Page 138 of Unhinged Alphas

Worth it.

I spit out the dismembered fingers and relish the guard's anguished screams for a brief moment before the consequences set in.

Fuckers can't say I didn't warn them.

They force me down onto the examination table, pinning my arms and legs. I buck and twist, but it's no use. There are too many of them, and they're too strong.

"Sedate her!" someone shouts over the chaos.

"No!" I snarl, redoubling my efforts to break free. "Don't you dare!"

A needle pricks my arm, and almost immediately, my limbs grow heavy. The world starts to blur around the edges, but I fight against the encroaching darkness with every ounce of strength I have left.

"Fuck... you..." I slur, my eyes struggling to focus on the faces above me.

The world swims in and out of focus, a kaleidoscope of blurry shapes and muffled sounds. My limbs feel like lead, heavy and unresponsive. I try to move, to fight against the fog clouding my mind, but it's useless. My body won't obey.

Voices filter through the haze, distorted and distant. I strain to make sense of them, to piece together what's happening.

But the words slip away like smoke, impossible to grasp. I want to scream, to demand answers, but my tongue lies thick and useless in my mouth. Panic claws at my chest, but even that feels muted, dulled by whatever drug they pumped into my system.

Time loses all meaning. I drift in and out of consciousness, caught in a limbo between waking and dreaming. Fragments of memory flashbehind my closed eyelids. The forest where I grew up, my mother's face, the day the soldiers came.

A cool hand touches my forehead, and I flinch away instinctively. Or at least, I try to. My body barely twitches.

I force my eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights. The world slowly comes into focus, revealing the sterile white ceiling of what I assume is still the examination room. I turn my head, ignoring the wave of nausea the movement brings, and see a cluster of doctors huddled around a bank of monitors. They glance up at me warily.

I might not be able to talk, but I can still raise my middle finger.

One doctor raises her eyebrows in shock and offense and opens her mouth to respond, but another scientist calls her over. I strain to hear their hushed conversation, but my ears are ringing too much to make anything out other than "feral" and "tests" and "asset."

I close my eyes, fighting back tears of frustration. The sedative must still be in my system, because despite my anger and fear, I feel myself drifting off again. I fight it, clinging to consciousness with everything I have.

But the darkness swallows me whole.

Chapter

Thirty-One

IVY

Cold. So fucking cold.

My eyelids feel like they're glued shut, but I force them open. Big mistake. Blinding red light stabs into my brain, and I squeeze them closed again with a groan. The pain is excruciating, like someone's taken a jackhammer to my skull.

Slowly, carefully, I try again. This time the world swims into focus, all harsh angles and gleaming metal. Surgical tables with leather straps. Trays of shiny instruments flashing in the strobing red light. Tanks of bubbling liquid that give off an acrid stench.

I'm in some kind of... lab? Torture chamber?

Probably both.

How the fuck did I even get here?

I try to push myself up, but my arms collapse under me. Useless. The room spins, and I fight back a wave of nausea. Whatever they dosed me with is still running through my system, turning my muscles to jelly. My limbs feel like they're made of lead, and every movement sends sparks of pain shooting through my nerves.

"Fuck," I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat feels like I've been gargling glass, raw and burning. I can't smell a damn thing or breathe through my nose at all. I snort and taste blood, metallic and warm. I spit it out on the floor, watching as it splatters against the cold metal.

Laughter echoes from somewhere behind me, making me flinch. The sound grates against my ears, setting my teeth on edge.