Page 21

SIXTEEN

MAYA

M aya woke to clinical brightness that assaulted her senses.

Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, she found herself in a sterile room where everything—walls, floor, ceiling—gleamed with an unnatural white intensity.

No windows broke the seamless surface, only a single metal door disrupted the pristine enclosure.

She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt weighted and uncooperative.

The hospital gown rustled against her skin, thin and paper-like, reminding her of her vulnerability.

A strange tingling sensation radiated from the small mark on her neck—the place where Kieran's teeth had partially sunk into her during their heated encounter in his cabin.

It burned with an intensity that seemed disproportionate to its size.

"What the hell?" she whispered, her fingertips exploring the tender area.

The sensation wasn't just physical though. Something deeper pulsed within her chest—a strong tether pulling taut toward some distant point. Along that invisible connection flowed emotions that weren't entirely her own. Rage, pain, and determination. Kieran. Somehow, she felt him.

"He's alive," she breathed, relief washing through her. The last image before the tranquilizer took her down had been Kieran mid-transformation, facing impossible odds. Five massive wolves against one.

Maya closed her eyes, focusing on the strange connection. He was hurt—badly—but alive and burning with fury. His anger wasn't cold or distant, it blazed hot and personal.

"He's coming for me," she realized, the certainty settling into her bones.

She glanced around the room again, assessing her prison with a scientist's methodical attention.

The folding chair beside her bed looked deliberately uncomfortable, designed for brief visits rather than extended stays.

The IV stand beside her bed remained empty, but the presence of medical equipment suggested they weren't finished with her yet.

Granite Ridge territory. It had to be. The wolf shifters who ambushed them had mentioned the High Council—the mysterious governing body Kieran had explained with such conflicted respect.

"They know about my dormant shifter genes," she murmured, touching her neck again. The burning had intensified, spreading tendrils of warmth throughout her body.

The scientific side of her brain inventoried her symptoms clinically: increased body temperature, heightened sensory awareness, and strange phantom emotions.

The more intuitive part—the part she'd suppressed beneath years of academic rigor and human ignorance—recognized something transformative stirring beneath her skin.

What would a group of tradition-bound wolf shifter elders want with a human who carried dormant shifter genes? The possibilities made her stomach clench. Test subject. Breeding experiment. Genetic research.

"Not exactly the type of field study I signed up for," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

The room tilted alarmingly, the aftereffects of the tranquilizer still lingering in her system. She gripped the edge of the mattress, waiting for equilibrium to return. Whatever they'd shot her with had been potent—designed for wolf metabolism, not human.

The connection in her chest pulled tighter, like an invisible string connecting her heart to Kieran's. His emotions sharpened—determination cutting through pain. His wolf was closer to the surface now, she could somehow tell, raw and primal in its focus.

"I need to get out of here before he gets himself killed trying to rescue me," she whispered to the empty room.

Maya forced herself to stand, gripping the IV pole for support. Three unsteady steps brought her to the door—stainless steel with no interior handle.

The door suddenly buzzed, making her jump back. The metal panel swung inward, revealing a diminutive woman in a white lab coat. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and her calculating eyes.

"Ms. Collins," the woman said, her voice surprisingly melodious for her stern appearance. "Please return to bed. You're not strong enough to be mobile yet."

Maya backed away. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"

"You're in a secure medical facility within Granite Ridge territory." The woman closed the door behind her with practiced efficiency. "As for what we want—" Her eyes flicked to the bite mark on Maya's neck, lingering there with unmistakable interest. "That's a rather complicated answer."

Maya backed against the wall, the thin hospital gown providing little protection against the woman's clinical assessment. "I'm not interested in whatever this is."

"Back on the bed, please." The woman gestured with a clipboard. "Don't make this difficult."

"Difficult?" Maya laughed, the sound brittle. "I was drugged and kidnapped. I think we passed 'difficult' several exits back."

The woman's expression didn't change. "I'm Dr. Sonya Blackwell. I'll be overseeing your tests while you're our guest."

