Savage, page 3
part #1 of The Healer Series
“Are you guys fucking serious right now?” I shout, my eyes wide in disbelief. “I’m trying to find my woman, and you’re reminiscing about a fucking cartoon?”
“So you do know it?” Flynn smiles brightly. I move, intending to punch him, but Eileen holds up a hand, stopping me.
“Better shut it, Flynn,” Eileen warns him patting his chest, barely containing her smile.
Taking a deep breath to calm the fuck down, I return my attention back to Thomas and Rhett. “Now, go do whatever the fuck it is you do. Find her.”
Rhett shakes his head in annoyance, but they both face forward and do their blank stare. Now we wait, and pray these two assholes, that are in love with my woman, can find out where she is so I can kill the motherfuckers who took her.
In my subconscious, my dreams are dark and lonely. Memories float through my mind in brief wisps, barely there, as quick and short as a baby’s breath; the large vein that ran up Lucy’s hand as she knitted, my brother’s smiles, Rhett’s eyes, Daniel’s mouth, his voice—his everything. All beautiful things. I reach for those memories; if I could just grab onto one, cling to it, maybe it could carry me through this hell.
It’s dark again. And quiet. Silence has never been so loud. It’s deafening. But then I hear a voice. Two voices? They call to me. And then there is light. It’s dim, but I can see two figures approaching me; reaching for me. I scream and try to run, but I can’t. One of them grabs me and pulls me close. I gasp for air, my panic having sucked all of the oxygen out of my body. After a moment, I realize he’s hugging me and trying to soothe me with his words.
“Aldo, it’s okay. It’s Thomas. It’s okay.”
Have I caught a memory? I cling to it, fisting the material of his shirt, refusing to let him go. I will hold on to him no matter what.
“Where are you, Aldo?” The other man asks. It’s Rhett. My beautiful Rhett. I reach for him, but he does not come to me.
“Where are you?” Thomas asks.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, but then I remember. I know exactly where I am. My gaze moves up to meet his, and I tell him, “I’m in hell.”
Thomas is silent for a moment before he asks, “Can you show me something, anything from where you are?”
I focus hard. I’ve only seen one person in what seems like forever.
The doctor.
His image appears before us, and I show them some of what he’s done to me. I show them how he’s cut me open, how he’s removed parts and sewn me back up. As we watch, Thomas squeezes me tighter. Their images begin to fade out. They can’t hold the link to my subconscious; the drugs in my system are too strong.
“We’re going to find you. Daniel sent us, and we’re going to find you.” Thomas’s voice is panicked as he hugs me tightly.
“Daniel?” His name escapes my dry and brittle lips like a prayer, and I long for him. Daniel will protect me. Keep me safe. I need him.
“Stay alive.” Thomas pulls away from me.
“Rhett.” I reach for him and my breath hitches when he backs away. “Stay alive,” he reiterates Thomas’s last words as his gaze leaves mine and moves to the ground.
Before I can even process his words, they are gone. Crying out, I chase after them in the darkness, but there is nothing but emptiness. Collapsing to the ground, I tell myself they were a dream, an illusion. “They weren’t really here,” I whisper to myself. They never came for me. I’m going to die here.
An image flickers nearby, much like the picture of a television when the antenna needs to be adjusted. Remaining on my knees, I watch as the image seems to morph closer and closer.
“Aldo,” Lucy’s voice calls, sounding muffled and distant. My subconscious is bringing her here; for what, I have no idea. “Don’t give up,” she says as her image stands just before me, flickering in and out.
As I stare up at her, I laugh. “Sure thing, Luce,” I say dryly.
“Your life is no longer your own. You must survive this.”
I lie down and close my eyes. “Be gone,” I groan. My subconscious is obviously trying to give me a pep talk, but I’m in no mood for it. Fire tingles through me, burning and raging inside of me; another injection from the doctor, perhaps. When I open my eyes, Lucy’s image is gone, and I suck in a deep breath. Call it weakness, call it giving up, but I wish I could die. I’m tired of the pain. But somewhere inside me, a small spark of stubbornness and courage ignites and it drives me.
