ASPEN
“I’m pretty sure I found one of them bitches you’re looking for. You were right about following those agents.” A man sits across from Devlin, twitching anxiously. The harbinger of doom—saying the words I’ve been praying not to hear.
Though these monsters often tell me detailed stories of how they killed my sisters, I’ve known all along they were lying.
If my siblings were dead, I likely would be too… what a mercy that would be.
My ears perk up, but I remain as still as possible, unmoving in my cramped metal cage. There’s barely any clearance to sit up, and certainly no space to lie down or stretch out. My neck is cricked awkwardly to one side, twisted enough to make the muscles strain and throb, but I dare not complain.
Though it’s uncomfortable, my minuscule prison is the only place I’m safe. When I’m locked behind the reinforced steel bars, Pack Mordred often forgets I exist. The torture and brutality stop, if only for a little while.
Pay attention, Aspen.
My mind floats, fuzzy and exhausted, from earlier. Try harder. Ignoring my bloodstained thighs and painful arms, I do my best to focus on Leather Vest’s simpering.
Holding my breath, I remain stock-still, wanting to absorb every drop of information while not drawing any scrutiny.
“Well. Are you going to show me the image or waste my time?” Devlin hisses impatiently, and the man shakes violently. Leather Vest fumbles for his phone, trembling as he passes it to the ferocious Pack Modred Alpha, then waits, his knees knocking together.
The silence in the room becomes deafening. As Devlin zooms in and out of the picture, his motor-oil scent takes on a slimy feel, indicating his volatile emotions.
“What do you think, boss?” the other man whispers. Taking an enormous risk, I peek at them from under my lashes. Don’t get caught. Don’t get caught. Just looking at another person can get me a beating or worse. But I have to know who’s spying on my sisters.
The man is average-sized—perhaps a beta?
And there’s no clear scent from here—at least not one strong enough to cut through the slimy motor oil Devlin’s tossing off.
His leather vest has tags all over it. One over his heart says, “President.” I’m not sure what it means, but I stow the information away.
Anyone who’s helping this evil pack track down my family needs to go down.
I add this man to the burn book in my mind.
“She doesn’t look the same,” Devlin grunts, rubbing at his barely there beard before pressing a button. The intercom system crackles to life. “Come in here. NOW.”
The hunt for my sisters has been a major topic of conversation lately. Living underground with no amenities is growing old, and Pack Mordred is restless and frustrated. Desperate.
Please let there be someone watching over her. Someone strong, and kind, and good. Because the hate-fueled demons are closing in, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop them.
This place is hell. But them being trapped, too, would destroy me.
The stomping of feet reaches my ears, and I clutch my hands together on my knees to quell my shaking. When the entirety of Pack Mordred gathers, pain follows. Stay still. Disappear. Disappear. Disappear…
The door bursts open, and the sickly stench of their combined scents barrels into me: motor oil, blood, decay, gasoline. I bite my tongue, using the coppery tang to stop myself from retching.
“What’s going on, Devlin?”
“Everything all right?”
“Have we been found?” They speak at once, shouting over each other in a cacophony of voices, the soundtrack to my misery.
“Silence,” Devlin commands, never once raising his voice. “Look at this. Tell me what you see before I share my opinion.”
They wait eagerly, hyenas ready to gnaw flesh off bone, as the phone passes from hand to hand. Muted whispers break out until the image reaches Bates, the scentless beta whose cruelty knows no bounds. At first glance, he whistles low in his throat, bringing everyone to attention.
“It’s definitely one of them. Not the youngest. I think he’s found the oldest bitch, the piano one whose hands we smashed.” Bates passes the phone to the other beta, Vincent, who squints at the screen.
“Her hair color’s different now, and her eye color is wrong. Bitches have them silver Banyan eyes, but that’s an easy change with contacts. White-blonde hair’s now black.” He mumbles all his thoughts out loud as dread curdles my insides.
“Could be the twin, but I thought the eldest, too.” Devlin agrees. “But you two and Malachi were her primaries while we had her. If this really is Wilhemina, it’s a big fucking deal. She’s the one who’s supposed to testify against Malachi in a month.”
His words set off an eruption of grumbles around the room. A palpable rage hangs in the atmosphere, a heavy weight that makes breathing a struggle.
“Wilhemina or Ophelia. It’s the former we really need. Silencing her before the trial is our best chance—no witness, no conviction. Malachi can come home.” The man in the leather vest sits taller in his seat, realizing he’s done well.
“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it, boss,” he promises, eyes filling with a dark glee. Evil always finds a willing host.
“My pack and I are going to discuss the plan. For now, let’s see you rewarded.
” The man’s eyebrows furrow as he waits for the other shoe to drop.
I sense the fear coursing through him, the worry that his reward won’t actually be a reward.
He’s right to be afraid. Devlin nods to Kage, who leaves and returns a moment later, towing a scared omega behind him.
Poor Linny.
“She’s yours for the evening, but we want her back alive and able to work tomorrow.” There’s a sternness to the Alpha’s voice, and Leather Vest blanches before nodding.
“Yes, boss. Thank you.” He stands, reaching for the omega, but he pauses and swings back around. “What about the drugs? The guys’ll kill me if I don’t ask.”
Devlin laughs jovially before clapping him on the shoulder.
The man winces, freezing with fear, but Devlin agrees, “Yes. And since you’ve done such a good job, if you keep the sister under surveillance and send me regular reports, I’ll even be willing to do a sixty-forty split. You get the bigger cut.”
“Anything. Anything,” Leather Vest stammers as he’s ushered out the door with Linny. “Let Kage show you to one of our rooms where you can enjoy your bounty.”
“What does Butterfly think?” Luther practically purrs, and my heart thunders as their soulless eyes fall on me. “Which sister have we found?”
The image is thrust in front of the steel bars, and I can’t help but stare helplessly.
Oh, Willow. My big sister, fierce protector, and the person who gave us all “tree” nicknames when I was five, and the boys at school mocked me for being named after one. In the picture, she’s walking dogs beside a friend, head tossed back in laughter. My heart aches with longing.
“Tell us,” he insists, and I shake my head, knowing they’ll bark the answer out of my unwilling lips soon enough. “Wilhelmina or Ophelia. Say the name, broken butterfly. Be honest, and we’ll leave you alone today.”
It’s so tempting. Give them her name and save myself the torment… You can’t protect her, anyway.
“Rot in hell.” I gulp, knowing that resistance is futile. They’ll do whatever they want to me and more. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. Nothing I can do to escape—I’ve tried.
The lock on my cage inches out. The snick slithers poisonously through my senses. I want to cry, but my tears dried up a long time ago.
“You’ll be singing her name before we’re through with you,” Devlin promises, and I’m sure he’s right, but not willingly.
Rough hands yank me out, and their scents thicken with excitement.
Maybe this time they’ll go too far. End my time here…
Please don’t let me survive it.