Page 25 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)

D ARKNESS GREETED E TTA WHEN she first opened her eyes. Not the comforting darkness of night, but the oppressive blackness of a windowless room.

Her head throbbed with each pulse of her heart, and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

Where am I?

The events at her rental house returned in fragments—men approaching, a device pointed at her, excruciating pain as the mark on her neck activated, then darkness as a needle plunged into her arm.

She tried to move, only to discover her wrists and ankles were secured to what felt like a medical examination table. Panic surged through her, and she pulled against the restraints, the cold metal biting into her skin.

Asset E5 showing signs of consciousness, a clinical voice noted from somewhere to her left. Vitals normalizing.

Asset E5. Not Etta. Not Eliana .

A thing. A possession .

The bitter thoughts cut through her drug-induced haze, bringing a sudden clarity. She kept her eyes closed, feigning continued unconsciousness while her other senses stretched outward, gathering information.

A strange feeling rippled through her, something deeper than memory or emotion—a tugging sensation, as if a thread connected her to…

Anders.

The mate bond .

It was real, she realized. Not just wolf mythology or romantic fantasy, but a tangible connection that even now strained against the drugs in her system, reaching for him.

Footsteps approached, followed by the snap of latex gloves.

Prepare for preliminary assessment, the same clinical voice instructed. We need to determine the extent of the chemical deterioration before reset.

Fear coiled through Etta’s stomach at the word reset , but she forced herself to remain still, breathing evenly as she continued to catalog her surroundings.

The antiseptic smell. The soft hum of medical equipment. The whisper of fabric as someone moved nearby.

Neural suppression at thirty-seven percent, a different voice reported. Significant deterioration from baseline.

Increase to fifty percent. We need her conscious but compliant for the assessment.

A mechanical whirring sounded near the back of her neck, and fresh pain bloomed where the mark was embedded. Etta couldn’t suppress a gasp as fire seemed to spread outward from the device, racing along her spine and into her skull.

Ah, there you are, the first voice said, almost pleasant now. Welcome back, Asset E5.

Etta’s eyes snapped open, meeting the cold gaze of a middle-aged man in a white lab coat. His thin lips curved in what might have been meant as a reassuring smile but that only emphasized the emptiness in his pale blue eyes.

Dr. Mercer, she whispered, the name surfacing from deep within her recovered memories.

Her childhood tormentor. The architect of her suffering.

Surprise flickered across his features before his professional mask returned. Interesting. Memory recovery more advanced than anticipated. He made a note on his tablet. When did you first remember my name, E5?

My name, she said, her voice raspy, is Eliana Thornwood.

Dr. Mercer’s eyebrows rose. Even more interesting. Personality integration showing signs of reject—

I am not your asset, Etta interrupted. I am a person. A wolf shifter. Daughter of Alexander and Katherine Thornwood of the Silverleaf Pack.

The doctor stepped back, gesturing to someone out of Etta’s line of sight. Increase neural suppression to sixty percent. Subject demonstrating dangerous levels of self-awareness.

The device at the base of her skull seemed to burrow deeper into her nervous system. Etta screamed, her body arching against the restraints, muscles spasming as the device fought to suppress her true nature.

That’s better, Dr. Mercer said as she collapsed back against the table, gasping for breath. Now, Asset E5, I need you to report. What triggered this memory recovery?

Etta wanted to resist, to spit defiance in his face. But the pain was overwhelming, and somewhere in the haze, she felt something else—a compulsion, a pressure in her mind pushing her to respond.

The newspaper archives, she heard herself saying, the words slipping out against her will. Articles about missing shifter children. Then proximity to A. Hamilton triggered a partial shift response, accelerating chemical deterioration and a memory cascade.

Dr. Mercer nodded, making more notes. As theorized. The mate bond overrode the chemical suppression more rapidly than anticipated. He looked up at her again, his gaze clinical, assessing. What else do you remember? Be specific.

The compulsion tightened its grip on her mind, forcing words through her unwilling lips. The Chimera Program. The experiments. The other children. My training as an intelligence asset. My placement in the Sunburst Pack territory.

With each word, more memories crystallized, sharp and agonizing. Children strapped to tables like the one she was on now. Needles and electrodes and endless pain. Trigger phrases embedded deep in her psyche, forcing her to observe, record, betray .

