I’m strong, but there’s only so much abuse my body can endure. I hang on to consciousness longer than normal, clinging to my thread of enjoyment at Andre’s growing frustration. When he cuts me, I laugh, the pain nothing in the face of his weakness. When he stabs me, I lick my lips and push the implement deeper, embracing the experience, using it to feed my will.
Andre’s slick professionalism fails him at last, reverting to brute strength and fury, beating me finally into the darkness with a heavy, rubber mallet. I force myself to smile even as the darkness claims me, knowing no matter what he does to me from this point on, I’ve broken him.
How delightful.
The sun is setting again when I wake this time, crumpled in the corner with my head at an odd angle. It’s immensely painful to shift out of the twisted and shattered position, to feel my bones grind together as I gasp through the agony. My breath wheezes out of my parched throat as I slump, shattered but straightened out at least, sitting against the cold wall. The chill is soothing on the burning skin of my back and I wonder why my wolf has allowed me to wake so soon.
I can feel her struggling to heal me. She never quits, as focused as I am and her determination gives me the added strength I need to take stock. As I sit there, feeling my bones knit together, I realize she had no choice but to rouse me. Had she tried to heal me in the awkward position I was in, my body would not have reformed correctly. Instead, I rest against the wall on the dirty straw, palms up, legs spread out before me, and endure the pain that comes with my wolf restoring my battered form.
I whimper as she fuses the two breaks in my collarbone, though when she pops my ribs back into position, I have to bite my lip until it bleeds to keep from screaming. Andre’s rage proves to me he knows he’s failed. And regardless of Rupe’s orders, I know if he gets the chance, the Dumont leader will kill me the next time he comes to visit.
There can’t be a next time. I have to find a way to escape. My mind goes to Sage, to Syd, and I use what precious energy my wolf needs to heal me to reach out to my love. And find nothing. He’s gone, long gone, and I can’t find a trace of him. As my wolf chuffs softly and goes back to work, I do my best not to fall into despair at his absence. I have no idea how long it’s been, maybe a day, since I sent him away. Surely, he could have reached her by now if he was going to. I writhe as I think of him captured, hurt or even dead, but I breathe through my fear into calm. If they had him, I would know. Andre surely wouldn’t be able to resist rubbing such a truth in my face in an effort to break me. And, to be honest, though nothing else has succeeded, I fear if they do capture Sage and use him against me, I will shatter at long last.
I have to believe he’s safe. My hand twitches as the muscle in my bicep weaves together, the tissue torn apart in a violent blow. I feel something sharp prod my skin and look down in the last of the light, catching a faint glimpse of silver buried in the straw.
What is it? My fingers close around it, pull it free, sticky with blackened blood. A spike, about a foot and a half long, with a smooth leather shaft for a handle. And as I stare at it, I remember.
Andre stabbed me with it. And I bit him, tearing it free from my flesh as my teeth sank into his. It flew across the room. He must have forgotten it in his fury. Left me a weapon.
It’s painful to move, but I don’t care. I lift the spike to my chest, cradle the steel crusted in my blood to my naked breasts and weep in joy.
My tears don’t last long, dehydration not allowing me many, but I’m tired of crying long before I’m done anyway. A few hiccups break the silence in my cell as my wolf labors to save me. I lift my chin, look out the window into the darkening sky and try to be patient, to let her do her job, even as I make plans for my sharp little friend tucked against me.
My mother’s face appears to me, a hallucination. My free hand rises to touch her, only to pass through her smile.
Sharlotta, she whispers.
“Momma.” Another tear manages an escape. “Help me.”
You have everything you need, the vision says. I gave it to you long ago.
She did. My training, so early, was all for this moment. Though I was taken from her too young, I realize now all the things she taught me, how to be resilient, to fight, to protect myself, were in preparation for Andre and the future in store for a young weregirl.
“Momma,” I say. “Thank you.”
You will survive, she says. You always do. And you will be magnificent.
I nod slowly, thinking of Zoe Helios, the young Oracle. She foresaw a trauma, apologized for it. Said I’d make it through. I can’t help but sob softly.
Courage, my sweet child, my mother says as she slowly fades away. My beautiful daughter. This moment of pain is almost over...
My fingers encounter nothing as I reach for her again, only the shadows before me as the sun sets. I cover my face with my free hand and bend over, mouth open, silent sobbing shaking my entire body. I can’t control it, letting out all the grief and pain and fear in empty, heaving gasps of air. I can barely breathe around my need to choke, stomach clenching though there is nothing in it to come up. My wolf surges with new strength, a wave of healing power washing over me and sending me backward, pressing me against the cold wall as I cough on my sorrow and feel the last of my body knit back together.
I know I should rise immediately, that Andre could come at any time, but I rest there for a few moments, catching my breath, wiping at my wet cheeks. I feel calm again, almost light, though I know it’s from hunger and lack of water. I’m likely in danger of my system shutting down if I don’t receive sustenance. Even werewolves can die of such basic lacks given enough time and damage to our bodies. I bask in the feeling of weightlessness a moment before finally pushing myself to my feet.
I’m not as wobbly as I expect, free hand against the wall, my right holding tight to the steel spike. The door is close, close enough I don’t have to expend much energy to reach it. I know it won’t work, but I try using my weapon to dislodge the deadbolt, the tip just thin enough to reach. After a few tries and some grunting effort, I give up. There is no keyhole on this side, and without access to the mechanism, my sharp friend is about as useless as I am.
Well, not entirely. I have options, now. I heft it, brushing the dried blood from its smooth roundness. I can make this all go away, if I choose, can turn this on myself. Thwart Andre and Rupe, take away their bait, no longer allow them to use me against Sage, or for a toy.
But that is last resort. I may be weak of body, but my determination is as powerful as ever. I might not have access to my magic, but I grew up in the same position and it didn’t stop me. And I might not have anyone to help me, but then, I’ve always been alone.
I will not fail myself. I will hover by this door, and I will wait for whoever comes through. And I will drive this spike through their heart and take their life before taking my own, if it comes to that.
My knees buckle a little so I crouch instead of standing, hovering by the door, eyes locked on its edge. Time ticks by, but there is only the hot metal in my shaking hand, the ache of my legs from my straining muscles and the slow, steady breathing I was taught to encourage focus.
When I hear someone approaching at last, it almost shatters my calm. I stifle a hysterical, disoriented giggle behind one hand, fingers shifting on the spike in the other, bouncing on my screaming knees as the footsteps hurry toward the door.
I can’t smell him through the metal, but I know it’s Andre. And I can’t wait to see his face when I kill him. I lick my lips. Maybe I should make it slow, painful? But I don’t have time for that. My wolf shakes me a little with a growl. I must act if I’m going to have my revenge. And maybe, just maybe, even escape.
I clamp my hand over the next squeak of excited fear emerging as laughter just as the deadbolt slowly turns. My wolf growls softly in my head as the door creaks and eases open an inch, another, until it’s enough and I lunge, spike extended to kill.
***