Page 39 of Midnight Bond (Wolves of Midnight #5)

I didn’t respond, not that I could even if I wanted to—which I didn’t. If she wanted my approval, my support for torturing werewolves, she wouldn’t get it. I knew all about feeling broken and wanting to fix myself, but no cure could justify treating others like this.

Besides, there was a huge flaw to her plan. It was the celestial spirit residing inside a hybrid that gave them their magical abilities and superior strength, allowing them to shift whenever they wanted. Without that spirit, they were the same as any other werewolf, including their DNA.

Injecting a human with hybrid blood wouldn’t transform them into a hybrid. It would simply turn them into a werewolf, the kind that shifted with the full moon every month.

Not that I would tell her that. If Dr. Sloane knew the truth, she would have no more need for me or Jagger. And if she no longer needed us, I heavily doubted she would just set us free. More than likely, we’d be tossed into a cage and forgotten about. Or worse—killed.

No way was I helping this woman destroy our lives more than she already had.

When all I did was stare at her coolly, she resumed tapping on her tablet, completely unfazed.

After a few minutes, the wolf within me stirred, growing increasingly restless the longer we were tied down.

The full moon wasn’t for a couple more days, but just like last month, she didn’t seem to care.

Other than when Jagger had tied me up in the barn, being subdued terrified her, and now that he wasn’t awake to comfort me, she was starting to freak out.

Within minutes, I was drenched in sweat, visibly trembling from the heatwaves pounding through my body. A buzzing noise reached my ears, and Dr. Sloane paused to fish a cellphone from her labcoat pocket.

“What is it, Dr. Fenway?” she distractedly asked, still tapping on her tablet.

“The female’s heart rate and oxygen levels have increased significantly,” a male voice said through the phone’s speaker. “Are you sure she’s not a hybrid?”

At that, Dr. Sloane’s eyes snapped back to me. One look and her expression changed from disinterest to intrigue.

My stomach dropped. Crap. Crap. If she started testing me, my wolf was going to lose it.

I could barely breathe, let alone keep a scared wolf at bay.

The longer Dr. Sloane stared at me, the more she panicked.

Sweat practically poured down my face as she thrashed inside me, desperate to claw her way out and escape whatever the scientist had in store for us.

I clamped my teeth down on the steel ball, swallowing a pained whimper. Settle, I pleaded with my wolf, with myself.

If I started to shift, I was done for. And what would happen to Jagger if I died? Our bond would unravel, would break. For real this time. How would he cope? How would Onyx cope?

Jagger, wake up. Wake up! I silently begged him, unable to stop more tears from falling. I need you!

Silence.

Still staring at me with renewed interest, Dr. Sloane put away her devices and grabbed the wheels of her chair to move toward me. My heart started to pound, faster and faster and faster. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it.

Jagger, please. Please, wake up! Onyx? Onyx!

Dr. Sloane pulled up beside me and watched my struggle for several moments, her eyes brightening shrewdly with each passing second.

“Regular werewolves can’t transform without the full moon’s aid,” she quietly observed, tapping her chin lightly.

“Yet you are exhibiting all the signs of a werewolf about to shift. Are you a hybrid, too?”

I shook my head, and she frowned.

“Lying will only force me to take more tests. Painful ones. Now, answer me honestly. Are you a hybrid?”

I shook my head again. Her scowl deepened.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play this, then you give me no choice.” Whirling her chair around, she barked, “Mr. Coolidge!”

My heart practically beat out of my chest when the beady-eyed man reappeared and strode back inside the glass room.

“Yes, Dr. Sloane?” he said, raking his gaze over me in a condescending manner.

“The female might be a hybrid. I need you to force her wolf out.”

Terror gripped me.

“Now?” he asked in surprise.

“Now,” she impatiently replied. “If she breaks free of the chair, I’ll tranquilize her.”

A sadistic excitement flashed in the man’s eyes, and when he pulled out his electrical prod, my wolf went wild. Pain lit up my body, my bones vibrating as she desperately tried to gain control.

Jagger! JAGGER!

I was losing the battle, my control over her slipping, slipping. She was too scared. I was too scared. I needed to defend myself, but I couldn’t do it like this. I needed her, and she readily answered my unspoken call, a call I could no longer keep silent.

Three steps and Mr. Coolidge was by my side. One swift move and the sharp prod was pressed to my neck.

Jagger, please!

Electricity jolted through my body, so powerful and agonizing that I couldn’t hold on any longer. My wolf surged up and took control. When I felt the first bone break, the only thing I could do was scream.