Page 16

16

Lab Pig

A beep drags me out of an endless darkness. I’ve had my fair share of blackout nights, requiring me to investigate before understanding where I fell asleep, and at first, I think this must be my situation. I don’t remember drinking too much, but no one ever does immediately after they come to. Bright fluorescent lights needle their way into the thin skin of my eyelids, and I cover my eyes with my hands, slowly bringing them away as the pain lessens.

I sit before taking in the room around me. My neck and back hurt like a bitch, probably due to the cold tiled floor underneath me. I open my eyes, examining the sterile white room. White tiles cover every inch, and a metal cot with thin white bedding sits in the corner, parallel to a metal toilet.

Panic washes over me. I rise to my feet, cursing as I wobble, but my fear steadies me, and I approach the white door, attempting to turn the handle. It’s locked, of course. I pound against the surface, screaming for someone to let me out. This reaction is purely instinct, not based on any intelligence. Memories drip into my brain about where I was last before I blacked out.

I attempt to shift, hair rising at my arms and my ears elongating, but I’m still woozy from the drugs and unable to change completely. It wouldn’t matter anyway. As I walk the perimeter of the small room, pounding and kicking at every surface, I realize there’s no way out, even for a werewolf.

I flip my cot over. It’s stupid; there won’t be a hidden set of keys underneath, but my panicked brain must assess every nook and cranny in this room before accepting defeat. When I’m about to curl into a ball and cry, the door clicks, and I flip to the source, using all my skills to bare my claws.

In walks two men in all black wearing heavy-duty vests over their chests. Their expressionless faces and the batons topped with coil wire in their hands give away their status. They’re security, the muscle of whatever’s happening here.

“You must calm down, Carmen. You’re going to hurt yourself,” says a familiar voice behind the mass of muscle. The two men part, revealing Kilo wearing a white lab coat, his hair gelled back more than usual, and an alarmingly smug smile plastered across his handsome features.

“Kilo, what the fuck?” I step toward him, and the men’s batons burst to life, revealing electricity in the coils.

Kilo steps forward, unafraid of me, as he walks around my perimeter. It outrages me, but I don’t want to react rashly. Curiosity controls all my attention. He sighs. “Must I spell it out for you?”

“Why don’t you humor me? It seems you locked me in a cage. It’s the least you can do.”

He sighs, taking a seat on my bed. “For your pack’s star warrior, I’d thought you’d catch on sooner. It seems your brother did when he fed me the information about that girl being home alone and not sharing that it was a set-up meant for Brick.”

So it wasn’t Brick who informed the Hunters. I can’t help that my heart soars at this news. I’m locked in a cage, still feeling the effects of drugs, and yet all I can focus on is my elation that Brick isn’t working against the pack. Kilo’s words bring me back to reality. “I think this is penance enough for his trickery.” I can only hope Cameron doesn’t know about my capture. Of course, I want my freedom, but Red’s due any day. He needs to focus on her.

“So what? You’re a traitor to your own race? Working with the Hunters because you hate yourself?”

He laughs, shaking his head, sitting at the edge of my cot. “Would you fault someone born with an incurable disease, one that causes uncontrollable rage and to behave like an animal? If that person dedicated their whole life to ensuring no one would suffer the same fate, would you not call them a hero?”

“Being a werewolf is not a disease.”

He stands, circling me again. “You and your people are confined to solitude, feared by masses, unable to control your primal urges during periods of the year.”

“I have always been able to control myself just fine.”

Kilo removes the distance between us, tracing the underside of my chin. “You sniff people. You behave like a dog. A pretty dog, but a dog nonetheless.” I snap at his finger, my fangs beared. He moves away from me faster than humanly possible because, of course, he’s not a human. “There you go, proving my point again.” Rage boils in my blood, but I have an ounce of my wits left. I can’t just attack him blindly. He’s also a werewolf, one without drugs running through his veins. He could overtake me in a second. I need to play this strategically.

“I didn’t choose to be a werewolf,” he drones on, walking around me with his hands behind his back. “I was cursed with this affliction and have decided to dedicate my life to eradicating this disease. But there’s only one way to do that: kill the existing werewolves.”

“Why don’t you just kill yourself? Help everyone in this world.”

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.