Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2) (25 page)

“It’s the damn delivery guy,” Isaac spat out. “How in the nine the hells did we miss that?”

As he paced the room, Emma tried to sooth him. Good, they’d buried their little spat. He didn’t need them snipping at each other, pulling their attention away from Sylvia.

“He must be one of the people who worked at the compound. As far as we know, they’re the only ones with access to the drug.” His mind whirling with the implications, he yelled, “Jackson, have the techs also check the personnel data against the prisoners we have. See if any of them are missing or unaccounted for.”

Derek took a deep shuddering breath and tried to connect to Sylvia. He hoped the lifebond was active. If it was, he’d be able to find her anywhere in the city.

Please, let it work,
he silently pleaded.

His sanity couldn’t handle another bout of her missing.

A faint flicker of awareness slipped through his mind then disappeared. He’d made contact, but it wasn’t enough. Unconscious and for who knew how long. It all depended on the dose she’d received. Unable to rely on their connection to save her, he hoped the techs could give him some answers and soon.

Chapter Thirty-One

A familiar feeling
swept over Sylvia, one she dreaded. Drugged again. Terror beat at her. Was she back in the prison cell? Was her rescue just a dream? No, no, no, she couldn’t handle going back there.

Calm, remain calm. Remember what happened,
she thought.

She’d been at Dr. Zayler’s office, and someone had smashed the window. Memories assaulted her: the fight, the doctor getting hit, D hiding a dart gun and then darkness.

A soft mattress cushioned her body, not the one she used at Derek’s. The scent was wrong, a coldness to it that bothered her nose. Her arm was cushioned under her head while the rest of her body curled into itself, a default position from the prison. Better to have cramped muscles than accidently get burned by the silver in the walls.

“Don’t bother pretending to sleep. I know you’re awake. I can hear your heart pounding.”

The calm voice infuriated her. She located him from his own heartbeat and sprang to attack only to pull up short.

He’d chained her to the bed, a collar around her neck like she was a dog. She yanked at the chain, expecting it to break, as very little could hold a werewolf. And yet the chain stayed strong with no give. What the…?

“Mage reinforced. You won’t break that chain anytime soon.”

Still so calm, as if they were discussing the weather instead of her imprisonment. There was no sense of victory or satisfaction at having her captive. There was no break in his icy demeanor, his earlier angry outburst gone.

“You can’t keep me here. I will escape. You know I will, so just let me go.” A slight trembling in her voice betrayed her fear and panic. Had Dr. Zayler woken up yet? Did anyone know she was missing? Were they looking for her?

“No one will come for you. I left no trail for them to follow. I’ve studied werewolves enough to know how to fool you.” He moved, again quicker than any human had a right to, and was at the door.

“What are you?” she whispered.

No way was he human, but he didn’t smell like another race. He smelled of pure human biology.

“An experiment. They wanted humans they could trust, and I wanted to be stronger, faster and deadlier.” His smile was a slight lifting of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

She shuddered. There was so much coldness in his eyes, and she was at the mercy of this madman.

“What do you want with me?”

“You’re my mate, and soon you’ll be the mother of my children.” He exited the room, closed the door and locked it.

She didn’t move, too stunned by his words. His mate? He
was
insane. And she would never have his children. She’d kill him if he ever tried.

She paced around the tiny room, almost able to reach the door, but not quite. The chain stopped her less than a foot from the knob. With a huff of frustration, she gave a swift kick to the bed, and it slammed into the wall. Her head jerked when the bed skidded across the floor and she cursed.

Defeated, she sank onto the bed, its soft mattress sucking her down. Self-pity welled up and the urge to cry became irresistible. Giant, fat tears slid down her face, splashing onto her thighs. Helpless again and at someone else’s mercy. She pounded her fists onto the bed and bit back a scream.

Why did this keep happening to her? She inwardly railed. Did she have a target on her back? Did something about her flag her as a victim? She banged the back of her head against the wall, pissed off, frustrated and fearful. What if Derek didn’t find her this time? Would she spend months, years as this man’s captive? Could she handle being a prisoner again? She barely survived mentally the last time.