"Guest?" Maya's scientific mind recorded everything about this Dr. Sonya—trim build, late forties, fingers stained with chemical residue, no wedding ring, and eyes that noticed everything but revealed nothing. "That's what we're calling captives now?"

Dr. Sonya sighed, pressing a small button on her wristband. "Compliance assistance needed in Room 5."

The door swung open immediately. A man with shoulders like mountain ridges stepped in, his presence reducing the already small room to claustrophobic dimensions.

"Ms. Collins refuses to cooperate." Dr. Sonya's tone suggested this was merely a technical problem requiring a technical solution.

Maya darted for the space between the man and the doorframe, desperate for escape. His hand shot out with inhuman speed, catching her arm and lifting her as easily as a ragdoll.

"Let me go!" Maya thrashed against his grip as he deposited her onto the bed. Her feet connected with his ribs—might as well have kicked concrete.

"Hold her steady, Vance." Dr. Sonya prepared an IV line with methodical precision, tapping a vein in Maya's forearm.

"What are you doing?" Maya's voice rose with panic, the needle hovering above her skin. "What tests are you performing? Answer me!"

Vance pinned her arms while Dr. Sonya slid the needle home, taping it securely. Restraints came next—thick padded cuffs binding her wrists and ankles.

"These precautions are for your safety," Dr. Sonya said, checking the restraints.

"Safety?" Maya pulled against the bonds. "You haven't answered a single question. What tests? Why am I here?"

Dr. Sonya connected the IV to a bag of clear fluid, making adjustments with the focus of someone tuning a delicate instrument. "The High Council would prefer I limit explanations until we have results."

"Results of what?" Maya's voice cracked as Dr. Sonya began attaching monitoring electrodes to her chest, temples, and wrists.

Instead of answering, Dr. Sonya reached for a small vial of amber liquid. She injected it directly into the IV port.

"What is that?" Terror clawed up Maya's throat. "Tell me what you just put in me!"

"We're activating certain dormant genetic markers." Dr. Sonya settled into the folding chair and opened her notebook. Her pen hovered expectantly. "Now we wait."

The burning started in Maya's fingertips—a prickling heat spreading up her arms like wildfire through dry brush. Her skin felt too tight, her muscles clenching involuntarily beneath the surface.

"Oh god." Her back arched against the restraints as waves of intense heat pulsed through her body.

The burning concentrated in her jaw—her teeth aching as they tried to lengthen. Her spine contorted, her bones seeking new alignment. Her fingernails stretched painfully in their beds, fighting to become claws.

"Subject shows accelerated response to Compound W-47," Dr. Sonya noted, her voice detached. "Initial transformation markers appearing within forty seconds of administration."

Maya screamed as her ribs began to shift. A wolf . They were forcing her body to become a wolf with whatever drug they'd given her.

"Heart rate 185 and climbing," Dr. Sonya continued, glancing at the monitors. "Blood pressure elevated but within acceptable parameters."

Maya's vision sharpened, the white color of the room intensifying unnaturally. Her canine teeth extended, cutting into her bottom lip. A whimper escaped—not entirely human.

Dr. Sonya nodded, satisfied. "Partial shift achieved. Dormancy theorem confirmed."

She abruptly disconnected the IV line, stopping the flow of the amber liquid. Maya collapsed against the mattress, her bones reluctantly returning to human configuration and her muscles trembling with exhaustion.

"Why..." Maya whispered, her throat raw from screaming.

Dr. Sonya prepared another injection, this one containing a milky white substance. "This will help you rest."

"No more," Maya begged as the needle pierced her skin. "Please..."

Darkness gathered at the edges of her vision. Maya instinctively reached for that strange connection in her chest—that tether linking her to Kieran. She pushed everything she had through it.

Find me. Please find me. They're turning me into something.

As consciousness slipped away, she felt an answering pulse of raw fury and determination through the bond. A promise wrapped in a growl.

Hold on, I'm coming for you.

Two days later, Maya's third injection of the day burned through her veins like liquid fire.

