Page 117 of Unhinged Alphas

I should be terrified. Everything about this creature screams danger. But as I stare into those glowing eyes, I sense something familiar. The rage, the pain, the loneliness… I've seen those same emotions in Wraith's eyes. In my own, reflected back at me in the sterile mirrors and metal surfaces of the Refinement Center.

A low, rumbling growl builds in theKnight's chest. It starts as a vibration I can feel through the floor, growing until it fills the air between us. There's no mistaking the threat in that sound. But beneath the aggression, I catch something else.

Pain.

Confusion.

Maybe even a hint of fear.

He's as trapped as I am. Maybe more so. At least I can move freely in my cell. He's chained to the wall like an animal, every movement agony.

As tired as I am, I take a hesitant step closer to the glass, ignoring every instinct screaming at me to back away. His growl intensifies, a hollow sound from the pits of hell, but I force myself to hold my ground.

I press my hand against the glass, palm out. A universal gesture of peace. "My name is Ivy," I continue, speaking slowly and clearly. "What's yours?"

For a long moment, there's no reaction. Then, with agonizing slowness, he raises his human hand. Inch by inch, it moves toward the glass separating us. My breath catches in my throat as his massive palm presses against the barrier, mirroring my own.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Sirens shriek to life, their wail piercing throughmy skull. Red emergency lights flash, bathing everything in a hellish glow. But worse than the noise, worse than the lights, is what happens next.

Nozzles hidden in the ceiling of the Knight's cell hiss open. A sickly greenish-yellow gas pours out, filling the air around him in seconds. The Knight's body goes rigid, his muscles locking up as the gas hits his skin. He stumbles back from the glass with an agonized roar, armor clanking with each thunderous stomp, his mechanical arm lashing out and tearing gouges in the walls. The spears in his back grind against his bones as he writhes.

My stomach heaves. I press my hand against my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit as the stench of the gas seeps through the ventilation system, acrid and chemical.

"Stop it!" I scream, pounding my fists against the glass. "You're killing him!"

But no one comes. No one listens.

The Knight crashes to his knees. The floor shakes beneath me, and I stumble back, catching myself on the edge of my mattress. The chains around his neck and torso pull taut with a metallic shriek, jerking him back like a puppet on cruel strings. His head droops, chin resting against his chest. The eerie blue glow behind his mask flickersand fades.

But I can still see the rise and fall of his massive chest. Still hear his labored breathing. I can't look away. Can't close my eyes. Every instinct screams at me to turn my back, to curl up in the corner and pretend this isn't happening.

But I force myself to watch.

To bear witness to this horror.

Because someone has to. Because no one should suffer alone.

The gas keeps pouring in, relentless. The Knight's breathing grows more ragged, each inhale a wet, rattling sound that makes my skin crawl. How long can they keep this up before it kills him?

"Please," I whisper, pressing my forehead against the glass. "Please, stop."

As if in answer to my plea, the nozzles in the ceiling hiss closed. The sirens cut off abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. The emergency lights flicker out, plunging us back into the harsh fluorescent glare.

For a long moment, nothing moves. The Knight remains on his knees, held upright only by the chains. I hold my breath, straining to hear any sign of life from across the hall.

"Come on," I whisper. "Breathe. Please breathe."

As if he heard me, the Knight's massive chestexpands in a shuddering gasp. The chains rattle as he coughs.

He's alive.

Thank fuck, he's alive.

"I'm going to get you out of here," I say, my voice low. "I don't know how yet, but I will. I promise."

It's not an empty promise.