He wiped his spittle and rasped. “No mole could fool wolves.”
“You did.”
He twisted a clownish grin. “For an entire year.”
“But how did they find out now?”
He shivered and stuttered, “Him. Henrik…beee…ttrayed…me.”
If only she could keep him alive. He’d be a treasure trove of information regarding how The Keep masked intentions from lycans. Even if they escaped, in less than an hour, he’d crash into a mass of bloody pulp. “Of course, he would. But how and why now?”
He closed his eyes, and his teeth chattered.
“Please, who else has penetrated our packs?” Her claws extended. “I’m offering you mercy.”
“Betray my kind?” Jack’s bloodshot eyes opened, and he lunged at her.
She kicked him in the groin, sending him crashing to the ground.
He lay folded on his side. “Bitch.”
“You attacked me.” She frowned. “Here, let me help up you to the cot.”
He grunted, but then began to seize.
Cricket called out. “Help!”
Finally, he stopped jerking. Blood oozed out from every orifice, and his skin peeled until he looked like a spongy mess of skin, blood and bursting guts. His eyes glazed over as death ended his pain.
Ooh. Gruesome even for her.
Cricket backed away, gagged on bile and threw up.
Dizzy, she leaned against the door and banged on the window. “Get me out!”
Wolfstrom and two other werewolves in lab coats came to look, their tablets out.
“How do you feel, my dear?” asked Wolfstrom.
Cricket shivered, and her muscles ached. No. Not me. “Sick.”
“Yes, our instruments indicate you have a fever. No bleeding yet, I see.”
“Eat shit.” Cricket snarled and blood laced drool dribbled from her mouth.” She whimpered, not so much from pain, but knowing in less than ten minutes, she’d melt into a puddle of goo. Better to die with some dignity as she came into the world. A wolf. She tore off her clothes and shifted.
“Subject is shifting, interesting.”
Cricket crawled to the door, her tongue lolling, and her body shook as if struck by lightning. Her eyes rolled back. Helpless and engulfed in darkness.
Slade blinked at the light shining in his left eye. Where was he? Who was he? He lay on a cot, electrodes attached to his temples, and an IV embedded in his wrist. He ripped off the electrodes from his skull and IV from his arm. He growled. “What the fuck!”
He flared his nostrils. A man, an alpha, smiled. “How do you feel, Prince Bain?” He signaled two betas to step closer. They picked up the plugs he’d pulled off.
Bain, that’s my name? He slowly sat and looked around. “I’m a prince?”
“Yes. A prince amongst our superior pack. Son of King Wolfstrom.”
“You smell familiar. Do I know you?” His German accent didn’t help his memory.