Chapter 1 #2
Ariel remembered back to when Dr. Grimm gave her the life-changing offer: he’d heal her as long as she went along with anything he asked, including giving up a whole leg.
He’d use the limb to develop the right concoction to fiddle around with her genetic code, completely resolving her childhood illness while also leaving her with some new gifts.
He enhanced her venom—which was why FUC had made her wear a mask until they’d pumped her full of an antivenom so she couldn’t go around killing others—and gave her the ability to shift her hormone levels so she could change her appearance to look older than she chronologically was.
Apparently, reverse aging was beyond Dr. Grimm’s capabilities, though, as she couldn’t make herself look younger. Pity.
But best of all? He’d cured her genetic condition.
Before she met the doctor, Ariel was spending a lot of time at the hospital and could barely stay awake.
A chance at a “normal” life was what she’d traded for her real leg, which she’d never missed because the prosthetic leg Dr. Grimm designed for her was full of weapons and helpful gadgets.
It had all seemed a fair trade, at the time, anyway.
Now, the regular prosthetic leg FUC supplied left Ariel second-guessing it all.
She had to often meet with the FUC doctor to adjust the fitting.
She had skipped her first appointment, and the blisters that ended up forming on her thigh were not worth it.
Now, the fit was better, but the regular inconveniences were still there, like the hassle of having to put the prosthetic on before she could go anywhere—especially annoying when she wanted to go use the washroom in the middle of the night.
It had her finally wondering if maybe her decision to donate her leg to Dr. Grimm was a rash one.
But if she could find where FUC was keeping the gadget, things could be different.
She smiled as she envisioned the possibilities.
Maybe by the time she found her prosthetic, Grimm would have formulated a rescue plan to get her the hell out of there.
Though, as the last year had ticked by, she’d started to lose hope.
It didn’t seem she was going anywhere anytime soon.
Ariel sighed as she turned another corner to watch cadets excitedly rush to class.
What was the appeal? The new wave of incoming cadets were all like Joline, brimming with excitement just to be there.
Ariel would give almost anything to be out of the WANC building and back with Dr. Grimm.
She glared at the group of cadets as if the fervor for FUC was contagious and she needed to protect herself with an armor of disdain.
A familiar figure appeared around the next corner, stopping Ariel in her tracks and making her wish she’d wandered down a different hallway.
Gabrielle Crowe’s black wings—an unappreciated gift from Dr. Grimm—were on full display, even in her human form.
Ariel recalled Grimm’s displeasure at the way the bird shifter rallied against the change.
How Gabby resisted fawning over the doctor’s genius was beyond her understanding.
Instead, Gabby had acted like it was some kind of curse.
Ariel had figured Gabby would’ve been discharged from WANC by now, considering it had been just over a year since she’d escaped Dr. Grimm.
But it was taking time for FUC to find appropriate new homes for those with permanent partial shifts—places where they wouldn’t be seen by non-shifters.
And that was only if they were even ready to be released from rehabilitation.
For a moment, Ariel thought it possible that the crow shifter didn’t know who she was—she couldn’t remember having any direct contact with her while working for Dr. Grimm.
But the steely blue eyes set in the woman’s pale face said otherwise, as did the ruffling of her black feathers, and the fact that, instead of quietly passing Ariel, Gabby stepped in front of her to block her path.
Then, Gabby leaned in and whispered, “You b-better… be-behave.” The crow shifter’s trade-in for her gifts was her speech ability.
In Ariel’s opinion, it was a small price to pay for the beautiful wings she now had.
“You m-may… have others f-f-fooled.” Gabby narrowed her blue eyes at Ariel as if trying to squish her with her eyelids. “M-my eyes… on y-you.”
Before Ariel could reply, the crow shifter continued walking down the hallway, her giant wings a fluttering shadow behind her.
Great, just what I need, more eyes on me.
