Page 26 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)

Neural activity spiking in unusual patterns, the doctor muttered, more to himself than to her.

He moved closer, studying her intently, and then turned to a female assistant in a matching white coat. Prepare the reset chamber. We need to proceed immediately.

Etta’s terror spiked at his words, followed immediately by defiance.

She would not let them erase her again. Would not let them take Anders from her.

Closing her eyes, she reached for her wolf with everything she had, pushing desperately against the neural suppression.

I am Eliana Thornwood , she told herself fiercely. Daughter of the Silverleaf Pack. Mate to Anders Hamilton .

And I will not be erased again .

The device at her neck sparked in response to her resistance, sending a jolt of electricity through her nervous system.

Etta arched in agony, another scream tearing from her throat.

But the pain triggered a physiological response the device couldn’t contain. Her muscles tensed and spasmed as her wolf fought for control, fur sprouting along her forearms only to recede again, her teeth lengthening, then shortening in painful cycles.

Full suppression! Dr. Mercer barked, genuine alarm in his voice for the first time. She’s fighting the interface!

The female assistant rushed to a control panel, adjusting settings with quick, precise movements.

Neural suppression at maximum capacity, she reported. Interface showing signs of rejection.

Impossible, Dr. Mercer snapped. The interface is integrated directly with her central nervous system. She can’t reject it.

But Etta could feel it happening—the mark burning at her neck as her body fought against the foreign technology. The mate bond pulsed stronger with each moment, fueling her resistance, lending her strength beyond her own.

Anders’s presence filled her mind, his wolf calling to hers across the distance. Keep fighting .

The restraints around her wrists, designed for human strength, creaked as her muscles swelled with the partial shift. Her vision sharpened, colors intensifying as her eyes shifted.

Sedate her! Dr. Mercer ordered, backing away as Etta’s transformation accelerated. Full spectrum antishifter protocol!

The female assistant moved toward a cabinet, but Etta was done waiting. With a final surge of strength, she wrenched her right arm free of its restraint, the metal cuff tearing away from the table with a screech of protest.

In one fluid motion, she ripped free the restraint on her left wrist, then reached down to release her ankles. The lab technicians froze in shock at the display of strength, giving Etta the precious seconds she needed.

She launched herself from the table, her body caught in a partial shift—too human to be wolf, too wolf to be human. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, exposing elongated canines as she faced the people who had violated her mind and body for so many years.

Asset E5, stand down, Dr. Mercer commanded, his voice carrying that same note of authority that had always compelled her obedience before.

This time, however, the mate bond burned inside her like a star, illuminating the chains of her programming and giving her the strength to break them.

My name, she growled, is Eliana Thornwood.

She lunged forward, seizing Dr. Mercer by the throat and slamming him against the wall with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. Her claws pricked his skin, drawing small beads of blood.

You took everything from me, she snarled, her face hovering inches from his. My parents. My pack. My identity. Her grip tightened fractionally. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t return the favor.

Fear flooded his scent, sharp and acrid. You’re not a killer, he gasped. Your psychological profile—

Is obsolete, she finished for him. You have no idea what I am now.

Her wolf howled for retribution, for blood to answer blood. The memory of years of torture, of having her very self stripped away, demanded justice.

But beneath the rage, another voice spoke—quieter but no less insistent. This isn’t who you want to be .

Anders’s voice through the bond, or her own conscience?

It didn’t matter. The truth of the words resonated within her.

She released Dr. Mercer, shoving him aside as she turned toward the door. I’m leaving, she said, her voice steadier now. And you’re going to let me walk out of here, or the next time we meet, I won’t be so merciful.

The female assistant had reached the cabinet and was fumbling with a hypodermic. With preternatural speed, Etta crossed the room to grab the woman’s wrist before the needle could be prepared.

Don’t, she warned, squeezing just enough to make the woman wince and drop the syringe. Where are my clothes?

The assistant nodded toward a locker on the far wall, her fear scent filling the room.

Etta released her, backing toward the locker while keeping both lab technicians in view. Her examination gown provided little protection or dignity, and she was painfully aware of her vulnerability despite her current advantage.

The locker contained not her own clothes but standard-issue scrubs—better than nothing. She pulled them on quickly, her movements awkward due to her partially shifted state.

The exit, she demanded once dressed. Now.

Dr. Mercer had regained some of his composure, though his hand remained at his throat where her claws had broken the skin.

You’ll never make it out of the facility, he said, his voice raspy but regaining its clinical detachment.

Security protocols are designed specifically to contain shifters.

Even if you get past this door, there are three checkpoints between here and the exterior, all staffed with personnel trained to handle enhanced subjects.

Etta tilted her head, a distinctly lupine gesture as she assessed his claim. His heartbeat had accelerated slightly—not lying exactly, but not telling the full truth either.

You forget, she said, I was trained by your program too. As an intelligence asset, I was taught to observe, analyze, and exploit vulnerabilities. Her lips curved in a cold smile. And everyone has vulnerabilities, Doctor. Even your precious facility.

Before he could respond, she moved to the door, listening intently for movement in the hallway beyond. Her enhanced hearing picked up footsteps, but they were receding, not approaching.

The door was secured with a biometric lock—fingerprint and retinal scan. She turned back to Dr. Mercer, who held up his hands and backed away.

No, he said.

You’re right—I’m not a killer, Etta said, moving toward him. So you can either let me out of here, or I can take your eye and hand with me.

You’re making a mistake, Mercer said as she dragged him toward the scanner. The reset protocol is for your own protection. Without it, the neural interface will continue to deteriorate, causing catastrophic neurological damage.

A chill went through Etta at his words.

You’re lying, she said, though doubt crept in. It’s a control mechanism, not a medical necessity.

It’s both, he insisted. The interface was designed to work in conjunction with the chemical suppression. One without the other creates a biochemical imbalance that will eventually lead to system failure.

System failure, Etta repeated bitterly. You mean death.

Dr. Mercer’s silence was answer enough.

He could be telling the truth , Etta thought. Either way, I can’t stay here. I won’t let them erase me again .

Decision made, she forced Dr. Mercer’s hand to the scanner, then held his eyelid open for the retinal scan.

The lock disengaged with a soft click.

Thank you for your cooperation, Doctor, she said, releasing him with a gentle shove that nonetheless sent him stumbling back several steps. I’ll take my chances with system failure over your reset any day.

Then she was out the door…

And on the run.