Finding Fate (Wildheart Pack #3)

Chapter 1

Addison

My wrists are bound. I feel each thread of the rope as it digs into the sensitive skin. My ankles are tied to the corners of the table with my arms over my head. I fight against my restraints as much as I can, but no matter how hard I try to break free of these ropes, I can’t.

I hardly remember the last time I wasn’t restrained like this.

If it’s not the ropes holding me to the table, it’s the oversized metal collar wrapped around my neck at all times. It’s thick and heavy, and on days when they weaken me, I can hardly lift my head because of it.

The door opens, and I try to crane my neck to look at the man who enters. I don’t see him until he’s standing right over me.

Dr. Hendricks. He stares down at me with his cold, steel gray eyes and his lips turned in a twisted smile that makes my stomach curdle.

“How’s our patient doing today?” He brushes his hand down his stark-white lab coat that’s draped over his thin frame. His hair is blond and slicked back with a shiny oil that almost makes it glow white in the dizzyingly bright overhead lighting.

His hand moves to his pocket, and my entire body goes tense.

I know what’s about to happen before he pulls the needle out.

I thrash against the restraints, hoping to break free once and for all.

His eyes move to a tall, broad-shouldered guard standing in the corner of the room.

Carlisle is one of the cruelest of the bunch.

He walks toward me and presses his hands firmly against my shoulders, pinning me flat to the metal table. I grit my teeth and stare up at him, studying every hard line of his weathered face to commit it to memory.

I don’t understand how they could be so cruel, how they could see someone else in pain and do nothing to help them.

“Thank you, Carlisle,” Hendricks says. His footsteps approach the table, and he stands right beside me, his neck bent to look down at me with the same smile he wore. “You’ll feel a slight pinch.”

“No!” I shout, shaking my head as fast as I can. I try to scoot away from him, but the guard presses down on my shoulders even harder. “Please, not again!”

My pleas go unanswered as the cap falls off the syringe and the doctor pulls my arm toward him. His fingers press against my vein before the cold metal of the needle breaks my skin.

He was right, I do feel a little pinch.

But that’s immediately followed by an intense burning that floods every cell in my body all at once. I’m no longer struggling against the guard because it takes everything in me to keep my eyes open while I feel like I’m being burned alive.

Every hair on my body stands upright, and I arch my back, letting out a scream that comes from deep within me. Even a brief scan of the room shows the guard wince at hearing it.

“It burns!” I cry out in what feels like an endless fashion. “Please make it stop!”

I repeat myself over and over, hoping that with each syllable, they’ll come closer to stopping this torture. They’ll finally see that whatever they’re doing here is wrong, and they’ll let me go.

All I want is for them to let me go.

But nothing ever grows from that hope. It’s just a dream that will never come true. I should have learned by now never to hope for anything. Otherwise, I’ll only live with disappointment. I’ve attempted to escape before, but I never get far.

The burning in all of my limbs eventually subsides after what feels like hours. When it’s over, I feel the moisture on my forehead, and every muscle in my body aches like they do after the doctor puts me on the running machine for hours.

It hurts to breathe. My throat is raspy from screaming, and every painful moan that creeps out of my lips is torn to shreds by the time anyone can hear it.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the doctor asks, the smile faded from his lips, and his voice was grim.

I want to insult him. Actually, I want to break free from these ropes and slash my overgrown fingernails across his face just to see him bleed. I want him to know pain like he’s forced upon me.

But I’m too weak for any of that. My body is limp against the table, and the guard isn’t even standing over me anymore because he knows there’s no point. I’ve been completely weakened by whatever was in that syringe.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice weak.

“Take her back to her room,” the doctor orders.

Before I know it, my restraints are being undone, and I feel a spark of hope in my chest, thinking I might be able to escape. The moment the thought crosses my mind, it fades away when I feel just how weak I am.

My entire body feels like the slop, rubbery noodles they give me for dinner on “special occasions.” I can barely lift my arm, much less use it to fight back against the guard who’s nearly three times my size.

Instead, he carries me away with great ease as he walks me through the blinding white hallways toward my “room.” Room is a generous term for the small, barred cell they hold me in.

I dropped down on my cot with little care about being gentle. It takes a lot of effort for me to roll over and watch the guard leave the room, locking the door behind him.

As soon as the door is closed, my eyes grow heavy, and I can’t help myself as I pass out.

I don’t dream. I rarely do after they give me the serum.

Normally, I wake up in the morning when a small tray with my breakfast is slid through the slit in the door, and I ravenously eat it because of the hunger that grows every morning without fail.

But tonight is different.

My eyes jolt open, and I sit up suddenly in bed, the pain in all of my limbs feeling like nothing more than a memory.

I feel something else. Something stronger.

It’s like there’s another rope on me, this time latched to my core and trying to pull me toward something I can’t explain. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

Could this be a part of the serum?

Something shifts inside me, bringing me to my feet. I’ve felt this before. The clawing.

I’ve never been positive about what it means, but I know this is what the experiments are about. This is why I’m here.

Every time I feel it, the collar around my neck grows heavier. When I’ve escaped in the past, it’s been on foot. I remember the first time was while they were transferring me to the lab. I slipped out of a guard’s hand and made it as far as the fence on the property before I was grabbed.

