Chapter 68 Maddy
MADDY
The man beside me kept the hypodermic gun shoved painfully into my side for the entire drive. My ribs ached, and all I wanted was for him to take the fucking thing away. It was almost a relief when I saw the airstrip appear through the windshield.
This wasn’t a commercial airport. It was a small strip about twenty miles away from Clearidge. I didn’t even know this was here. A small jet airplane sat out on the tarmac. The steps had been lowered, and two men holding guns stood on either side of the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?”
Viola turned toward me and answered with nothing more than a smile, then turned back, and we continued the rest of the way in silence.
The car pulled through a chain-link fence and parked right beside the plane.
If I got on that plane, the odds of Nico finding me fell to almost zero, but there was nothing else I could do.
I dug down deep and mentally screamed at my wolf, begging her to help.
Now was the time to shift. If there was ever a time that I needed her help, this was it.
Instead of feeling her strength flood through my body, I felt the fear of a young girl.
Being so near the royals actually made her fall even deeper into herself.
All I could feel from her was terror and anxiety.
The anger and rage she felt toward them were not enough to overcome the horror of being in their clutches.
So, instead of my hands turning to claws and my jaw becoming a weapon, I was just a human.
Weak, bound, and captured. I sighed, and even in my disappointment, I tried to let my wolf know that I didn’t blame her.
The door opened, and the man beside me blessedly pulled the hypo-gun away from my ribs.
He twisted a hand in my hair and yanked me out.
Electric sizzles of fire shot through my scalp as he pulled.
My feet shoved and scrabbled at the floor and the seat in front of me—anything to keep the pressure off my hair.
I pushed myself out and fell onto the tarmac.
The same man leaned over to grab me again, and I snapped my teeth at his hand, just nipping his finger. He yanked his hand away, yelping in pain. “Asshole,” I hissed at the man.
“Oh,” Viola cooed. “She does have fight in her.” She knelt and put her face right in front of mine. “I like when they fight.” Viola stood and turned. “Bring her.”
The men grabbed me under my arms and lifted me, carrying me toward the plane again.
My toes banged on each stair as they hauled me up.
Once inside, they tossed me into one of the big leather chairs, and one of them snapped out a knife and sliced off the zip ties on my wrists.
I gasped in relief and rubbed at the red indents the plastic had left in my wrists.
It was a small plane. There were only eight seats—all plush, overstuffed leather. Instead of all the seats facing forward like a commercial plane, each of the two seats of four seats faced each other, with four facing the cockpit and four facing the tail.
Toward the back were a bathroom and a small attendant area, and up front were the two pilots.
Even from here, I could see that the pilots had pistols in their shoulder holsters.
Viola took the seat directly in front of me, crossing one immaculate leg over the other, and began typing into her phone.
The other seats were filled with the guards.
A male flight attendant appeared to lift and secure the stairs and door.
He also had a gun on his hip. Did everyone have a gun?
Did Viola? I didn’t see how the skin-tight blazer and skirt could conceal a gun.
Within minutes, the jet taxied to the end of the runway, and the screaming noise of the engines roared.
I was pressed back into my seat as the plane gained speed, and then the jet was in the air.
My jaw clenched as I heard the landing gear pull up and stow away.
There was a finality to that sound that I didn’t like.
“Oh, Duncan?” Viola called to the attendant.
“Ma’am?” he said, giving her a deferential bow.
“Can I get a glass of Dom Perignon?”
“Of course, Ma’am. Um, anything for our guests?”
Viola glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. As much as I didn’t want anything from this woman, I could feel my anxiety building with each passing moment. I needed something to take the edge off. “Whiskey, straight up.”
Duncan nodded and disappeared. Viola frowned. “Whiskey? How very… butch.”
I shrugged. “I like what I like.”
Duncan arrived a few moments later with the drinks.
The first sip of whiskey hit my throat, and it was the smoothest thing I’d ever drunk.
I blinked and looked at the glass. I’d never had anything so good in my life.