For the first time, she saw the full extent of what had been done to her—and what she, in turn, had done to the Sunburst Pack.

Every interview, every casual conversation had been a data-gathering operation. Every trust she’d gained had been weaponized, the information fed back to the Chimera Program without her conscious knowledge.

She’d mapped their security vulnerabilities. Documented their pack hierarchies. Identified their strengths and weaknesses, all to serve an organization dedicated to controlling or eliminating their kind.

I thought I was a journalist, she whispered, horror washing through her as the full implications settled in her mind. But I was a spy. A traitor.

You were a tool, Dr. Mercer corrected dispassionately.

He gave a small, satisfied smile. An exceptionally well-designed one.

The integration of your journalistic skills with our intelligence programming created an asset of unprecedented effectiveness.

The data you gathered on the Sunburst Pack has exceeded our expectations.

Bile rose in Etta’s throat. Why? What do you want with them?

Control, he said simply. Wolf shifters represent both a potential resource and a potential threat. Understanding your social structures, hierarchies, and abilities allows us to develop more effective methods of containment and utilization.

We’re not animals to be contained, Etta hissed. We’re people.

Dr. Mercer’s expression hardened. You are evolutionary anomalies with dangerous capabilities. The Chimera Program exists to ensure those capabilities serve humanity rather than threaten it.

And I’m not the only one, am I? You’ve placed others like me in different packs.

Group C has proven our most successful integration cohort, he said. Assets deployed in five key territories, all gathering valuable intelligence on pack dynamics and capabilities.

She’d already known it to be true—and yet the horror of it stole Etta’s breath. Five territories. Five shifters like her, their identities stolen, their bodies and minds violated, forced to betray their own kind without even knowing they were doing it.

She strained against her restraints. The packs will figure it out. They’ll find your other assets.

Unlikely, Dr. Mercer said with the confidence of someone who had anticipated every contingency. Your case is an anomaly, E5. The mate bond was an…unforeseen complication. One that will be addressed in the reset protocol.

The word reset sent fresh terror coursing through her. What are you going to do to me?

Restore you to optimal functionality, he said, his tone suggesting he was discussing a malfunctioning appliance rather than a person.

Chemical suppression will be reestablished at maximum dosage.

Memory pathways will be reset to baseline.

The neural interface will be upgraded to prevent future deterioration.

He made it sound so clinical, so reasonable. But Etta understood the true meaning behind his sterile terminology.

They were going to erase her. Again. Take everything she had reclaimed—her memories, her identity, her connection to Anders—and wipe it away as if it had never existed.

The thought of losing Anders, of forgetting the mate bond that had brought her back to herself, triggered her inner wolf, so recently rediscovered. It surged forward with a ferocity that surprised even Etta.

A growl built in her chest, rumbling outward as her fingernails lengthened into claws, digging into the padding of the examination table.

Fascinating, Dr. Mercer observed, backing away slightly. Partial shift despite neural suppression at sixty percent. He tapped something on his tablet. Increase to seventy-five percent. Prepare sedation protocol if necessary.

The device at her neck pulsed again, sending waves of misery through her skull.

Etta screamed as her wolf was forced back, her claws retracting, the growl dying in her throat.

But something else was happening now—something unexpected.

As the pain crested, the tenuous thread of the mate bond suddenly flared to life, burning bright through the haze of drugs and neural suppression.

Anders .

She could feel him—distant but unmistakable. His rage at her suffering, his absolute refusal to let her go. The connection strengthened with each heartbeat, pushing back against the device’s attempts to subdue her true nature.

Fight it. I’m coming for you. Hold on .

It wasn’t his voice—but she understood the meaning nonetheless as it echoed through her mind. The sensation was so startling that Etta gasped aloud, her eyes widening.

Dr. Mercer’s head snapped up from his tablet. What is it? What are you experiencing?

Etta remained silent, turning inward to focus on the bond, clinging to it like a lifeline in a storm.

I hear you , she thought desperately. They’re going to erase me. Reset me. I can’t —

Yes, you can , came his unspoken response, even more powerful now. You’re stronger than their technology. Your wolf is fighting. Keep fighting .