I will not die.
I will live, and I will kill Bridge and the doctor.
Suddenly, the ground shakes beneath me and I groan. I’m waking up. I don’t want to wake up. Waking up means pain, and I don’t know that I can take anymore. But I remind myself of one simple truth. Pain means I’m alive. I must hold on to that. As long as I hurt, my heart is still beating.
My eyes barely open before they close again, the bright light above me beaming down, making me squint. Indistinct voices hover near me, and after a moment I recognize them. It’s Bridge and the doctor, but because of my restraints and where they’re standing, I’m unable to see them.
“You’re sure?” Bridge asks, the undertone of disbelief in his voice.
“I can tell you, it is nothing I’ve ever seen,” the doctor replies.
“Spit it out, doc. I haven’t got all day.” An unfamiliar voice, thick with southern twang demands.
I want to know what they’re talking about, but my head lulls from side to side as I slip in and out of consciousness. When I come to again, the unknown man and the doctor are still speaking.
“Given the injections she’s been administered, topped with the blood samples, and other experiments, it’s a wonder she’s progressed this far,” the doctor says.
“How long?” Bridge growls.
“Not long.”
“Well this just got all kinds of interesting.” Bridge chuckles and I grimace at the sound. The first night Bridge and I met—the first night Daniel brought me to Myrtle Beach, S.C.—Bridge, not knowing I was a hybrid, spelled me into having sex with him in the men’s bathroom at a club. Things didn’t get very far as I was a newly turned hybrid and blood thirsty, and I attacked Bridge, much to his dismay. I probably would’ve ripped his throat out as I was so wrapped up in the throes of lust—even if I was hypnotized to do it—and hungry. Luckily, Daniel stopped it, but I’ve hated Bridge ever since. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s spelled women to have sex with him before and considered them willing participants. I consider it rape. He’s a disgusting being, but even with our issues, I wouldn’t have killed him. Well . . . I take that back. I did think about it a few times, maybe even plotted it, but I would’ve never gone through with it. I knew Bridge hated me, as I hate him, but I had no idea he would do something like this to me. Maybe if I had told Daniel about the animosity between Bridge and I, he could have stopped this. There was a moment, before we took down Andre and his nest at the club, when I asked Daniel if he trusted Bridge.
“You trust Bridge?” I asked skeptically. I hadn’t thought much about Bridge since I left Myrtle Beach with Thomas, but I knew if he and I were to come face to face again, the same distrust and distaste for one another would exist.
“I do,” Daniel had answered plainly. “He is my oldest ally.”
I bit my tongue and held off on speaking badly about Bridge. It seemed a moot point to bring it up, anyway. Daniel knew I didn’t care for Bridge after that first night, before I knew who he was. Daniel summed it up to a misunderstanding and Bridge’s inability to resist my female hybrid allure.
I wonder what Daniel thinks about it now, I think bitterly.
I cringe with that thought. I can’t let my mind venture down that road; the road where I try to blame someone else for this. Daniel was obviously wrong about Bridge, but I can’t lay the fault squarely on his shoulders. He was in denial about Bridge . . . they had been friends for five hundred years. I imagine some newbie hybrid trying to discredit him wasn’t enough. Besides, Daniel has always tried to help me, steer me in the right direction, and many of those times I ignored his warnings and ended up screwing everything up. Bridge seemed like more of an annoyance than a problem at the time, and that’s why I never really got into the issues between Bridge and me, with Daniel. Besides, I needed to focus on one monster at a time. Andre came first, but I told myself I would speak with Daniel regarding Bridge just as soon as Andre was killed.
Little did I know Bridge would drug and kidnap me only hours after the vicious leader of the vampire nest would meet his demise.
“Increase her blood ration. Bring her some food. I need my bargaining piece healthy,” the man with the Southern accent orders.
“Xavier,” the doctor says his name delicately. “As you recall there was one last thing I wished to do before—”
“Not now. She’s too valuable to take chances with,” Xavier cuts him off.
“As you wish,” the doctor murmurs in understanding.
The light above my head goes off, and I’m able to open my eyes. Most of the room is blurry and dark.