Her back arched off the bed, her restraints cutting into her wrists as pain exploded across every nerve ending.

The room blurred, then sharpened to such crystal clarity she could count the microscopic pores in the paint on the walls.

"Increased dosage showing accelerated receptor response," Dr. Sonya noted, her clinical detachment maddening as Maya's body contorted. "Partial transformation progressing deeper with each treatment."

Maya bit back a scream as her fingernails thickened and curved, not quite claws but no longer human. The sensation of her teeth elongating sent her tongue probing her mouth in horror. Her jaw ached with the pressure of accommodating her extending canines.

"Please," she gasped when the wave subsided. "What's happening to me?"

Dr. Sonya adjusted a monitor. "Your genetic markers are activating. Three days of treatment, and you're already showing remarkable adaptation rates."

Three days. Maya had been here three endless days filled with needles and pain. The thin hospital gown clung to her sweat-drenched skin. Her muscles trembled with newfound strength she couldn't control.

Each forced partial shift had left her senses more acute. The scent of guards outside her door. Water pipes three floors up. The electrical hum of security systems. Her world had expanded into an overwhelming sensory panorama.

The bite mark on her neck—Kieran's mark—pulsed with heat. Each injection seemed to accelerate whatever changes his teeth had started. She felt the connection to him strengthen, a tether pulling taut across miles, carrying echoes of his raw rage and fierce determination.

Dr. Greene, the senior physician, entered with a tablet. His expensive cologne hit Maya's heightened senses like a sledgehammer, making her gag.

"Blood work finally came back and confirmed it," he said, oblivious to her discomfort. "Dormant shifter genes. Fourth generation by my estimate, though diluted through human interbreeding."

Dr. Sonya nodded. "The heritage markers match our database. Her maternal great-great-grandmother disappeared from Silvercrest territory during the Border Wars."

"A Silvercrest's mate, taken by humans," Greene mused, examining Maya like a particularly interesting specimen. "Poetic that her descendant would return as the mate of the Silvercrest heir."

Maya's heart hammered. "I'm not?—"

"The mating mark disagrees." Dr. Sonya tapped the bite on Maya's neck, sending shockwaves of sensation through her body.

Greene lowered his voice, but Maya's enhanced hearing caught every word. "The High Council wants to know if she can fully transform. Her genetic activation could prove our recessive gene theory."

"We'll need higher doses." Dr. Sonya glanced at Maya. "Careful with the next round. Shifter with human cellular structure—unpredictable combination."

They left, locking the door behind them. Maya collapsed against the bed, processing the revelation. Shifter genes confirmed. Her own blood carried the wolf within like Lena suspected.

Her grandmother's warning echoed in her mind. Never go into the deep woods . Her grandmother had known, or at least suspected, something lurked in their bloodline.

And Kieran... The electric connection between them made so much more sense now. Her body had recognized his at a cellular level almost immediately. The primal attraction and the instant bond—not just chemistry but biology like Kieran had told her.

"I should have known," Maya whispered to herself. "All those years feeling like wolves were a part of who I was. They were literally part of me."

That night, Maya tested her restraints, noting the slight give in the left cuff where her wrist had grown thickened with muscle during partial transformations. Her newfound strength surprised her, the leather stretching where it wouldn't have days ago.

"They'll keep increasing the doses until they break me," she whispered, testing the restraint again.

Her scientific mind assessed her changes from the past three days. Enhanced strength, accelerated healing, and heightened senses. Perfect tools for escape.

A guard passed by her door, his footsteps distinctive. A different guard would relieve him in twenty minutes based on the pattern she'd memorized.

Maya closed her eyes, focusing on the connection to Kieran that grew stronger each day. His presence filled her consciousness with protective fury and raw determination. Wherever he was, he was coming for her. But she couldn't wait around for him like some fairytale princess anymore.

If she couldn't reach Kieran through their connection, perhaps she could reach the wolf inside herself—on her terms, not through their drugs. Maybe that same wolf could help her break free.

If I'm going to become a wolf , she thought with grim determination, it'll be on my timeline, not theirs.