to call for help. But I don’t let the pain stop me.
“Christophe?” A nurse comes racing into the room, followed by what looks to be a male doctor.
“Where is she? Did she make it? Do they still have her?”
Both the nurse and the doctor give me confused expressions.
“Where are you hurting, Christophe?” The tall, lanky male doctor approaches me with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.
Flashes of white lab coats and men with gloved hands approaching me pop off in my mind.
“Stop!” I yell. “Don’t come near me. No!” I shout, unable to stop myself. My heart races so fast it feels as if it’s about to beat right out of my chest.
“No! Don’t!” I yell and try to kick but my broken leg only rewards me with incredible amounts of pain. The pain squeezes all of the muscles inside of my body, including my vocal cords. I can no longer shout. Or when I try, nothing comes out.
Everything hurts.
“Christophe, you have to calm down,” a woman’s voice calls out, but I don’t heed her warning. She’s trying to trick me just like they always do.
“Leave her alone!” I shout. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”
I blink, looking at the fake nurse once again. Her beleaguered expression implies that she’s thrown off by my outburst, but I know not to believe it. She’s likely doing her best to get me to play nice and go along with whatever their sick intentions are today.
Somehow, I manage to find the strength to push my body to the other side of the bed. When I attempt to stand, my broken leg and handcuffed wrist stop me from getting very far.
I should realize that even these minor freedoms were never afforded to me by my true captors, but my mind can’t reconcile the truth from reality right now.
All I can think of is Ashley. Is she here? Did they take her as well?
“What did you do to her?”
I have to make sure they’ve left Ashley alone.
“Christophe, please! You’re going to hurt yourself.” The fake nurse rounds the bed to move in front of me and prevent me from getting completely out of the bed.
Not that I could get very far with a broken leg and handcuffed to the bed railing. But I’ll drag the damn thing through the door if I have to.
“Christophe!” a deep, commanding voice calls.
My wolf instantly recognizes the voice of our alpha. But even that recognition doesn’t last long enough for either of us to calm down.
Especially when I don’t hear the voice of the one person I want to.
“No,” I growl, not for the first time defying my alpha.
I shake my head and struggle against the handcuffs again, fighting to break free. “I have to get to her. She could be hurt,” I murmur as if talking to myself while still fighting against my confinement.
“Christophe.”
The voice is soft and breathy. My eyelids immediately fall closed, and my heart rate beats at a rapid pace for entirely different reasons.
“Christophe, it’s me,” she calls again.
Ashley.
She’s here. In this hospital room. This place that for the second time, I started to believe wasn’t real.
“Christophe, can you look at me?” Ashley asks.
My wolf purrs.
“Look at you …” I try the words out on my tongue. The one wish I’ve wanted for what has to be months now, but never once dared to speak out loud.
My one good leg gives out, and I sink to the side of the bed, my back to the door where she must be standing.
I want to turn around more than I desire my next breath. Yet, if I do will she disappear?
Will she be like those 3D simulated images I used to create with my home simulator? Once I reach out for it, my hand goes right through the image, because there’s nothing actually there.
Was Ashley a concoction of my imagination the whole time?
Could she really have been there, that whole time, speaking through the hole in the wall of my cell? Or was she just a figment of a splintered mind?
“Turn around,” she says.
There’s nothing I want more in the world. Which is the worst thing I could want. There’s no future for us. Am I only hurting her more by making such a concession as to look at her?
“Please.” Her whispered plea reaches my ears, and there’s no way I can ignore it.
I push out all of the air in my lungs and twist my body around to finally see Ashley for the first time.
She stands at the door frame.
My gaze starts at her feet. They’re covered in a pair of plain white hospital shoes, oversized light pink cotton pajama bottoms covering her lower half. Same with the top half of her body. The only skin that’s exposed are her arms due to the short sleeves of the top.
But it’s enough to see the warm brown coloring of her skin. A sizzle of something moves up my spine. The anticipation of catching sight of the only wish I’ve had for all of this time.
Slowly, I allow my gaze to move up to her face. A cutely narrow chin, incredibly full, pouty lips that sit beneath a button nose. The most cat-like eyes I’ve ever seen are an incredible shade of cinnamon and ginger. The contrast of the light brown-reddish eyes to her warm tawny skin is startling, yet?—
“Aahhh!” Pain explodes in my head, so hard and so fierce that all of my strength gives out and I topple to the floor.
That face …
I know it.
“Get away!”
Even as I shut my eyes, the image of that face appears over and over in my mind, bringing with it wave after wave of incredible agony.
“Go away! Make it stop! Get away!” I slap and beat my head to try to make the pain stop, but that only increases the pain as the image of that face plays on a loop.
Pain association.
Those are the final two words I can think of before my body goes weak and gives out.