35. Zazu
Chapter thirty-five
Zazu
An unhappy grumble vibrates continuously through my throat as I stare down at the strange, hard bandage on my arm. I’ve had injuries plenty of times. Usually, they pinned me down and dug pale string through my skin. I’ve had bandages before, which go over the sewn-up skin. But this hard box around my aching arm is a foreign kind of torture.
New territory, new injuries, new treatment.
I grind my teeth on the hard stuff at the end closest to my hand. Maybe I should chew my whole arm off instead because the inside itches me to death. I lick at it but can’t get inside. My smallest finger can reach part of the way, and I whine softly in relief as I scratch, but the itching moves deeper, like a living, crawling thing, leaving me in agony. I snap at the sensation, bruising my lips on the solid white bandage. The edge crumbles a little and I try again.
I don’t understand what’s expected of me anymore. Strange thoughts flood my head with no way to process them.
A Beyond exists outside this room. The alphas in this not-pack change, some taken away. The superior one left and hasn’t come back, and it makes me vibrate constantly, always wary of a new threat that never comes. I want to feel the heat on my face to warm my bones again, but this block on my arm says I failed the territory challenge.
I glare down at my empty fingers. Next time I need to hold something in my hands. Something solid.
Noise rattles under my scalp. I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the irritation, but I can’t wobble it loose. I growl and knock my head against the wall, but that only adds blinding lights behind my eyes. My growling sets off the other not-pack members in the room.
The free alphas stroll between our cells. “They’re sure worked up today.” One glances through my bars, and I rush at him, snapping, imagining his soft skin giving way under my teeth and nails. The blood would be warm.
“Fuck,” he hisses, garbled sounds pouring from his sneering mouth. “This one’s losing his mind. If it wasn’t for those Goody Two-shoes and that omega matching, he’d have been put down already.”
Their words make no sense to me, but I detect a threat in the speaker’s tone. I growl in warning. When I get loose, I’ll tear his throat out.
The second male rolls his eyes, and I square up in case it’s a challenge. “Yeah, well, we just have to put up with it until they get re-homed or whatever.”
The first one scoffs. “Who’ll have a psycho like him? Better off relieving the system of the burden. The warden’s on the right path, trying to lose a few through the cracks.”
They peer into my cell from a safe distance, leaving me trembling with the need to meet a challenge, but no way of doing so. I throw myself at the wall again, growling. How do I shed this pressure?
His partner’s voice drifts down the corridor. “I’m sure it’ll all die down. That omega has her matches, so they’ll go on their merry way and forget about the rest soon enough. And the psych’s coming in soon to go through this one’s case. Look, he’s beating his head against the wall. Be more humane to put him out of his misery.”
“Yeah, doesn’t look like his cast will last long enough for that break to heal either. I’ll write up a report.”
They continue down the walkway, and I lose sight of them. An ache flares through my chest. I’m a fighter; that’s what I’m supposed to do. So why is no one putting me in a ring with the other alphas? Instead, alphas come and go, occupying cells near me or that yard outside.
Has this strange place given up on defending pack territory?
I slink to the narrow bed and sit with my back to the wall, curling my knees up until I’m in a tight ball. Air huffs through my nostrils, meaning I’m alive, not dead, but what else do I have? I butt my head back against the wall again and let out a whine.
If I can’t fight, what am I supposed to do?