Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
There’s no wheelchair waiting for me today. It seems leadership has decided I can manage without it. They aren’t wrong, but I prefer the wheelchair. I’m preserving my energy and strength as best I can.
Daniel leads me down the corridors, his pace almost too quick to comfortably follow. I still don’t know whose side he’s on—if he’s on any side at all.
He doesn’t speak. He’s waiting for me to, but I don’t give him the satisfaction.
Behind me are the footfalls of the guards. They’re loud as they talk amongst themselves. I eavesdrop, but they aren’t discussing anything worth knowing.
They disperse as Daniel turns away from the double doors that lead to medical. Is he not taking me to see Bells?
Why?
My heart lurches as Daniel swipes his ID card, then hits the button for the second floor. I haven’t had access to this floor since I was eleven. There’s nothing but conference rooms, a cafeteria, and a gym on this level. There are some offices, too, but I’ve never visited them.
“Leadership has permitted you to eat in the cafeteria,” Daniel finally says, breaking the silence. “Just for today, by my request.”
“Why?”
Daniel shoots me a quick glance, then looks away.
I don’t for the life of me understand why he bothers. Leadership has me in a fucking cell. They’re playing mind games, and I’m having trouble understanding the role I’m meant to play.
Daniel leans against the wall as the elevator ascends, his feet kicked out and crossed at the ankles. He’s typing on his phone, and he locks and shoves the device in his pocket before meeting my gaze.
“You’re taking me to the cafeteria?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I glance at the ground before frowning and licking my lips, hoping to look disappointed. “I thought maybe I was being moved into a housing unit.”
The old Evelyn would’ve been eager to get away from Adam. She’d hate being stuck in a cell with a shifter, forced to share a space and bed with him.
Daniel shakes his head. “I tried, but leadership refuses.”
“Why am I in the cell?” I ask. “I’ve done everything they asked. Is there information or something specific I should be trying to get out of the shifter? I’ve been given no direction.”
The elevator doors open. Daniel shakes his head, signaling the end of our conversation as he leads me to the cafeteria. I never thought I’d step foot in this room again, and my palms grow sweaty as I glance around.
Sunlight streams through the tall windows, illuminating the space.
Only a few employees are lingering about, most sitting at tables with coffee and laptops.
There are no soldiers, nor anybody in white coats or with red ID cards.
These are non-clearance employees. They have no idea what happens on the floors below.
A clock hangs above a door. It’s 9:30 a.m.
Knowing that feels like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
There’s a kitchen in the back of the room. I walk through it, loading up a tray with eggs, fruit, sausage, and two containers of milk. I need strength.
Daniel is silent as I eat, but he watches me with unnerving intensity. I still don’t know what to make of him. He’s helped me a few times, but I don’t get the feeling that he’s on my side.
“I’m doing my best to have you moved into a private room,” he says. “I don’t want you alone with that shifter once we begin testing.”
My chewing slows, and I clear my throat before forcing myself to swallow. Testing. I knew this was coming, and I won’t bitch and moan about it. I can’t without drawing attention.
“What kind of testing?” I ask.
Daniel licks his lips. I drink my milk.
“When do they plan to start?” I ask instead.
Daniel sighs. “Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Panic surges, the emotion sharp and intense. I know what Daniel means by testing. It’s torture.
The pain in the back of my hand flares.
Caleb has awful timing.
I force myself to laugh. “Well, good luck getting anything useful from him. I read in one of Alpha Knox’s reports that shifters like Adam keep poison in their teeth in case they’re ever captured.
” I take another sip of milk as I struggle to come up with something, anything, to say.
“He’ll probably swallow it the minute you begin testing him. ”
Daniel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. I meet his eye and hold it, needing him to believe what I’m saying.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” he asks.
I shrug, struggling to ignore the burning in my hand. It’s crippling, and my fingers threaten to curl into a very unattractive claw.
“I haven’t been given the opportunity to,” I point out. “Leadership didn’t seem too interested in hearing what I have to say before throwing me in the cell with that shifter.”
Daniel falls silent.
I continue. “You can probably scan his jaw to figure out where the poison is.”
Anything to get Adam into medical with Bells. As far as I’m aware, they’re the only people in the building capable of giving X-ray scans.
Adam’s smart. I have to trust he’ll be able to figure something out when he meets her.