“There, there little dove,” the doctor purrs and I feel the familiar pinch of the needle in my arm, as he injects me, making me whimper. My body burns, but I remind myself—pain means I’m alive.
“They’ve been zoned out for three hours,” Flynn grumbles quietly as we stare at Rhett and Thomas, who look like they’re in a trance. Both of them are sitting erect in their seats, forearms on the table, palms flat on the surface.
“Be quiet, Flynn,” Eileen hushes him. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her black hair is tied back in a ponytail.
With a wolfish grin, he takes step toward her and says, “I can think of a few ways you could silence me.”
“Not now, you two,” I snap. The last thing I want to witness is these two all over each other when my woman is missing. I’m a selfish prick that way.
Suddenly, Thomas and Rhett shudder, and Thomas flies out of his seat, the chair he was sitting in tips over and slams against the floor. His eyes are wide and his expression is painted in worry. He reads like an open book.
They got to her.
Before anyone notices, I’m on him, jerking him up by his collar.
“W-we got to her,” he stutters, I’m not sure out of shock from me grabbing him, or because of however they found her.
Shaking him, I yell, “Where is she?”
“She couldn’t tell us, but Daniel . . .” Thomas’s sentence trails off, his face growing slack in disbelief. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. It must be bad.
“What?” I bark.
“They’re torturing her, burning her and shit.” He closes his eyes tightly, as if the thought pains him. “She was so fucking skinny and . . . naked. She didn’t even realize it.” I release him and stumble back as his words slice through me. Fuck.
My girl.
My heart.
And they’re hurting her. It’s something I knew might happen, deep down, but I refused to allow the thought to take hold, hoping against all hope they were just holding her prisoner, drugging her at worst. The thought of her being hurt is an invisible weapon, shredding me to my core, and I have no defense against it. I can only stand still while I’m mutilated by an enemy I cannot see.
“Tell us everything you saw!” Flynn is on Thomas now, taking my place and jerking him around by the collar. Seeing Flynn and Eileen just as wrecked over finding Aldo as I am is a mild balm to the devastation I’ve felt since she was taken. They love her like a sister.
“Just a doctor with glasses, but no name,” Thomas manages.
“Dr. Bruce Whitlow.” Sarah’s voice chimes in from the kitchen doorway.
All heads turn to her and watch as she seemingly glides to Rhett. His narrowed green eyes stare up at her and his lips flatten. “You’ve known the entire time he had her and said nothing?” His voice is low, fingers laced on the table in front of him. It’s only now I realize he’s been staring at the wall like a fucking zombie while we’ve been going at Thomas.
“Only for a couple of weeks,” she answers him, but her gaze meets mine.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I lunge at her, slamming her into a wall, causing dishes to fall off a shelf and crash to the floor, shattering everywhere. “You’ve known who had her this entire time?” My hand grips her neck ferociously, but no one makes a move to stop me. No one could stop me.
“I don’t know where she is,” Sarah chokes out. “Only that he has her.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Whit shouts as he storms into the kitchen.
Okay, so technically no one can stop me, except Aldo’s brother, who happens to be the weakest person present. Taking a moment to collect myself so I don’t lash out at him—which takes all of my strength—I look up at the ceiling and silently count to ten.
“Anyone want to answer me?” Whit shouts again.
After I’m done counting, I grip Sarah’s throat tighter. Maybe I can’t kill her, but I can sure as hell make her think I will. “Whit,” I growl. “I’m about to drop a ton of shit on you in just a few short sentences. First, I’m in love with your sister, and she loves me. She’s been kidnapped by a hybrid I used to run with and is being held and tortured by a blood healer by the name of Dr. Bruce Whitlow. Your girlfriend here has known Aldo has been with the Doctor for a few weeks now, yet she shared none of this with us so we might rescue her.”
The kitchen is silent, all eyes on Whit as he processes the information I just laid on him. “Is this true Sarah?” Whit’s voice is stunned; his eyes narrow in hurt and disbelief. I release Sarah, allowing her to answer him, and she keels over coughing.
“Yes,” she manages as she grabs the kitchen counter to hold herself up.
