Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Kain
The text I sent to Anne looks lonely on my screen, marked as delivered, but not read.
Normally, she would have texted back by now. I could call her, but to be honest, her not responding is a small mercy in this situation. I don’t know what I’d tell her. What excuse would be good enough to explain why I’m too busy to see her tonight?
I rub my hands over my face, exhausted. Without the antidote, I’m not going to last long here. I need to come up with a plan to deliver Violet to the organization.
I’m still thinking when my office door opens without a knock. My head snaps up, and I see Ethan, Darius’s right-hand man, standing there.
I get up from my desk slowly. “Ethan, is something wrong?”
That’s when I see them.
Four members of the Alpha’s Guard enter behind Ethan, their expressions hard and ready. Silver handcuffs gleam in one guard’s hand.
My blood runs cold. They know.
“I think you know why I’m here,” Ethan says quietly, and there’s something in his voice—disappointment, maybe anger—that confirms my worst fears.
For a split second, I consider playing dumb. Asking what this is about. Demanding explanations. But my training kicks in before conscious thought does.
I vault over my desk, aiming for the open window. It’s high off the ground, but I’ll survive if I shift mid-air and break my fall by grabbing the side of the building with my claws. Even if I get injured, it’ll be better than whatever’s waiting for me in the pack prison.
But I don’t even make it to the window.
The guards are fast—much faster than I anticipated. The first one catches my arm, yanking me back. I spin, driving my elbow into his face. Bone crunches. He staggers to the side.
The second guard is already there, grabbing for me. I duck under his reach and sweep his legs. He goes down hard.
But there are still two more, and they’re not trying to arrest me amicably anymore.
A fist connects with my ribs. Air rushes out of my lungs. I twist away, catching the third guard with a knee to his gut, but the fourth one gets me in a chokehold from behind.
I throw my head back and feel it connect with his nose. His grip loosens enough for me to break free.
My office is chaos. The guest chair crashes over. Papers go flying. Someone’s blood—mine or theirs, I’m not sure—spatters across the floor.
I’m holding my own, but barely. The poison has weakened me more than I realized. My movements are slower than they should be, my strength flagging.
And then, Ethan enters the fight. A quick punch to my kidney drops me to one knee. I try to rise, but two guards are on me instantly, forcing my arms behind my back.
The handcuffs click into place.
The burn is immediate. Silver against bare wolf shifter skin, searing into my wrists. I grit my teeth and groan.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Ethan says calmly.
I test the cuffs anyway, straining against them even though the pain makes me hiss.
The guards haul me to my feet, their grip on my arms tight enough to bruise. My ribs and back ache where I was hit. My wrists are on fire from the silver. And the poison is spreading through my system unchecked now, feeding off my exertion.
“Move,” one of the guards orders, shoving me toward the door.
They march me out of my office and into the hallway. People have gathered in other doorways, drawn by the noise. Shocked expressions all around.
I’m glad Anne doesn’t work on the same floor as me.
Everyone’s eyes are on me, and I can already see the gossip mill turning. It won’t take long before news of my arrest reaches Anne. She’ll probably try to call me, then rush over to see Violet to find out what happened.
Fuck! How did I get caught?
The elevator ride down is silent except for the guards’ breathing. Ethan stands in front of me, his back rigid.
When we reach the parking lot, they lead me to a reinforced transport van, the kind used for dangerous prisoners. The back doors are already open, waiting.
One of the guards pushes me inside. I stumble, barely catching myself before hitting the metal floor. The handcuffs make it impossible to balance properly.
They chain my cuffed wrists to a bolt in the floor. More silver. More burning.
The doors slam shut, plunging me into darkness.
The van starts moving. I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the cold, metal wall.
Where did I mess up? I thought I was careful. Did I get sloppy because I was distracted by Anne?
No one has said anything to me. What are the chances I’m being arrested for some other reason?
I get no answers until I’m in the dungeons, in my cell.
It’s small. Concrete walls, concrete floor, with a single, barred window high up near the ceiling.
Silver-reinforced chains hang from the wall.
The guards remove my handcuffs, but my relief lasts exactly two seconds before the chains are locked in their place.