Scrubbing at her face, she wiped away all traces of her tears. They didn’t help her, and instead, she ended up with a mild, nagging headache from her breakdown.

The crying proved to be a catalyst for getting her off her butt and assessing her situation. Yes, he’d chained her. Yes, no one knew where she was. And yes, D was fucking crazy. However, she wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t stupid, and by no means was she sitting around waiting to be rescued. It was time she acted instead of reacted.

She surveyed the room, searching for anything to help. Unfortunately, D had learned a lot from his time at the compound.

The walls were bare. No pictures or decorations adorned it. The bed was the sole furniture. Its solid steel frame gave her hope. While the chain was unbreakable, it didn’t mean the frame was. Steel might take her a while to snap, but she could eventually do it.

There were no windows. The single exit from this room was the locked door. It seemed this used to be a storage room for preservatives and canned goods. Faded outlines of shelves marred the cheap, peeling wallpaper. Running her hands over the wall, she searched for a hidden door or a walled-over window. She ripped off some of the nasty pale pink rose wallpaper to find it covered decaying drywall. When she punched a hole through it, she found brick instead of more drywall. Ah good, an outer wall. This she could work with.

Oddly enough, she felt confident and hopeful. Now that her initial panic and depression had subsided, she realized escape shouldn’t be too difficult. As far as she knew, there was only D guarding her. The chains may be unbreakable, but she could work around that. The walls didn’t have silver in them, and she was pretty sure the door didn’t either. A lock would keep her in for only so long.

A giggle escaped, and euphoria bubbled through her. She was thinking like an Enforcer and not a victim. Just because some crazy nutjob fixated on her didn’t mean she deserved it. She needed to remember the breakthrough she’d had at Dr. Zayler’s office.

She was a survivor, not a victim. It was time she acted like one.

Sylvia sat calmly on the bed, made several plans and discarded a few. Time was on her side for now, so she wanted to account for different scenarios. There was a possibility he had a large stockpile of drugs, but the likelihood of that was low. He could’ve been steadily stealing them from the compound, except they would’ve caught him, given the number of cameras they had.

Most likely he’d only had what he used while on duty. Maybe he’d be hesitant to waste any of it unless she was unruly. How far could she push him before he used a dart? Could she take him out before he had the chance to knock her unconscious?

Remembering how swiftly he moved and the punishment he could take, she realized she’d have to take him by surprise. Could she pretend to be biddable, let him touch her, maybe even seduce him a little? Revulsion shuddered through her. Allowing any man, never mind this one, to touch her was a violation of her bond with Derek.

But what was that bond worth if she gave up, didn’t bother fighting for her freedom no matter what it took? She owed it to herself and to Derek to do everything possible to escape.

The scratch of a key entering the lock caught her attention. The door squeaked open, and D entered. In his hands, a covered dish. Her stomach rumbled when the smell wafted to her nose. She hadn’t eaten since the previous day, had expected to have lunch after her session with the doctor. Instead D had derailed her plans, and now her stomach was in protest from lack of food.

“Ah good, you’re hungry,” he said with a cold smile. “I’ve made some food for you.”

He placed the covered dish on the bed next to her. He was so close. One swipe across the throat, and he’d be down. She forced herself to stay her hand. Patience would win this game.

With a flourish, he removed the cover and looked pleased with himself. She had to admit, he had a reason to be proud. On the plate sat bacon-wrapped chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy and a side of mixed veggies. It smelled amazing, and her mouth watered in hunger.

A part of her didn’t trust him, didn’t want to taste the potentially drug-laced food, and yet, what would be the point of him drugging her food? She wavered back and forth until hunger and the need to keep her strength up won out. While she could go several days, sometimes over a week, without food or drink, it wasn’t pleasant and severely weakened her.

Attacking the food with gusto – and secretly amazed he’d given her a fork and knife – she inhaled it. She felt bad for not savouring it then called herself an idiot for caring about the sociopath’s feelings. He stood near the door, watching her every move, with a curious glint in his eye.

It almost seemed like joy.

When she finished, he gathered the plate and cutlery. From the careful way he checked the items over, she knew it’d be next to impossible to hide the knife or fork from him.

