The Wolf Within (Purgatory #1)(3)

He opened his mouth and only a growl escaped. Not Holly. Keep me away from her. I’ll hurt her.

He could feel the fire spreading beneath his skin. Hands were on him, holding Duncan down because the drug wasn’t working.

“Uh, is he supposed to be this strong?” One of the agents—Shane, he knew Shane, they played cards every Wednesday—asked nervously. “Cause this hoss is—”

The strap across his chest broke free, and Duncan lunged up.

Not Holly!

Another needle was jabbed into his neck. One straight into his heart.

“That’ll stop a tiger,” Pate panted out the words.

A tiger…

Or a werewolf.

Duncan fell back against the gurney.

Holly, I’m sorry.

His eyes closed.

***

Holly Young gasped when the doors to her medical wing were shoved open. She had been packing up, ready to go home for a few hours of chilling on the couch and watching crime TV reruns but—

“Holly, an agent was bitten!”

She snapped to attention. Everyone in their division knew the risks of the job. When they started hunting monsters, they’d all realized that the agents faced the risk of one day becoming a monster. Of getting exposed.

Bitten.

She yanked on her gloves even as she motioned toward the operating table on her right. “Put him there, and let me check him out.” Her heart was racing, but her hands were rocky steady.“What are we dealing with?” Holly asked as she rushed forward. The agent was strapped down. Unmoving. She couldn’t see who it was. There were over two dozen agents in Seattle’s Para Unit.

“Multiple werewolf bites,” Pate told her.

Multiple. She gulped. “You know what’s happening to him. He’ll die from the poison in those bites.” There wasn’t much she could do for a werewolf bite. If the agent had been bitten by a vampire, she could have given him a transfusion, made sure the wound was closed. Possibly saved him.

But a werewolf bite?

Death sentence.

“He’s not dying.” Pate stared at her with narrowed eyes. “The agent has already started to transform.”

She almost dropped her stethoscope at that news.

A human transforming into a werewolf? That was so rare.

And deadly.

Her heart drummed even faster in her chest, and her hands gave the slightest tremble as she hurried toward the table. The other agents had transferred the wounded man onto the table she’d indicated, and they had already strapped him down once more. Holly elbowed them aside, trying to make her way through to see the poor agent who’d just been given a one-way ticket to hell.

She saw his dark hair first. Thick and a little too long. Then her gaze fell to his strong cheekbones, knife sharp. She recognized the hard blade of his nose, but his eyes were closed, so she didn’t see his normal bright blue stare.

Duncan?

“Get back,” Pate ordered the other agents as he lifted his hands. “Clear the room so she can work!” Then Pate’s fingers curled around her elbow, and he leaned in close to her. His voice lowered as he whispered, “You keep him sane.” An order. Or a plea?

She stared down at Duncan’s powerful body. Blood was all over him. Already drying on his ripped clothes. On his neck. His arms. But even as she stared at him, the long, thick gashes on his body were closing before her eyes.

Werewolf healing. That was some kind of magic.

“He’s going to be very strong,” Pate murmured, the soft words just for her ears. The other agents had already backed up. Backed up, but she noticed that Duncan’s partner, Elias, still had his gun out.

And aimed at Duncan’s unconscious body.

She moved her own body a few inches, deliberately putting herself in the line of fire. You aren’t shooting him!

“We can use him,” Pate said, his body brushing against hers. “If we can control him, then this could be our chance.”

This wasn’t a chance. It was a man’s life.

She reached out her hand to touch Duncan’s skin. Even through her latex glove, she could feel the heat pouring off his body.

“Clear the room!” Pate snarled again. Because the other agents were lingering. She didn’t blame them. One of their own had just been taken down in a way that was no doubt a nightmare fear for them all.

“But, sir…” Elias stepped forward. And he still had his gun out. “He’s too dangerous to leave alone with her! He could attack—”

Pate’s shaking head stopped his words. “He’s not going to wake up for hours. And by then, he’ll be collared.”

Collared. When werewolves were brought in for containment at the facility, the first order of business was always to suit them up with a silver collar. The collar controlled them. Kept them in check every moment. If the werewolves tried to attack anyone, then silver was automatically released from those collars and injected into their blood via tiny needles.

The collars themselves were unbreakable, mostly because they were made of silver, and no werewolf had ever been strong enough to fight the silver and escape.

The old story about silver being the weakness for the wolf? Luckily for humans, that story had turned out to be true. If the werewolves hadn’t been given some sort of weakness, the humans would be screwed.

But the idea of Duncan…collared like that…