Since Gabby wasn’t fooled into believing that Ariel was happily adjusting to life at WANC under FUC supervision, it would make Ariel's attempting to sneak around WANC at night that much more difficult. At this rate, she’d never find the leg Dr. Grimm gifted her.
Ariel sighed as she looked at her watch.
It was almost time for group therapy, her least favorite thing about the rehabilitation program FUC was running.
Therapy alone would be grating, but the fact that the group members were former experiments of Dr. Grimm made it that much worse.
She had to sit there and keep an impassive face while listening to them all talk about how horrible they believed Dr. Grimm to be.
Well, at least none of them were those she’d helped to capture, or even ones that she’d been tasked with watching while they were imprisoned.
She had to wonder if Paige Brennon, the counselor, had made sure of that.
Group didn’t make sense to Ariel. She could never understand why anyone would want to share their deepest, darkest secrets in front of strangers.
Though, in her opinion, it was just as awkward in individual sessions with Paige, and Ariel had gotten to know her pretty well in the past year.
She groaned. Ariel couldn’t imagine spending another year with these people.
Why hadn’t Dr. Grimm tried to rescue her yet?
Last summer, FUC apprehended Ariel when she’d tried to turn her brother, Anson, back to Grimm’s side.
Dr. Grimm hadn’t intervened to finish the job of nabbing her brother or to rescue her from FUC, but why?
Surely he had to know she wouldn’t turn on him, like Anson had after FUC captured him.
Was Dr. Grimm waiting for her to turn Anson back to their side?
Maybe that was it, maybe he was respecting her mission, and waiting for her to complete it before he liberated her.
She had no choice but to assume what the doctor would want her to do.
Unfortunately, Ariel had made exactly zero progress on the Anson front.
When FUC had first arrested her, she’d resisted getting close to Anson out of spite—to send her brother a message—but as time passed, her defiance had become something else.
Fear, maybe. That thought scared her even more.
Why would she be afraid to talk to Anson if he was the brainwashed one?
She’d easily be able to defend her position and choices.
So what was that fear really all about? She didn’t dwell on it.
Tried not to think about it at all, actually, and instead did the next best thing.
If she couldn’t face Anson, then the least she could do was try her best to get the agents to doubt her brother, who was now an official consultant on any case involving Dr. Grimm.
If Dr. Grimm was watching from afar, he’d know she was still loyal to him.
But day after day, she waited for a sign that he was plotting her escape, but no secret notes appeared under her pillow at night or on her food tray, like she’d seen in the movies.
So, she did her best by pretending she was cooperating with FUC, when, in reality, she was waiting for a jailbreak.
At least FUC no longer kept her in a cell. They let her stay in the dormitory with the cadets and other ex-experiments who were being rehabilitated. Of course, that was only provided she kept her ankle monitor on and charged at all times.
Ariel turned the next corner toward the therapy wing, wondering what the group topic would be today.
With any luck, it was something she could add to without divulging anything too personal.
Ariel learned quickly that if she kept silent, Paige would either put her on the spot to talk or threaten her with an extra group that week.
She had to come up with something to add to the conversation.
So far, she’d done a good job of dodging the topics by speaking on how challenging it was for her to adjust to living at WANC.
Ariel found that keeping close to the truth without sharing anything of value seemed to work best. That way, she could play along, and the counselor wasn’t the wiser.
Otherwise, Paige was a hound on the trail of an escaped prisoner, trying to ferret out feelings and personal tidbits Ariel had no desire to share.
Dragging her feet, Ariel reached the large wooden door labelled Group Therapy Room 3. With a deep breath, she opened the door and glanced at the whiteboard that noted their topic for the day.
Shit. It was not going to be an easy session, that was for sure, because Paige had written in giant letters: Understanding Family Relationships.
Paige met Ariel’s gaze and canted her head, her glossy black hair shining from the overhead lights.
With a wicked smile, Paige said in a sweet voice, “I wanted to choose a topic you could relate to.” That smile said it all.
Ariel wasn’t fooling Paige with her act.
Not one bit.