In a flash, Whit slams her against the refrigerator, every muscle in his body tense, veins popping out of his neck in anger. “Why wouldn’t you do anything to help my sister?” he shouts as he pulls Sarah back and slams her against the fridge again, sending magnets and pictures the kids have drawn, to fall off. I have to give her some credit. She’s a blood healer, and could easily peel him off of her and fling him across the room, but she takes it. Maybe she really does love him.
“Whit, listen to me,” she begs, and I’ll be damned . . . those are real tears welling up in her evil blue eyes. Who knew the bitch could cry? I glance at Eileen, and she rolls her eyes dramatically, motioning her hand in front of her like she’s jerking off. Flynn manages to suppress his laughter, pressing his lips together. We all know Sarah showing softness is just her jerking us around.
Whit, in his rage, releases Sarah, then turns and reaches for Rhett, dragging him to his feet. Rhett grips Whit’s wrists, but doesn’t stop him. “And you knew, too, huh? What, Rhett? Did you just stop giving a fuck about my sister because she decided to be with someone else?”
“Whit . . . he didn’t know who had her!” Sarah cries and grabs his shoulders, but Whit bucks her off and backs away from both of them. “You don’t understand!”
“Then fucking explain!” he yells, his fists clenched at his sides. “You know what she is . . . what she . . .” he pauses and takes a deep breath, his eyes darting to mine, but darting away just as quickly. What the hell was that? Everyone stares at him as he clenches his eyes closed and shakes his head. He was about to say something, but stopped himself, and before I can question it, Sarah pipes up.
“The doctor,” Sarah sniffles, shaking her head as if searching for the right words. “Bruce Whitlow. He’s . . . he’s . . . your father.” She finishes and a collective gasp escapes everyone in the room.
Flynn looks to Eileen with wide eyes and mouths, “What the . . . ?”
Well, if today hasn’t turned out to be one giant mind fuck, I don’t know what it is. Kitten is being tortured by her father. Whit stumbles back. “You said you didn’t know his name.” His tone is eerily calm, like he’s unsure which emotion—rage, sadness, or disappointment—to let fuel him.
“I told her, but . . . I lied to you,” Sarah admits.
The room falls silent as Whit’s gaze moves to the floor and back to hers again. “After everything . . . we . . . you’d keep something like that from me?”
Sarah’s mouth is a hard flat line, her gaze quickly darting to me before returning to Whit. What the fuck are they talking about, and why do they keep looking at me? Something is definitely going on here. “I had my reasons,” Sarah defends herself, her face going hard, masking her emotions.
Losing my patience, I let out an angry growl that rattles the room, I slam, my fist down on the counter, splitting it in two and effectively regaining control of the conversation. Everyone practically jumps out of their skin with my outburst. “I don’t have time to witness your fucking lover’s quarrel. We need to find her. Now! Does she know it’s her father torturing her?”
“No,” Rhett answers numbly. He had no I.D. on when Thomas and I saw the image she showed to us. I only recognized him from the recon work we’ve done in the past. Sarah knows he’s their father because she was at the nest when the triplets mother was . . . impregnated.”
I pull a wide palm down my face and groan in frustration. “I don’t have time for this shit!” I yell and stomp toward Sarah. “Why did you fucking lie? We could’ve saved her by now.”
“No,” Sarah answers, her tears drying up as quickly as they appeared. “You can’t save her.”
“What do you mean we can’t save her?” Whit shouts.
The fear I’ve been fighting back for the last few weeks, the fear I may lose her, bubbles up inside me, and I snap. My fangs erupt and everyone in the room freezes except for Sarah, who I slam into the wall, again. “What have you seen?” I roar.
“If you bring her back, she won’t be herself. She’s been broken, Daniel.” Sarah shows no fear of me as she explains, which pisses me off even more. “They’ve damaged her. She’s has no control.”
She doesn’t have to say what words; her meaning is all too clear. She’s telling me when Aldo returns, she’ll be a savage—angry, uncaring, and dangerous. “Bullshit,” I mumble. “I’ll get her back, and I’ll help her.”