These are worse than the cuffs. Heavier. My natural healing tries to fight the burn of the silver, but my wrists will be permanently raw as long as I’m here.
The guards leave, and the cell door closes. The lock engages with a heavy thunk.
I’m alone.
I pull at the chains experimentally, testing their give. They’re anchored deep into the concrete wall, professionally installed. Even at full strength, I’d struggle to break free.
And I am not at full strength.
The poison is getting worse without my painkillers. There’s a grinding ache in my bones that never stops, a fire in my chest that makes every breath hurt.
I have maybe two weeks left. Three if I’m lucky.
I run through everything in my mind. The phone call with Rick in the parking lot. Going back to my office. Sending that text to Anne about being busy.
Anne.
The thought of her finding out the truth—that I used her, lied to her, manipulated her feelings—makes my insides ache in a way that has nothing to do with the poison.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. The cell door opens with a heavy, metallic groan.
Darius walks in. There’s no explosive anger, just cold, calculated fury wrapped around him like armor. He’s flipping through a manila folder in his hands.
“Kain Ashford, 27, five years’ special security training in Oak Shadow Pack.” The words could be conversational, but his voice is like ice. “Solid track record, great resume.”
He turns a page, still not looking at me.
“I did have people look into Oak Shadow. I thought I had covered all my bases. I had no reason to doubt their word, but now I wonder how deep your organization goes.” His eyes lift to meet mine, and there’s nothing casual about the look in them.
“They were quite thorough in creating your new identity, but nothing is flawless if you dig deep enough. It seems the people you claimed to have worked alongside in Oak Shadow Pack have never seen you before. All I had to do was circulate your photograph.”
He closes the folder with a soft snap that sounds too loud in the concrete cell.
“Who are the people you work for?” His voice is still calm, still controlled. “And what do they want with my mate?”
I say nothing. Keep my expression blank, my breathing even. Standard protocol for interrogation: give them nothing.
Darius nods slightly, like he expected this response.
“It’s pretty brutal of you,” Darius says, his voice deliberately cruel, “to use your own mate as a tool to capture someone.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “I don’t know if Anne will survive this.”
My blood runs cold, and the word rips out of me before I can stop it. “What?” There is no training that could stop my natural reaction to hearing that my mate is in danger. “What do you mean, she won’t survive? What’s happened to her?”
Darius tilts his head at me coldly. “What did you think would happen to your only known accomplice?”
“Let me see her,” I demand, pulling against the chains hard enough that fresh blood runs down my wrists as the silver cuts deeper. “Anne is not an accomplice!”
“Isn’t she?” Darius closes the file. “She’s the only person you’ve interacted with outside of work, and her status as one of my wife’s best friends makes her quite a suspect. I always did find it odd that she befriended Violet so quickly. Maybe you two have been working together all this time.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I glare at Darius. “She is not involved in this.”
“That is for me to decide.” Darius’s expression doesn’t change. “One of you will break. My bets are on Anne.”
“Don’t you dare!” I lunge toward him with all my strength, but the chains don’t give. “Don’t you fucking touch her! She has nothing to do with this!”
My wolf surges to the surface, and a feral howl tears from my throat. The sound echoes off the concrete walls, primal and desperate.
Darius remains unbothered, watching me writhe and thrash.
“We’re about to get started with her in another cell,” he says evenly. “If you don’t want us to do anything to her, why don’t you volunteer the information yourself?”
I open my mouth to tell him everything, anything to save Anne, but as soon as my decision is formed and the words are on the tip of my tongue, sharp and excruciating pain explodes behind my eyes.
It’s as if someone is driving nails through my skull from the inside.
I gasp, the agony making my vision blur.
It’s the conditioning. They built fail-safes into us. Attempt to betray the organization, and your own body fights you.
I force myself to try again, pushing through the pain. “They’re—”
The pain intensifies, a white-hot spike through my brain. I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
I can’t. I can’t say it.
Darius watches me with a disgusted expression. “You won’t even protect your mate? That’s how little she means to you?”
“Shut up, you bastard!” I snarl through gritted teeth, sweat clinging to my skin. “You don’t know shit. I—”
“No problem.” Darius turns toward the cell door. “I’ll see what I can get out of her.”