Abandoned and Unseen (Branded Packs #2)(29)

She growled at Frank as he walked into her line of sight. He tilted his head as he studied her, his face drawn. He wore his precise tie and shirt, a pristine, white lab coat over his clothes. He smelled of blood, but whose, she didn’t know. The fact that she didn’t see spatters on his clothing worried her. What had he been doing?

“Keep growling, Anya. You’re an animal, caged and useless. Well, perhaps not useless. I’ll use you to further my experiments. And the brats you birthed will help me, as well.”

Her bear roared, clawing at her, but she kept silent. She pulled at her shackles and felt blood seep down her skin as the metal tore her flesh. She snapped at him, knowing if she shifted right then, she’d lose her hands. The metal around her wrists wouldn’t conform when she shifted, but it might be worth it.

Only she didn’t know where her boys were, and she needed them safe before she killed the bastard in front of her.

“Where are my sons?” she bit out. Her teeth elongated slightly and she sucked in a deep breath, willing them to go back to normal. No shifting. Not yet.

Frank shook his head, looking a little more haggard than he had all those years ago but still f*cking smug. She wanted to rip that smile right off his face.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” He gestured toward the corner, and she turned.

It was only by sheer force of will that she didn’t react to the sight. Cole lay on a metal table, blood pooling at his sides. He had his head turned toward her, his eyes glassy with pain. God, he looked so pale. Frank had cut him up, and Anya was damn sure it wasn’t just for science. The butcher wanted to play. Rivulets of blood and who knew what else trailed down his body. Frank had sliced into his chest and sides, and perhaps even his legs from the blood on Cole’s jeans. None of the cuts looked too deep, but she couldn’t tell.

That must be the blood she’d scented on the man she’d once let touch her. Frank must have changed his clothes while she’d been out of it thanks to the tranq.

Her body shook at the thought of what Owen and Lucas were going through. Bile filled her mouth and her bear pressed at her. She turned toward the butcher that had once deceived her, barely holding back her rage.

“Where. Are. My. Sons?”

Frank’s eyes widened at her tone, and she saw a sliver of fear slide through them. Good.

“I haven’t started on their part of my work yet,” Frank said as he straightened his tie. She didn’t allow herself to show her relief. Not until they were in her arms and safe would she breathe again fully. He could be lying for all she knew. Frank loved to lie.

She inhaled again just as someone opened a door in the hallway.

There.

She knew those scents—a brush of paper, a spear of grass, and all little boy.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to cry. Her boys were here, just down the hallway. She rolled her wrists as much as possible, trying to find a way out of her chains. Frank studied her face for a moment, probably wondering why she wasn’t speaking, but f*ck him. She’d find a way out of these restraints, find a way to get Cole off that table, and find a way to get her babies out of his hellhole.

Frank shook his head after a moment then walked toward Cole. She tugged at her chains again, trying to break free.

“I’ve studied a few feline shifters in the past, but I enjoy looking inside them to see if there is anything different between the species.” Frank picked up a scalpel and studied the light glinting off the blade.

“Funny thing, when we first heard about your kind, some thought if we opened you up, we’d find your animal half inside.” Frank pressed the blade along Cole’s skin and tilted his head again. “I never thought that, as it didn’t make sense biology-wise.” He started cutting. Anya screamed. “Only, nothing makes sense biology-wise with you filth.” He cut again. This time, Cole let out a groan as Frank sliced along his stomach.

“Stop it!” she yelled. “You’re not studying him. You’re playing.”

Frank didn’t pay attention to her, his concentration on his oh-so-precise cuts. “I’ve studied your blood, your genetics. I’ve studied it all. I don’t understand how to use that research to make a shifter of my own.”

“Bastard.” Bile filled her throat again as more blood pooled on the floor under Cole’s body. Shifters were born or made by the bite of a mate or Alpha. Humans couldn’t figure it out with science. Although, she knew they’d tried. The deaths of so many of her people were proof of that.

“It’s going to be okay, Anya,” Cole rasped, his voice weak. How long had she been out? How much blood had he lost?

“I know,” she lied. Cole met her gaze, the pain in his eyes killing her slowly.

“You see, no matter how far I dig, I can’t find fur. I can’t find the genetic disposition that leads to shifting. It makes no sense. You make no sense.” He dug the blade in and Anya screamed, Cole’s voice mixing with hers.

The man she loved, the shifter she knew to be her mate blinked once then closed his eyes. His chest didn’t move, his breaths didn’t come.

She strained to hear a heartbeat but only heard the thundering of her own.

No. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Cole was not dead. Her mate was not dead. She pulled at the chains once more, rage flowing through her like a river of lava. The restraints buckled at the wall, the sound of strained metal reaching her ears. So close to freedom. SO close to killing the human bastard who dared to touch what was hers.