Electric Storm (8 page)

“None.” They did something much worse.

Trish snarled, shoving away from the table and stalked forward. “They made me their whore, while you, their little princess, were safely tucked away from it all.”

Dominic stood and carefully placed his napkin on the table in a very exact manner as he battled his temper. “Trish, you will want to sit down and shut up.”

She whirled on him. “Even now, he protects you. You’re everyone’s little darling. My God,” she struck her arms out and turned slowly, “doesn’t anyone else see this?”

Bitterness and hatred poured through the room. Years of festering had taken its toll.

Dominic opened his mouth to speak, but Raven forestalled him. “Tell me Trish, how many times did they take you to the labs for tests?”

She rolled her eyes. “You think a few tests equaled what we went through?”

Raven ignored her. “How many times did they torture you?” When Trish opened her mouth to speak, Raven stepped closer. Energy curled around her feet, lashing upward around her legs like roots, sinking deep into her bones.

“Each time they raped me instead of you.”

Raven closed her eyes. “You want to know why they didn’t breed me?”

“Oh, this should be good.” Trish crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

“I’d been a prisoner at the compound for nearly twenty years.” The confession startled Trish, but didn’t ease her anger one bit. “They played the same games with me a few years after I was admitted. As soon as they deemed me old enough to breed.” Memories long buried rose to the surface. A little spark at her core wrapped around her in response as if to protect her. But with it came the delicious urge to lash out at the cause of the pain and make everything go away. She took a shallow breath, fighting the need.

Trish flinched, and Raven didn’t need a mirror to know her eyes had changed from pewter to a vivid blue. It happened whenever the current rode her hard. “They stopped the games the same day I fought back and killed everyone who came near me.”

Trisha blanched. She leaned forward, balled her hands into fists and planted them on the table. “And do you think I just let them do what they wanted without fighting?” She whirled and left without another word.

The room remained a frozen tableau. She hadn’t suspected the group treated her any different, but she knew that for a lie. She was an outsider, even with the people closest to her.

Afraid to look at anyone for fear they’d see the hurt, Raven gazed out the window. She suspected that many of them knew about her past. She’d made her peace with it. Until she dredged it all back to life.

She should’ve left well enough alone instead of playing one-upmanship with Trish.

“Raven–”

“No,” she cut Dominic off. He had nothing to say that she hadn’t already said to herself a thousand times. And she sure as hell didn’t need anyone’s sympathies. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew she hated me, I just didn’t know why. That’s no excuse for the way I acted.” Energy spiked, pulling from the room and wallowing in her body, building with the pain.

“You have the right to defend yourself.” London’s gruff voice only made it worse.

She needed to leave before she did anything else she’d regret. “We’ll discuss the meeting later. If you’ll excuse me.”

Raven left by the back door and quickly lost herself in the woods, aware of the faint outline of blue that swarmed over the skin of her hands, extending up past her wrists now. It was getting worse. The blue lines darker, more pronounced.

Her greatest fear was losing control, and each day her control weakened more, no matter how she tried to stop it. She couldn’t live with herself if she hurt someone she cared for.

Not again.

 
Chapter Seven

SUNSET

“
H
ow many shifters are missing?” Raven directed her question at Dominic, not lifting her gaze from her computer as she methodically entered data into the system. Thankfully, no one mentioned her blow-up earlier that afternoon, and she wanted to keep it that way. She shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth and waited for his answer.

“Seventeen.”

The number snapped her out of her funk. Her hands hesitated over the keys, and her gaze shot to his. “And we’re only
now
learning about it?”

“There have been no police reports, no calls from concerned relatives. Nothing to hint at foul play.” Frustration rippled through his voice in a rumbled growl.

“Then how do you know there’s anything wrong?” She wanted to shove back her chair and demand that Jackson and Taggert give her space to breathe. The study seemed to shrink in size. Their scents wrapped around her, tearing down the wall she was desperately trying to build between them.

Instead, she suffered in silence, unwilling to admit even to herself how their nearness affected her, tempting her to relax her shields and be herself. That could never happen.

“Instinct. Experience.” Dominic leaned over her desk, his face inches from her, his autumn scent helping to drag her attention back to business. She grabbed onto the excuse with both hands, discretely scooting the chair closer to the desk and away from all the men crowding around her. “It’s their MO.”

It
meaning the scientists. She couldn’t dispute his claim, but not everything evil was spawned by the labs. “Do you have any proof?”

He straightened, running his hand through his wavy hair in a rare show of emotion. “Nothing yet.”

He retreated across the room and propped himself against the window frame, his green eyes calculating as he studied her. The pose put her on edge. He was up to something. She braced herself, knowing she wouldn’t like it. “Speak.”

“That’s why I want to pull you in for this one.”

She was right. The thought of entering the labs again sent a flash of ice through her veins, rooting her to her chair when she wanted to bolt.

