Chapter 11

“Wake up, mutt.” The sneered words were followed by a kick to my ribs that awoke the pain in my side with a vengeance. My arms and legs were tied, which prevented me from defending myself against another kick. I winced and opened my eyes to see a white-walled room full of cages. “He's awake,” the one who had kicked me said.

“Throw him in the cage,” Rob's low voice answered.

Two men picked me up and threw me in a cage with bars on all sides and the bottom. My skin burned when I hit the floor. One of the men stepped in and cut the ropes with a quick slice of his knife, then slammed the cage door shut behind him. I stood shakily in an attempt to keep as little of my skin contacting the floor as possible. My bare feet seared where they touched the bars. I looked up to see Nora's father on the other side of the cage door, his arms crossed casually in front of his tailor-suited chest and his eyes boring into mine.

“Throw him a blanket,” Rob said. His dark tone carried a hint of amusement at my pain.

A gray wool blanket that smelled of unwashed bodies landed in a heap at my feet. I stood on it, then met Rob's eyes again. “Where am I?” I demanded.

A humorless smile touched his lips. “The Werewolf Refinement Center, or Lobotraz, as we've come to call it thanks to the fact that no werewolf has ever escaped.” He winked at one of the men next to him. “Alive, that is.”

The three men chuckled and I wanted to smash their faces in as I had never wanted to hurt anyone before. I clenched my fists and pain ran up my arm where I had been shot. I glanced down to find a bandage over the wound. Another one had been wrapped around my thigh just below the tattered shorts I wore.

“Heal 'em to kill 'em,” one of the other men said.

“Good thing they heal so quickly,” Rob replied. He turned away, but said over his shoulder, “Makes torture that much more rewarding.” They walked through the room and shut a large metal door at the end with a resounding clang.

I felt like I was going to vomit and sunk into a crouch on the blanket. I reached out a hand to steady myself, but stopped just before I grabbed the silver bars.

“Good move,” a voice said from across the room.

I looked up to find another werewolf in a cage. Eight more cages lined that side of the wall and a glance to my right and left showed the same number on my side. Each cage contained a werewolf who watched me with mixed expressions of boredom, empathy, and anger.

“You want to touch the metal as little as possible. The coating absorbs in your skin and burns for hours,” the werewolf concluded.

“Nice little trick he does with the blanket, too,” the werewolf next to him agreed. He was seated on the floor of his cage, his blanket spread out to protect him from the bottom of his cell. “Waits until you burn your feet before he gives it to you. Likes to give you something to think about.”

“Smarts, doesn't it?” a female voice asked next to me.

I turned see a girl a few years younger than me standing in the cell on my left. Mercifully, she had been given a tattered shirt to wear along with the unwashed ragged shorts that were the sole coverings of the other werewolves. She held something in her hand and lifted it for me to see. “It's just water,” she explained, “but the more silver you wash off, the less it'll burn.” She slipped her hand between the bars and waited for me to take the metal cup.

I took it, then winced as it burned my fingertips. “More silver, really?”

She shrugged. “They aren't very original. You get used to it eventually; at least it hurts a little less.”

“You shouldn't lie, Gem. Gives the new guys hope,” the werewolf across from us admonished.

She rolled her eyes and gave me a winning smile. “Don't listen to them. I think they're starting to enjoy it here.”

A cup flew across the aisle between us and hit Gem's cage with a loud crash. Everyone fell silent for a moment, but the door at the end of the room stayed closed.

“Smooth, Jake,” Gem commented dryly. She turned back to me. “Use a corner of your blanket to wipe it off your feet; otherwise you'll be up all night with the pain.”

“I don't think I'll be sleeping much,” I said quietly, but I did as she instructed, and even though my feet still burned and angry red marks streaked across the bottoms where they had touched the bars, the pain lessened a bit.

Gem gave me a sad smile. “They're always the worst on the first day. You'll sleep, trust me.”

“What are you talking about?” I pressed.

She toyed with the short strands of her blond hair which had once been trimmed into something resembling a pixie cut and refused to answer. I looked at the other werewolves. The one across from me cleared his throat. “I guess you'll find out soon enough.” He rose and stretched in the confines of his cage. “They'll beat you until you phase, then whip you like a mangy cur with a silver cat-o-nine-tails that'll leave you as striped as a zebra.”

He turned to demonstrate and a lump formed in my throat. Black marks that looked like charcoaled burns ran up and down his back. He flexed, then let out his breath slowly and turned back around.

