19

he drug called CHS3 was the standard instrument of choice to bring down a werewolf in its most lethal form. Though purebloods recovered faster from the drug’s effects, the downtime was enough to secure the target for transfer. And the same was true for Nicholas. During the small battle in the overgrown field, he took several darts with enough of the drug to take down four impure werewolves. But his rage kept his body in motion, focusing all of his remaining energy on ripping through the men to save Jayda. Though his mind was fighting to keep his body awake, the drug coated his system with a dull, warm numbness. As his mind was the last to give in, he called out to Arden, “Run.”

A pair of human eyes opened, each blink shorter than the first, then finally locking onto the dark ceiling above. Nicholas’ muscles ached and skin burned as he struggled to sit. He heard the chains that accompanied the shackles around his wrists, ankles, and neck, and knew Lori’s fear had come true. The irritating metal against his skin told him it was coated in silver, and blisters began to form wherever the shackles touched him. As he stood he found himself dressed in a cheap pair of hospital pants and nothing else. And aside from the irritated skin he was otherwise unharmed.
In the hall outside of his cell he heard the muffled voices of men and the clanking of a metal door. An unmistakable deep growl overtook the voices, swiftly followed by the sound of gunshots. Nicholas jumped to his feet and wrapped the chains around his arms and pulled. The chains, attached to the metal wall with thick bolts, didn’t even bend.
The small window on the cell’s door slid open. A woman stood on the other side and spoke to her unseen assistant. “Subject 2489 is awake and in his passive form. Note the time. We will begin acclimating the subject at 9 a.m.” The window slid shut. The footsteps of two people continued down the hall to the next cell where another status report was read.
Nicholas moved to the wall and sat down and began adjusting the heavy restraint around his neck. His fingers brushed over the blistering skin and found several open sores beginning to ooze with a mixture of water and blood. He then grabbed the cheap fabric of his new pants, ripped through the left leg and placed the torn fabric between his neck and the metal. He went for the right leg and ripped away more fabric to place around his wrists and ankles. Sitting back, the absence of the silver against his skin was a minor victory.
Nicholas closed his eyes and centered his mind on Arden. The familiar connection, one that was never allowed to weaken since the night he released the vampire, was no more. His stomach dropped at the possible reasons why. It was either the use of some drug capable of severing the link, or Arden had been killed. The vampire would let nothing stand in his way to rescue his charge. And it wouldn’t be like him to go silent at a time like this.
This is your punishment, Nicholas told himself. Can you hear him?
He cringed at the phantom laughter.
Your father is waiting for you to join him. And you know it was his death that brought you here. This is your sin. Time to accept your fate.