“This is unnecessary. The wolves would’ve been notified of any large scale disappearance and taken action.” Jackson bristled, the heat of his anger lapping at her back as he unobtrusively inched closer to her. She was half convinced his protest stemmed more from Dominic upsetting her than taking issue with the missing shifters.

The confrontation and sudden tension forced her mind into action. Both wolves locked eyes and refused to back down. She took a deep, steadying breath and broke the stalemate by relenting on her rule to never get involved in the labs again.

“Get me a list of names.” That’s the best she could do. She’d stopped hunting labs years ago, unable to bear witnessing the remnants of failed experiments and wade through all the pain that saturated the walls. Not if she wanted to remain sane. She’d delegated the hunt to Dominic and his crew, but there was one thing she could do. She could find these missing people. 

Jackson turned to her, thunder in his eyes. “If there was something happening in the community, everyone would know. You can’t hide that many missing shifters.”

The insight into pack life snagged her attention, and she swiveled in her seat, pinning him with a look. Only to find his attention solely on her. There was just something sexy about a man when he focused on you so intently that no one else in the room existed for him. She swallowed hard, trying to gather her scattering thoughts. “You have a network.”

He hesitated, and the moment shattered. Back came the imperial Ogre. “Each pack has an enforcer. They pass information along from one to another.”

“And if one is corrupt?”

“No.”

“No?” Raven gave a half smile, enjoying baiting him. “What do you mean no? Are they incorruptible?”

“We are when it comes to the safety of the community.” The answer was straight and honest. He truly believed it.

She didn’t. Power can easily be bought regardless of the race. “Tell me, Jackson, if you had the choice to have your whole clan slaughtered or give up a few members, what would you chose?”

“Neither. There’s always a way–”

“Not always.” She dropped her gaze, turning back toward the computer and pulled up a program that provided a back way into police records without leaving a trace. “If one pack was in trouble, would they go to another for help?”

He answered more slowly this time. “Pack business stays within the pack. Concerns are brought to the Council of Five, the governing body for all paranormals.”

“So you truly don’t know the workings of all the packs. One might not be as honorable as another.” The image of him shaking his head reflected in her monitor as she worked her way deeper into the system to the paranormal files officials denied existed.

“An enforcer wouldn’t let anything happen to the pack.”

“Then you should check that all the enforcers are alive. Or maybe they were ordered to cull the pack and decided to earn an extra buck in the process.” She envied him the strength of his convictions and the absolute protection offered by the enforcers, no matter how illusory.

He crossed his arms, the line of his jaw uncompromising. “We don’t work that way. We’re there to protect, we’re not assassins.” He quickly switched subjects. “If I can see the list of names, I might be able to learn something.”

“No.” She didn’t want him caught up in this business. She wouldn’t allow him to interfere.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “My guess is that the missing shifters are unregistered rogues who’ve since traveled to a new territory or died.”

The answer was plausible, but it didn’t take away the niggling at the back of her mind that something wasn’t right. The way the corner of Dominic’s eyes tightened said he felt it, too.

They’d both learned to sense things in the compound. It’d kept them alive long past when they were slated for death. “How can you tell the difference between a pack member and a rogue?”

“If you’re in person, you can smell the difference. Some can mask it, but only to a certain extent. Rogues are loners and usually have a wild scent that marks them as different.”

“Then the list of names wouldn’t help. What can you do with pictures?” With a few clicks, mug shots of three people on her list filled the screen. She squinted, trying to see if she could pick out subtle differences that would betray them as a rogue.

Jackson leaned over her shoulder, much too close for her peace of mind and ability to breathe.

“The look in their eyes gives them away. Wild. Dangerous. Eager for violence,” Jackson said, appearing lost in thought.

“That describes half the shifters I know.” Raven gave him a slanted smile, ignoring the skip in her heart and the flare of heat under her skin.

Jackson rubbed his jaw, a stall tactic if she ever saw one as he debated whether to tell her the truth or not. “Rogues have a harder time controlling their beasts. It’s why pack is so important. Most rogues have been away so long they can’t pass for normal anymore. A light color encircles their pupils as their animal gains dominance. It’s the main reason why they’re put down whenever possible.”

Jackson’s explanation made a sick sort of sense. If they turned feral and killed, they posed a threat to both humans and pack. No one could afford to have the wars return.

Whether beast or man, the human always remained dominant, the animal portion just an extension of that person. Memories from the labs surfaced. Of how she could tell when shifters lost control when caged or tortured too long. After a while, she sensed wild energy pouring off them as their human side receded more and more. There was usually no coming back from that. “But if they join a pack, doesn’t that help?”

“Most of the time it’s already too late.” Jackson shook his head, completely convinced that death was the best option. She just wished she could be as sure. She glanced at Taggert, her own rogue, curious at his reaction to what could easily have been his fate, but his face gave nothing away.

The clock chimed ten, startling her out of her first, long overdue lesson in pack law. Though reluctant, Jackson had finally opened up a little. The rest of the discussion had to wait. She closed the laptop. “If you’ll excuse me, my appointment is about to arrive.”