The bartender’s curiosity overtook my anxiety and worry for a moment.
I held the glass up and looked at Viola. “What the hell is this?”
She lowered her champagne flute and raised an eyebrow. “That? Oh, I think it’s a Macallan. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a 1926—probably a million-dollar-ish bottle. That glass”—she pointed a bright-red manicured nail at me—“is north of fifty thousand dollars.”
I almost gagged, and my hand rattled. I grasped the glass with two hands to make sure I didn’t drop it.
I stared at the amber liquid and tried to imagine having enough money to pay fifty thousand dollars a shot.
I looked at her again. “Why do you all even want the treasure if you already have so much money?”
Viola took another sip. “Darling, first things first. One, you can never ever have too much money. Second, I’m asking the questions. Let’s begin, shall we?”
“Begin?” I asked dumbly.
Ignoring me, Viola leaned forward. “Did you exhibit any shifter symptoms during childhood?”
“What? No. No, I didn’t.”
“What about puberty? Did you reach sexual maturity earlier than any of your peers?”
“Huh? I… I don’t—”
“Never mind. When engaging in sexual activity, have you ever experienced a desire to bite or claw your lover?”
“What the fuck are you—”
“Please, answer the questions.”
I huffed out a breath. “No. I’ve never wanted to bite anyone while we were having sex.”
Viola nodded. “Did you ever have any contact with your grandparents? Biological, that is,” she added.
“No, never.”
“Hmmm. Did your birth mother ever make contact with you while you were a child?”
Did I mention the fact that she was my pediatrician? Or all the letters she sent? Probably not. I shook my head. “No. What is all this about?”
Viola leaned back into her seat and finished her drink. She waved the glass, and Duncan appeared to retrieve it. “Just trying to connect some dots, dear. There are many things about the Hollander line we don’t know. Much was lost in the Purging.”
“You mean when you murdered dozens of innocent people and children? Is that what you call it? The Purging?”
Viola shrugged. “One of many names. It was long before I was born. Why should I care what happened to a few shifter babies three hundred years ago? Honestly. Do you weep over the children that died when Hannibal went to war with Rome? Do you wring your hands about all the women who were raped when the Christian army sacked Jerusalem? Or even more recently, do you have a vested interest in how the war prisoners were treated during the American Revolution?” She shook her head and pursed her lips.
“I think not. What’s past is past. Nothing to be gained by crying about what can’t be changed. ”
I gaped at her. “Are you really that heartless?”
“Again, darling, we aren’t talking about me. It seems there are many secrets about you. We did, of course, do a background check on you, but Kenneth did a good job of hiding things. Very unfortunate that he kept so many secrets to himself.”
I felt a jolt of sadness at the mention of my uncle’s name. The nightmarish image of him getting shot in the head flashed through my mind. “Don’t say his name.”
Viola raised her eyebrows. “What? Your blood uncle? You mean the man who sold you out to us for a chance to become a shifter? That’s the name I shouldn’t say?
” Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “What can I say? He knew too much and wasn’t sharing all he knew.
If he ever truly believed we’d let him become one of you”—she curled her lip in disgust—“things, he was out of his mind. Now, tell me about the beast inside you. What is it like?”
I slammed the last of the whiskey back and tossed the glass to the floor. I’d hoped it would shatter, but the crystal was too thick. Instead, it thumped down and rolled against one of the guard’s feet. “I’m not telling you shit,” I spat.
“Maddy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“I have nothing to say because I’ve never met my wolf, Viola.”
For the first time ever, Viola looked taken aback.
Her face went a bit ashen. “You… um… but you are a direct descendant of Edemas. Your wolf should be incredibly strong. You…” She looked away and paused like she was thinking.
“You’re saying you’ve not made contact with your wolf yet?
Not shifted or spoken to her? You are an alpha, correct?
” There was a strange desperation in her voice.
I liked hearing it and decided to lean into that worry.
Why should I be the only one who was scared?