“They healed like that?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “They coat the whips with the same stuff as the bars. It burns and makes the healing process slower. And it never really stops hurting.” He gave a grim smile. “They've got werewolf torture down to an art.”

I dreaded the answer, but knew I had to ask. “What do they want?”

“The location of your pack.” His even tone said that they had broken the information from him long ago. He met my eyes, his gaze grim and angry. “At least, that's what they tell you. Then, when you finally break and give it to them,” his eyes narrowed and his expression left no room for argument, “And you will break.”

The surety in his tone sent a cold chill down my spine.

He kept speaking, “Then even though they promised to kill you, they keep you here and torture you for the sheer, twisted pleasure of it. Day after day, month after month.” His voice had risen to an angry shout.

He gripped the bars, ignoring the pain of the silver gel that covered them. “And there's no escaping it because our werewolf instinct doesn't let us kill ourselves and they won't kill us despite their promises!” A growl ripped from his throat and he hit his head against the bars so hard a trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He staggered back and sat down on his blanket. He touched the blood, then stared at his fingers as though he saw something within the dark red liquid.

“Don't mind Jake,” Gem said quietly next to me. “He's been here a while.”

“Everyone's been here a while,” the werewolf in the cage next to Jake growled.

I ran a finger over the knuckles on my right hand and frowned. “What if you don't phase.”

“They beat you to death,” the werewolf on my other side answered. “But you'll phase. It's instinctual to protect ourselves and we can't fight it. It's their way of humiliating us after we’ve given in and told them what they want to know. They take away our humanity, forcing us to phase so they can beat us like dogs.” He ran a hand through his dirty brown hair. “It's degrading.”

“My friends will come for me,” I said softly.

Jake lifted his bleeding head and laughed. Blood ran into his eyes, making him look even more deranged. “Your friends will come for you? Your pack?” He snorted. “Buried as deep as we are? You're as delusional as Gem.”

Several of the other werewolves chuckled, the bitterness of their laughter as biting as it was haunting. I glanced at Gem. She shrugged. “My parents will come for me. I know they're searching. They'd never give up.”

“Give it up, Gem,” a female werewolf called from a few cages down. “After six months, I'd think you'd figure it out.”

I stared at Gem. “You've been here six months? How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” she replied. She gave a forced smile. “At least I don't have to worry about passing Driver's Ed.”

“How did they find you?”

A cloud crossed her face. “I was at the movies with some friends. They jumped us when we were walking back to our car.” She dropped her eyes, but I could still see the guilt in them. “They killed Kristy and Morgan when they found out they weren't werewolves.” The tears in her voice betrayed the carefully emotionless expression on her face. “They'd still be alive if it wasn't for me.”

“It's not your fault you're a werewolf,” I pointed out. My heart ached for her pain. “Your parents would agree.”

She gave me a sad smile. “I miss them.”

“You'll see them again, don't worry.” I met the eyes of the werewolf across the alley, daring him to disagree. “We'll get out of here.” He snorted softly and turned around so his back was to us.

The door at the end of the room opened and four men walked in. “Gear up, newbie,” the werewolf on my right whispered. “They're coming for you.”

Their footsteps sounded loud in the cold gray room. Werewolves backed away from them and kept their eyes down as if afraid that eye contact would result in another beating. The men hit several of the cages as they passed, throwing taunting threats to the werewolves who cowered before them.

“Ready for another visit, mutt?” one asked, mocking a werewolf near the door.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” another said in a cruel tone that twisted in my gut as he hit a cage with his silver baton.

A guard hit Gem’s cage and she met his eyes in a small act of defiance. He paused, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Looks like you need a little more attention,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get it.”

The men stopped at my cage and a surge of adrenaline ran through my veins. I fought to keep from phasing to protect myself, pushing the instincts down with the threat of Jake’s words lingering in the back of my mind. The men opened the cage door and motioned for me to come out. My feet burned when I walked across the bare bars, but I didn't let it show. One of the men shoved me and I stumbled, but I kept my footing and walked quietly with them past the cages of weary werewolves who watched me with mixed expressions of trepidation and sorrow.

One older woman in the cage nearest the door held the bars with age-spotted fingers. “Be strong,” she whispered.

A guard hit her cage with a silver baton and she cowered against the back, but I met her eyes briefly and nodded before they shoved me through the door. The depth of pain, hunger, and hopelessness in her pale blue eyes haunted my soul.