The cavalry had come to the rescue. Rhoan, Jack, and Kade had joined the fray and were dealing with the chameleons with brutal efficiency. I'd never seen my brother in action before, and it was truly scary to do so now He was fast, efficient, and utterly ruthless—everything a guardian should be, and everything I thought my brother wasn't.
And while Kade mightn't be as fast or as furious, he was every bit as efficient Obviously, he wasn't just a builder.
I looked away The bright flame of Quinn's presence had disappeared, and for a moment, fear surged Then the rich scent of sandal wood stung the air, and a second later, he was kneeling beside me. His beautiful face was scratched, his sweater torn, the burgundy color deepened by blood.
"Are you all right?" The lilt in his voice was as fierce as I'd ever heard it, and fear gleamed in his dark eyes. "Did they bite you?"
I showed him the shoulder. He swore softly. "We'll have to get that tended to. The bastards are well-known carriers of several different viral infections."
"The Directorate team are about five minutes off arriving," Rhoan said, appearing out of the remaining melee. He scooped me up in his arms. "We've a med-team amongst them, just in case something like this happened."
He ran me through the night, down the hill, and into the section I'd seen but not visited, then left. The med-team was already setting up when we arrived.
The doctor took one look at my shoulder and hand, and hustled me into the nearest room. I was stripped, cleaned, and patched, then had several of the biggest needles I'd ever seen shoved into my butt. They hurt more than the damn bite did.
"Just keep an eye on that shoulder," the doctor advised as he stripped off his gloves. "You wolves haven't a history with viral infections as a rule, but even so, if you see any inflammation or start feeling off-color, just come in and see us."
I nodded.
He glanced at the com-screen on the desk. "There's a note here on your file to remind you of your appointment Friday."
I blinked. "What appointment?"
"With Dr. Harvey. At four."
I stared at him for a moment, my heart racing. Dr. Harvey was the specialist I'd been referred to—the man who would tell me whether I could have kids or not. He wasn't a Directorate doctor, but he'd been vetted and approved by them. "Does it say anything else?"
The doc glanced at me. "It's something to do with test results."
Oh God, oh God. In two days I would know, one way or another. And now that the crunch was actually near, I wasn't sure I was ready for it.
"Thanks, Doc."
He nodded and turned away. I carefully pulled my clothes back on, then walked out to the waiting area. Rhoan rose from the chair. "Verdict?"
"I'm fine." I hesitated, looking around. "Where's Quinn?"
"Waiting outside. He didn't like the feel of that place."
A smile twitched my lips. "Really?"
"He's an empath, remember. He said the rooms held too many bad memories and pain."
Quinn had some fairly tough shields to protect him, so if he'd retreated, it had to be bad. Which made me damn glad empathy wasn't one of my problems.
Rhoan cupped a hand under my good elbow, and escorted me toward the door. "You feel ready to confront what might have happened in this place, or would you rather leave it until tomorrow?"
I'd rather not confront it at all, but that wasn't an option and we both knew it. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Let's get this over with."
His gaze searched mine, his expression filled with concern. "You sure?"
"No. But I'd rather not wait."
He nodded, and we moved out into the night. Quinn was waiting one building away, and fell in step beside Rhoan. He didn't say anything and, for once, I had no sense of his emotions.
We walked back up that hill and down the alley. We turned right, and there before us stood yet another concrete building. My steps faltered, and my mouth went dry.
I didn't want to go in that building.
Didn't want to remember.
"You don't have to do this," Rhoan said softly.
I licked my lips. "I do."
Only my knees were weak, and my feet wouldn't move, and I couldn't seem to drag enough air into my lungs.
Rhoan's grip tightened. "Deep breaths," he said.
I obeyed. It didn't seem to help much.
"I'm with you. If it gets too bad, I'll get you out. I promise."
I swallowed, pulled my elbow free, and grabbed his hand. Tight. "Let's go."
Before whatever courage I had deserted me.
Quinn opened the door. He had his vampire face on, yet concern sparkled in his eyes. Or maybe that was a trick of the light flowing from the brightly lit corridor beyond the door.
Or even wishful thinking.
Our footsteps echoed in the silence, the concrete cold under my toes. Every five steps there was a door—an indication that the rooms beyond were small. We didn't stop at any of them, walking to the end of the corridor and turning left.
Jack came out of the end room as we reached the halfway point. He was carrying a clipboard and his expression was grim. "This place is nothing more than a breeding pen."
We stopped, and my gaze went past him. Saw the white walls. The neat tuck of white sheet around the mattress. The sparkle of the chains that rested atop of it.
My stomach churned. "This was my room?"
Jack glanced down at the folder he was holding.
"Yeah." He hesitated. "You were in a coma after the accident. They didn't expect you to come out of it."
"I escaped because they didn't bother to either drug me or chain me, like everyone else."
Jack nodded. "I'm no doctor, but looking at these records I have to say it's a wonder you did recover."
I released Rhoan's hand and took a step toward the room. A chill ran down my spine, and something sharp flickered through my head.
I swallowed heavily, and took another step.
Red needles of fire lanced through my brain, and sweat broke out across my brow. I shuddered, clenching my fists, fighting the urge to run as far and as fast as I could from this place and the memories that stirred in agony.
Rhoan touched my shoulder, and I jumped.
"Maybe you shouldn't push," he said softly.
"There's something I need to remember."
Why I was so sure, I couldn't say. If I was in a coma, then surely this place would mean nothing to me. Yet I'd become aware enough to escape. Maybe the answers we needed were locked behind that threatening wall of pain.
I licked dry lips and took another step.
The pain became a tidal wave, and I was falling, screaming, to the floor.
Chapter Five
Memories reeled through a sea of agony, fractured images of a violent movie, viewed through a broken projector. The car that had hit mine from behind; the tree I couldn't avoid. The warm flush of blood on my face and arms, then pain, and darkness, and the sensation of floating. Nothing but floating, for what seemed like forever.
Then sounds crept into the mix. A steady beeping. The click of heels against flooring. The slap of flesh against flesh, and the sense of violation.
Finally, smells. Antiseptic. Sex. Forest, pine and orange blossom.
The last three were a strange combination I'd smelled before.
Riley!
The voice was distant. Demanding. It echoed through the agony locking my mind, nipping like a terrier. But the pain swirled, and I couldn't tell where the voice came from. Couldn't reach it.
Riley!
It was sharper this time, more urgent. The clouds of agony stirred, dissipating. Suddenly, Quinn was in my mind, standing between me and the pain, holding out a ghostly hand I clasped it, and it felt real, and solid, and oh so warm.