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WREN

Water slammed against my ravaged body. The liquid was so cold it felt like being stabbed by an infinite number of knives. But I still tried to catch some with my mouth. Just a tiny mouthful, anything to quench the burning thirst cracking my lips and throat.

Everything hurt.

It was the kind of pain that rivaled the worst my father had inflicted on me. The type that penetrated even my shifter abilities. Because, at some point, it’d become too much for my wolf.

I’d called on her when I first woke, trying to shift so I could tear the assholes limb from limb. But they hadn’t just stabbed me. They’d also drugged me. And whatever they kept injecting me with made it so I couldn’t call on my wolf half.

More than that, it made me fuzzy and unable to pull together a plan to escape. The fuzziness was fading slightly, though, which was good. I would have a few precious minutes to gather intel.

But the clarity also meant that I felt every ounce of pain.

My clothes hung off me in tattered slashes of fabric. My white tank top was stained with a mix of red, rust, and pink blood, in various stages of drying, coating the material. At least my jeans hid the worst of it.

My legs trembled and nearly gave way, but I sent all my strength to them, trying to stay upright. If I didn’t, it would be so much worse.

A hook hung from the ceiling of the empty warehouse, its attached chain making squeaking noises with every tiny movement I made. The monsters had chained my wrists and hung me from it. If my legs gave way, my arms would pay the price. Again.

Just thinking about it made my shoulders ache. One had already dislocated before the man they called Angus popped it back into place. It was the one time I hadn’t been able to hold back my scream.

I scanned the room around me, squinting into the dark. The darkness reached out with clawing tentacles, trying to strangle me. I fought back the panic and fear, focusing instead on the tiny sliver of light sneaking under a door in the far wall.

It was my only comfort now.

Pain racked my body, but it wasn’t from the many wounds. It was much worse.

It was the agony of rejection.

Kingston’s face flashed in my mind. The hurt. The betrayal. The accusations.

Brix’s haunted eyes swirled in my imagination then. The confused pain.

And Ender. The sheer pleasure at finding the evidence he’d so desperately wanted. His triumph.

A single tear slid down my cheek. It was all I could allow myself—a tiny flicker of weakness before I shored up my defenses.

Focus, Wren.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around the room again and used the physical pain to keep me in the here and now. I had no memory of the monsters bringing me here. Didn’t know how long it had been. One day? Two? More?

There were no windows to give me a clue as to where we were or what time of day it was. Nothing about the building itself gave me any information either. I pulled some air in through my nose, trying to tap into my fading shifter senses.

I could smell my blood, the metallic tinge coating my throat. But I tried to search past that. Motor oil, grease. Pine. Lake water.

It could’ve been countless places. And the truth was, it didn’t matter if I couldn’t get free.

As if the Universe were taunting me, the sound of motorcycles filled the air. My body began to tremble. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it because my muscles knew what was coming.

The sounds cut off in waves, replaced by rough voices until the hinges on a door squeaked. I caught flashes of fading daylight. A gravel lot. And those bikes I’d heard.

Massive overhead lights flicked on, and I blinked against the vicious beams, the ache already thrumming in my head intensifying.

“Well, whaddya know? The Diablos’ bitch is still breathing. I’m a little disappointed, boys.”

I squinted, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the brightness. Angus. He wore one of those leather vests. The emblem on the back alone would’ve had me steering clear. Death Walkers MC. Below it was a skeletal face, with its mouth open in a silent scream. On the front, Angus’s patch read Pres .

He was undoubtedly their leader. Likely because he had the most meanness in him. His hair and scraggly beard were a mixture of red, brown, and gray. But his eyes? They were pure black.

I’d never seen anything like it in a human. But this man didn’t smell like the supernatural world. No, he’d given his soul to the darkness, free and clear.

A dozen or so of his brothers spilled in, taking their places around him and joining the handful he’d left with me. They all knew enough to keep their distance and watch their tone.

Angus’s boots clomped on the broken cement floor as he strode toward me. My body began shaking again. I hated the weakness. The fear. But I couldn’t control it. I could only control my choice not to cower.

I lifted my chin and met the man’s dark gaze.

He laughed. “She’s got fire. I’ll give her that.” Angus pulled something from his pocket. Slowly, he unfolded a knife. I could still see hints of my blood on the blade.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Angus’s fingers were stained black with grease and blood. His knife was just an extension of him.

Angus ran the tip from my chin, down my neck, and between my breasts. “Have you ever considered they don’t deserve your loyalty?”

A few of the braver guys let out sounds of agreement.

“You would be beautiful if not for all the scars. They must be the ones who gave them to you. Why protect them? I’ll kill them and make it hurt.”

My mouth went dry as I pictured the guys.

Their faces swirled in my mind, each grabbing hold for a handful of seconds before fading into the next.

But my mind ended on Locke’s. His face stayed.

The tender looks that swept over him. The way his gray eyes softened behind his glasses. How he would do anything for me.

My wolf let out a keening noise within me. She wanted her mate. Her mates . Even the ones who’d rejected her. Though she’d likely rake her claws over their flesh once she recovered.

“What’s the matter?” Angus singsonged.

“She probably had a stroke,” another of the guys called, laughter in his voice. “She’s been hanging there for four days.”

Four days?

I’d lost at least two. The only thing that broke up the time was when they unhooked me and took me to a disgusting bathroom. But even that didn’t seem to come in any expected pattern.

Angus traced the blade lower to my belly, occasionally pricking an open wound. “I’d almost respect her stubborn streak if I didn’t need something.”

Without warning, the blade was gone, only to be slammed into my side with brutal force. The air left my lungs in an audible whoosh as pain flooded my system. Lights danced in front of my eyes as I bowed forward, the chains around my wrists pulling taut.

My wolf snarled, wanting to be free. I tried to call on her and shift, but whatever drug they kept giving me was still too strong in my system.

“Tell me what they are,” Angus growled.

He knew. Not the guys’ true secret, but he knew something was up.

“It’s fucking aliens,” one of the bikers yelled.

“Shut up,” Angus snarled, and the man snapped his mouth closed. The MC president held the knife pointed right at me. “Something isn’t right about those Diablos. We know they’re here, but we can never find their property.”

“Cloaking,” a deep voice said. “Gotta be some top-secret government shit.”

Angus looked at the massive man as he considered that possibility, then turned back to me. He pressed the knife in right over my ribs. “Do they have some sort of tech hiding them?”

I didn’t say a word, my eyes watering as the burn in my ribs intensified.

“Where. Are. They?” Angus snarled.

I’d never tell him. It didn’t matter that half of them had abandoned me, rejected me, or thrown me away like nothing more than trash. I’d never betray them. I’d never be what Ender had accused me of.

Angus pushed the blade deeper into my body. “Tell. Me.”

Lights danced in front of my eyes, and the room went blurry.

“I’ll get it out of you, bitch. And I’m gonna make it hurt.” Angus twisted the knife.

I screamed. And then the torture started all over again.