I shrugged. “Maybe? Who knows?” I knew I was an alpha, but there was zero reason for me to give that information over to Viola.
She looked distraught and fidgeted in her chair. Viola chewed at her lip and stared blankly at the floor for several seconds. “If this doesn’t work, I’m screwed,” she murmured to herself under her breath.
I sat motionless as though I’d heard nothing.
It was a relief to see the veneer of invulnerability crack a little.
After a few seconds, Viola gathered herself, and the haughty exterior returned.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as the Edemas blood is concentrated enough, it should be successful. Regardless of whether you’ve shifted or not. ”
“The treasure is obviously a secondary objective. Why is this vial so important to you? What good is shifter blood to a human?”
Viola was still as a statue as she studied me. It was almost like she was dissecting me with her eyes, slicing away every layer of my skin, probing each of my organs, examining my soul. Then she said, “That’s not really any of your concern, is it.” A statement, not a question.
“I don’t know if you remember or not,” I said, “but you need my blood to open the vault.”
Viola smiled back at me with a sickly sweet expression. “Yes, my lovely. Though I could just slit your pretty little throat and bleed you dry. That works too, no?”
I remembered my father’s journal entry about the dream he’d had about Edemas and the witch.
I knew Edemas would have thought of that.
I grinned back. “I think you and I both know Edemas would never allow his blood to be taken by force. If you kill me and take the blood, it won’t work.
That’s why none of this has worked all these years.
You’ve murdered your way through the centuries.
You stole and took the blood of men, women, and children, and nothing has opened the vault.
I need to give my blood freely to open it.
That,” I pointed at her for emphasis, “is what you’ve finally figured out, isn’t it?
I know of the curse and about the witch Edemas hired. I know more than you think.”
Viola stared at me, unblinking. The look on her face never changed.
The smile was as perfect and white as always, but the eyes?
The eyes told me all I needed to know. She wanted to tear my throat out.
I had no doubt that if I weren’t so valuable, she would.
The perfectly coiffed and polished exterior hid an inky-black twisted monster.
Then her smile vanished, and her shoulders relaxed.
“Fine. I suppose you can hear the truth. Did your precious Kenneth tell you of the healing properties of werewolf blood?”
She bounced back and forth so quickly that I always seemed to be caught off guard. I blinked and shook my head. “The… what?”
She bobbed her eyebrows up and sighed. “Thought not. You see, ancient legends told of the power of werewolf blood. There were stories of injured werewolf kings in battle having their blood smeared on their warriors’ wounds, and they would heal.
It was even greater for humans. It is said that a single drop of werewolf blood, when ingested by a human, can heal any wound or sickness.
My organization—er, family—want to break down this blood.
Take the vial, study it, and synthesize the healing properties.
Can you imagine what people would pay to be healed of any sickness?
Tech billionaires? Presidents and prime ministers? What would they give to live?”
“But you already have so much money. This seems like overkill,” I said.
Viola leaned forward and bared her teeth at me.
“Again, silly girl. You. Can’t. Have. Too.
Much. Money.” She smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes and leaned back, regaining her composure.
“But not only money. The power? We would hold the power of life and death in our hands. Plus, that blood can also create more werewolves—ones who would be under our control. What an army that would be! Any government on earth will give us whatever we want. We would become the true power behind the scenes. The real Illuminati, if you will. What person would try to bring down or stop the only people who can offer a chance to conquer death? We may not be a real royal family anymore, but we still have the ability to reign. I may not be a true queen, but I still sit on a throne.”
I shook my head in disgust. “So, this is all about profit and power. Nothing more?”
Viola gave a short bark of a laugh. “What more is there?” She waved a hand at me. “Take a nap, child. We’ll be in Germany soon.”
With that, the conversation was over. I glanced out the window and watched the clouds drift by as we flew six hundred miles an hour through the sky, propelled forward toward my fate.
I wondered if Nico had any clue where I was being taken.
Would he even have the chance to get to me before it was too late?