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The room tilted alarmingly, the aftereffects of the tranquilizer still lingering in her system. She gripped the edge of the mattress, waiting for equilibrium to return. Whatever they'd shot her with had been potent—designed for wolf metabolism, not human.

The connection in her chest pulled tighter, like an invisible string connecting her heart to Kieran's. His emotions sharpened—determination cutting through pain. His wolf was closer to the surface now, she could somehow tell, raw and primal in its focus.

"I need to get out of here before he gets himself killed trying to rescue me," she whispered to the empty room.

Maya forced herself to stand, gripping the IV pole for support. Three unsteady steps brought her to the door—stainless steel with no interior handle.

The door suddenly buzzed, making her jump back. The metal panel swung inward, revealing a diminutive woman in a white lab coat. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and her calculating eyes.

"Ms. Collins," the woman said, her voice surprisingly melodious for her stern appearance. "Please return to bed. You're not strong enough to be mobile yet."

Maya backed away. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"

"You're in a secure medical facility within Granite Ridge territory." The woman closed the door behind her with practiced efficiency. "As for what we want—" Her eyes flicked to the bite mark on Maya's neck, lingering there with unmistakable interest. "That's a rather complicated answer."

Maya backed against the wall, the thin hospital gown providing little protection against the woman's clinical assessment. "I'm not interested in whatever this is."

"Back on the bed, please." The woman gestured with a clipboard. "Don't make this difficult."

"Difficult?" Maya laughed, the sound brittle. "I was drugged and kidnapped. I think we passed 'difficult' several exits back."

The woman's expression didn't change. "I'm Dr. Sonya Blackwell. I'll be overseeing your tests while you're our guest."

"Guest?" Maya's scientific mind recorded everything about this Dr. Sonya—trim build, late forties, fingers stained with chemical residue, no wedding ring, and eyes that noticed everything but revealed nothing. "That's what we're calling captives now?"

Dr. Sonya sighed, pressing a small button on her wristband. "Compliance assistance needed in Room 5."

The door swung open immediately. A man with shoulders like mountain ridges stepped in, his presence reducing the already small room to claustrophobic dimensions.

"Ms. Collins refuses to cooperate." Dr. Sonya's tone suggested this was merely a technical problem requiring a technical solution.

Maya darted for the space between the man and the doorframe, desperate for escape. His hand shot out with inhuman speed, catching her arm and lifting her as easily as a ragdoll.

"Let me go!" Maya thrashed against his grip as he deposited her onto the bed. Her feet connected with his ribs—might as well have kicked concrete.

"Hold her steady, Vance." Dr. Sonya prepared an IV line with methodical precision, tapping a vein in Maya's forearm.

"What are you doing?" Maya's voice rose with panic, the needle hovering above her skin. "What tests are you performing? Answer me!"

Vance pinned her arms while Dr. Sonya slid the needle home, taping it securely. Restraints came next—thick padded cuffs binding her wrists and ankles.

"These precautions are for your safety," Dr. Sonya said, checking the restraints.

"Safety?" Maya pulled against the bonds. "You haven't answered a single question. What tests? Why am I here?"

Dr. Sonya connected the IV to a bag of clear fluid, making adjustments with the focus of someone tuning a delicate instrument. "The High Council would prefer I limit explanations until we have results."

"Results of what?" Maya's voice cracked as Dr. Sonya began attaching monitoring electrodes to her chest, temples, and wrists.

Instead of answering, Dr. Sonya reached for a small vial of amber liquid. She injected it directly into the IV port.

"What is that?" Terror clawed up Maya's throat. "Tell me what you just put in me!"

"We're activating certain dormant genetic markers." Dr. Sonya settled into the folding chair and opened her notebook. Her pen hovered expectantly. "Now we wait."

The burning started in Maya's fingertips—a prickling heat spreading up her arms like wildfire through dry brush. Her skin felt too tight, her muscles clenching involuntarily beneath the surface.

"Oh god." Her back arched against the restraints as waves of intense heat pulsed through her body.