He smiled smugly at her and said, “See, you can eat my food, too, not just his. You trust me. You’re
my
mate, not his.”

Too shocked to retaliate or deny his words, she watched as he left. She hadn’t realized the way he’d interpret it.

A horrifying thought dawned on her. He’d listened to her entire session with Dr. Zayler.

How many sessions had he listened to? How much had he learned about her? He knew when and where her therapy appointments were, or else he wouldn’t have found her. With Jackson teleporting her there, he couldn’t have followed them. She’d given him a perfect opportunity to listen in by insisting the window be left open.

With a furious roar, she vented her anger against the mattress, tearing into it and destroying the sheets. The pillow didn’t fare much better as she tore it apart as well.

Panting from exertion, she collapsed on the wooden floor and curled into a ball. She wanted to cry again but didn’t trust herself to stop anytime soon. Squeezing her rage, fear and violation deep down, she tried to steady herself. She needed a clear head, but the chaotic thoughts kept pounding at her.

She was to blame for this.

If she’d been able to overcome her damn phobia, he wouldn’t have heard her. If she’d been able to handle all this on her own, she wouldn’t have been at a therapist’s, therefore making herself vulnerable.

Her mind finally exhausted, she stretched out and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Shame clawed at her over her outburst until she realized it was the first time she’d let loose the anger inside her. She’d been holding it in, refusing to acknowledge it. When she was at the compound, she didn’t want to give them a reason to drug her. After her rescue, she felt she didn’t have a right to be angry. She was free, wasn’t she?

Except she had every right to be ticked off. They’d stolen a part of her life from her, tortured her and put her family through hell while she’d been missing.

And now this arrogant bastard thought he could do the same. He’ll soon find out he picked the wrong woman to take. She was fighting back and would prove once and for all that she deserved the title of Werewolf Enforcer and Beta for Derek Quinlan, the meanest bastard around.

Grinning fiercely, she jumped up and dusted herself off. Ignoring the mess she’d made of the bed and pillow, she instead focused on the wall. The dent had gone unnoticed by D, but it’d be hard for him to miss a huge gaping hole.

For now, she was alone, although that could change at any moment. Did she have time to make a large opening in the wall before he came back? What if he had cameras? A swift assessment showed no cameras; however, with how small they could be made, it’d be hard to spot some of them anyways.

Shrugging, she decided to chance it. If he came back, then she’d deal with him. No use borrowing trouble when she already had more than her fair share. Figuring she had a few moments before he’d come running, she moved swiftly. She aimed a few well-timed punches at the wall mid-waist, increasing the damage until it was wide enough for her head to fit through. Kneeling, she ripped downwards at the drywall, pulling off huge chunks and tossing it behind her.

The faint sound of footsteps froze her for a second before she moved in a frenzy of energy. She pulled the bed over to the hole and covered it with the headboard. Then she punched and kicked the other walls, leaving dents and broken drywall in her wake. By the time she finished, a cloud of dust hung in the air, creating a ghostly atmosphere.

A death shroud of powder clung to her.

Her lungs hurt each time she inhaled as the particles invaded her airway. Eyes stung as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. A few tears fell, and she scrubbed them away, leaving streaks in the gray dust on her cheeks.

The door pushed open, and light streamed in, catching the dust in its rays. The now familiar shape of D’s body moved into the entrance, blocking some of the light. She glared at him resentfully, wanting to attack him.

“I think it’s time we discussed the ground rules. First, you won’t be getting out of that collar. As I said, it’s mage reinforced, I don’t have the key on me, and there’s a sweet little feature the mage added to the lock. So even if you killed me, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. Second, you’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. Since they changed me, I’ve avoided women. They can’t take my affection anymore. Too weak. You, however, you took every hit I gave you and came back for more. You stood toe to toe with me.”

Disgust and revulsion warred inside her. He was perverting the thoughts she had about Derek. Many times she marveled at how well they fit together, that they felt comfortable enough with each other to speak their minds. Just recently she’d experienced the same possessiveness towards Derek that D was now expressing about her, willing to kill to keep her.