Page 38 of House of Wolves
He sneers. How could I ever have thought of him as handsome? Of course, I know the truth now, and I didn’t before, but looking at him makes me want to vomit. Imagining his lips on me turns my stomach cold. “I’ve thought about it,” he replies. “Hunters raised me, brought me into this world for my powers to be used to stop werewolves’ terror. There were many times I wanted to die.” A sadness slips into his eyes, an emotion I don’t think he meant for me to catch. “But I was smart. I knew my existence could bring good to this world instead of evil. I could use my powers and intelligence to think of a different solution for killing werewolves instead of procreating with them. Do you know how long we have to drug females to get them pregnant? It’s quite annoying with your anti-pregnancy abilities.”
I don’t reply, knowing he’ll continue with his evil villain plans regardless. My theories are correct. “I conducted experiments, devoted my life to finding a way to transfer the power, and finally, I got it.” He smiles, stepping toward me. “Don’t you want to know how?”
“I’m imagining you’re going to tell me anyway.” I want to sit down, my head swimming and the initial adrenaline that propelled me through my prison wearing off, but I straighten my spine, ready for the information this idiot will give me.
“I developed a drug using the menstrual blood of female Weres.” He’s giddy, as if waiting ages to brag about his brilliant discovery.
“What the fuck?”
He waves his hand. “Yes, it’s quite annoying that we must keep them prisoners and collect their menstruation only once a month. I’d much prefer to drain and dump them, but it leads to a more plentiful supply. You bunch put up quite a fight, though. Some of your kind didn’t take too kindly to being kidnapped and, as you know, ended up dead.”
I don’t have a rebuttal. I just stare at him in disbelief. They’re taking our period blood? As if they weren’t psychotic enough before. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, holding my temple. “Why are you taking our period blood?”
“It’s the main ingredient in my serum. The molecular composition of your menstruation can be transferred to humans to give them the powers of Weres without the nasty side effects. Now, we don’t need to reproduce with werewolves to use them as weapons. We can be our own weapons and eradicate werewolves for good.”
I scoff. “You need therapy.” That's the understatement of the year.
Someone opens the prison door, poking their head inside. “Sir, he’s here.”
“Excellent,” Kilo responds, clapping his hands together in glee. “Bring him in. This will be good.”
This will not be good. It’s evident from the giddy smile on Kilo’s face. “I must say, it hurt my feelings that you weren’t as attracted to me as Brick. Not that I’d want to partake in fucking a dog, but you do have an alluring quality about you.”
“Do you vomit when you jerk yourself off?” I ask through gritted teeth.
His eyes roam over me, disdain and disgust that he kept so well hidden all this time. He flicks his gaze to the door. “Ah, welcome!”
I stare at the staggeringly tall man in the doorway, taking in every inch of him, wanting to scream his name. Brick doesn’t look at me, though. He just meets his gaze to Kilo’s.
Kilo approaches him, slapping him on the back. It’s then I notice that he’s not in chains or guarded. My heart drops. Just when I thought Brick could have been wrongly accused, reality barrels through me. I felt something between us, something I’d never experienced. I had let myself get too deep, just like Grimm warned. I was sure that Brick must have felt the same way, too, but now he stands at the entrance of my prison, not even able to meet me in the eye.
Kilo glares at me with a smile, hand still on Brick’s shoulder. “Here she is! I told you. There’s no way she’s getting out. No need to worry.”
Brick nods, looking anywhere but at me. My eyes assess every inch of him, willing to stop the tears from leaving my eyes. I hope there’s a tiny sign of an alternative reality, but he gives me nothing. He’s as stoic as his name suggests.
My shoulders sag. My will to resist, to fight, leaves me. The feeling shocks me. I’ve never been a romantic, never been dependent on a man. Brick isn’t even mine. He never was. I shouldn’t feel such betrayal. I shouldn’t. But it’s like something old and foreign in me cracks open, sucking up my last ounce of hope.
I let the tear slide down my cheek, even as I clench my jaw to prevent me from crumbling.
Kilo catches it. He slaps Brick’s chest. “My, my, Brick. You must pack an impressive package. It seems you got this hard cookie to crumble. You’ll have to show me later. I’d love to see that.”
Brick’s mask falls. He steps away, anger lining his features. “That’s disgusting.” He’s right. What Kilo suggests is repulsing, but I know his words are directed at me.
Kilo moves his hand to Brick’s back, leading him toward the door. “Ah, don’t be a prude Brick. I know you’ve endured fucking her to get more information on Were females, but it’s the least you can do to put a show on for us one last time.”
“No,” Brick says, low and angry. I can’t see his face anymore as Kilo and him are about to exit.
I should charge them and fight out of this cell, but Brick is a much better spy than I am because he succeeded. He broke me. I crumble to the floor, any ounce of my power, my feminine rage, squashed.
17
Pig on the Run
I’munsurehowlongmy sorrow holds me, confining me to my cot in a tidal wave of tears. It’s embarrassing. I don’t see cameras hiding anywhere, but it would be a shitty prison if they weren’t watching me. This isn’t me. I don’t crumble from rejection. Maybe it’s the exhaustion and the pressing weight of my failure, but it feels much more helpless, as if I lost something precious. After what I assume is two nights, based on the timing of meals delivered to my room from the guards, I’ve tired myself of my wallowing. I must devise a plan to escape, even if it’s futile.
I wait until I don’t hear anyone outside of my door before transforming my claws and wedging a long, pointed tip into the space where the door and frame meet. I grow my nails longer, attempting to unlatch something. It’s a stupid plan. Why would they lock me in a room so easy to escape? Kilo’s a Were, at least half-Were. He should know our capabilities. But when something clicks and the door pushes toward me slightly, I nearly shit my pants. I did it. I unlocked the door.
I peer through a crack. No one stands guard on the other side. Could this be a trap, or do they really think I’m so incapable that they’d leave me unguarded? Probably the latter. They don’t think highly of me, and I have been lying in bed crying for the past two days like a heartbroken teenage girl.