I was thirteen. That was five years ago.

Ever since, the collar has never been taken off.

But with this tug of the invisible rope around me, I know I need to leave.

I’ve known for a while, but this feels tangible to me for the first time.

Like something is calling to me that I can’t quite explain yet.

It makes me think there’s actually something out there for me. Something to run to. I have to leave.

Hours pass as I think of my plan, the light from the moon outside the small window in my cell slowly transitioning toward the sun. Footsteps down the hall tell me the morning has finally begun.

I collapse on the ground beside my bed, curling into a ball as small as I can make it. I hold my fist against my stomach and cry, moaning and mumbling under my breath.

The footsteps come to a halt outside the door, and I don’t need to look up to know it’s Miriam, one of the caretakers, with my breakfast. “Everything hurts,” I cry out, my voice still hoarse from yesterday. It helps to make me sound more ragged as I struggle.

“You poor thing,” she whispers under her breath. She sets the tray down, and her footsteps hurry away.

Today, I’m glad it’s Miriam. The others might not have cared the way she does. Miriam has always been one of the good ones. I don’t stop what I’m doing because I know that cameras are on me. If anyone’s watching, I can’t let them know this is all a lie.

More footsteps approach—Miriam, I think, and one of the other guards. I hear the jingling of keys and the metal door of my room sliding open. They don’t close it behind them.

I still feel the pull that woke me up in the middle of the night. Whatever the sensation clawing at my insides is growing stronger with every second. Feeling this roiling up inside me gives me a strength I never knew I had.

The guard kneels beside me, ready to scoop me up in his arms and carry me away. Before he has the chance, I hook my arm around his neck and squeeze it as tight as I can. I grit my teeth and hold my breath as his fingers dig into my arm to try to pry them away.

“I’m leaving,” I grunt as I squeeze my arm tighter.

It’s not a warning to him; it’s something I repeat to myself so I don’t give up.

I’m leaving. They won’t be stopping me again.

The guard’s face is bright red, bordering on purple, by the time his body falls limp in my arms. Miriam is screaming behind me, and I know it’s only a matter of time before more guards come running to stick me with another needle that will make me pass out.

I have to move quickly. I drop the guard on the ground, and his body spills the clumpy oatmeal Miriam prepared for me all over the concrete floor.

As soon as he’s on the ground, I reach for his keys.

More footsteps are coming down the hallway, and the chaos of all the guards trying to figure out what’s happening.

My fingers are on the key ring, and I grab it and escape. I dart down the opposite end of the hallway, looking over my shoulders briefly to see a group of three guards all chasing me. I don’t slow down.

My muscles ache with every step I take, and I try every key on the ring desperately as I move. Red alarm lights flash around the hallway, and an almost deafening shriek comes from the overhead speakers. At the end of the hall, I see the bright red exit sign.

I try one of the keys in the lock on my collar. My heartbeat quickens as I feel it slide inside the keyhole, and as I turn it, the collar unlatches.

For the first time in years, I feel the air around the sensitive skin of my neck. I want to enjoy it, but I can’t. Not while three guards are barreling down the hallway behind me.

The collar drops to the floor with a loud thud that everyone can hear.

“Stand back!” one of the guards shouts behind me.

I don’t understand why. But I’m not going to slow down and question it. Not when the exit is so close.

My bare feet slap against the floor with a furious rhythm as I burst through the exit door, blinding myself by the bright rays of morning light.

I wish I could take a minute to appreciate the grass between my toes and feel the warmth of the sun against me, but five other guards are barreling toward me from other directions as soon as I walk outside.

I still feel the pull. The familiar clawing sensation inside me begs me to get out as quickly as I can.

I don’t look for a gate or a door to leave.

I dash straight toward the tall metal fence that’s been holding me hostage since I was eight years old.

The only thing visible behind it is a dense patch of woods.

If I can get over that fence, I can get into the woods and follow this pull. It has to lead me to safety.

“Shoot her!” a guard shouts beside me.

In my periphery, I see someone raising a weapon at me. I’ve seen it before, and it’s been used on me countless times. A sticky electric patch would land on my skin and have me on the ground, thrashing within seconds.

But not today.

I dodge it, quickening my pace with every ounce of power I can summon. When I’m close enough to the fence, I launch myself at it. I’m surprised by how high I can jump and how quickly my fingers lace through the chains to bring me toward the top.

I cry out as I grab the barbed wire at the very top. They dig into my skin, and I see blood dripping from my hands.

My instinct is to let go, but I fight against that.

I still feel that invisible rope tugging me into the woods, and I can’t ignore it.

Guards gather below me, some trying to climb the fence behind me while others pull weapons out of their holsters.

But soon enough, my feet dig into the sharp wire, and I launch myself off the top.

I can’t explain what happens next. The feeling I’ve had in my chest for so long, the clawing that I never quite understood, grows stronger and stronger.

Before I reach the ground, I feel it bursting out of me.

The next thing I see is gray fur sprouting below me, like the paws of a dog.

I look over my shoulder to see the guards all stopped, watching with their mouths wide open.

My thoughts are chaotic, and all of my senses are heightened.

I don’t waste time. I run, feeling how fur covers every inch of my body, and my speed is vastly increased in whatever form it is I’ve taken.

I run until I can’t run anymore.