Daniel runs a hand through his hair. He looks frustrated, his lips pursed and bushy eyebrows furrowed.
“Is there anything else we should be aware of?” he asks.
“Not that I can think of.” I shrug. “But having the privacy of my own room might help me remember.”
Daniel pulls up his email and types out a message, but I can’t make out the words. I hope it’s about bringing Adam to medical. And about moving me out of the cell.
I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to say when they realize Adam doesn’t have poison in his tooth. I’ll act shocked. There isn’t much else to do.
The pain in my hand stops. I hope Caleb has taken the lack of response as a hint that now isn’t a good time.
Daniel shoves his phone into his pocket and stands. “Let’s get you to medical.”
About fucking time. My pulse quickens before I can stop it. Is Adam’s scent still on me? I hope so. I was always so sensitive to Caleb’s scent.
Daniel glances at me, his gaze too heavy to be casual.
I slow my breathing, evening it out, then rise. “Very well. Lead the way.”
Daniel’s strides are long as he brings me to the same room I was brought to yesterday, and I bite at the inside of my cheek as I sit on the edge of the hospital bed. When his phone begins to ring, he rips it from his pocket with impressive speed.
“I need to take this.” He levels me a sharp look. “I’ll be right outside this door.”
He’s gone a second later, and I peer around the room to ensure no personal items have been left behind like before. There’s nothing. I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, counting the tiles until the door opens and Bells enters the room.
Her blue hair looks extra vibrant today, and her dark roots have been covered. I stare, and an intense wave of anger washes over me.
While Adam and I are being held in an underground cell, HPAW employees are living their lives as if nothing is wrong. They get their hair done and have a grand fucking time, enjoying themselves with salaries made from our shitty treatment.
“Good morning, Evelyn,” Bells says.
I dip my chin but otherwise don’t respond. It’s not her fault. She’s being used and lied to just as I was, but the sight of her still makes me angry. I hate everything her life stands for, and I think Adam deserves a better mate.
My eyelids flutter shut in a slow blink.
I’m being resentful. I shouldn’t do that.
She checks my ruined marking, poking and prodding at my tender flesh until I hiss and pull away. Then she draws some blood—for reasons I can’t fathom. Daniel doesn’t return to the room. His phone call must be important.
“Are you still going to wash my hair?” I ask.
Bells nods. She’s labeling my blood sample, and she types something into her tablet before setting both aside. I try, and fail, to remain patient as she pulls a plastic package out of a drawer.
“Yes,” she finally says, facing me. “This is a shampoo cap. I will—”
I interrupt. “Can I shower instead?”
This room has a small en-suite bathroom. I pointedly glance at it.
Bells hesitates, rocking back on her heels. She’s going to turn me down. She wants to wash my hair with a shitty fucking shampoo cap, but I’m hoping to have time alone with her in the bathroom. This room is filled with cameras.
“Please,” I beg. “I’ve been living with animals and need to scrub the wet dog smell off.”
Bells glances at the door, then sighs. “Fine. But we have to be quick.”
She leads me into the bathroom, preparing a shower chair while I strip down to my underwear.
My wounds are feeling better. My head hardly aches, and the stitches on my chest only hurt when I twist or turn in certain directions.
The back of my hand burns like a bitch, but that’s mostly Caleb’s fault.
He probably doesn’t know I cut my marking off.
I practically shove my dirty clothes into Bells’s arms. When her nostrils flare, I’m certain she’s smelling Adam. She does an excellent job pretending nothing is amiss, though, as she sets the clothing aside and pulls back the bandage on my chest.
The skin is significantly less inflamed than it was yesterday.
“I’m excited to get the smell of shifter off me,” I say.
Bells raises a brow, and her lips purse before she gives a curt nod and reaches for the showerhead. I glance at the bathroom door. Is Daniel still on the phone? I don’t want him to overhear our conversation.
“I’m sharing a bed with him,” I continue.
Bells frowns, her throat bobbing. She’s upset. She may not understand why, but I’m willing to bet she’s aggravated that I’m sharing a bed with the man she smells on me. The bond should have her feeling possessive of him, even if she’s never met him. I hope it does, at least.
She points to the in-shower chair.
I don’t hesitate to lower myself into it, genuinely excited to be clean. It’s been days. I’ve grown odorous. She hands me a washcloth, and I make quick work of scrubbing myself down before letting her work on my hair.