Kathleen Peacock - Thornhill

Once it was over, the man in white left and the remaining guards followed.

We waited. After a while, a few people were brave enough to pull out their cell phones, but just like in the truck, no one could get a signal. No one spoke. It was like we were all scared the guards would return at the first whispered word.

Eventually, wolves began getting called out of the room in groups of twos and threes as the results of the blood tests came back.

All but Mel. She was taken back the way we had come. As long as she didn’t argue when they called her a reg, she’d get a ticket out of here.

At least I had managed to help someone.

Kyle and I ended up the last two.

He glanced at the door, then turned and gripped my arms. “Tell me you didn’t do something with the samples. Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid.” He stared at me as if he knew the answer but was praying he was wrong.

I swallowed. “I swapped.”

Kyle uttered a string of profanity that would have left Jason impressed, then stopped abruptly and sucked in a deep breath. I could actually see the effort he exerted to bring himself under control. “You have to tell them the truth. They’ll retest you. They’ll have to.”

I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you. Or Serena. It’s my fault you guys are here.”

“Mac, it’s a camp. You’ll get torn apart.” He ran a hand over his face. “If you don’t tell them it was a mistake, I will.”

“If you do, that other girl—Mel—will just get yanked back. You heard her in the courtyard. This’ll give her the chance to go home. Do you really want to take that from her?”

“You don’t belong here.” The words were a low growl.

“Neither do you or Serena,” I tossed back. “We don’t even know what camp this is. If I stay for a few days, maybe I can learn something. Something that could help get you out. Something the RfW could use, maybe.” The RfW—Regs for Werewolves—was one of the few groups who lobbied for werewolf rights. “You know they’d kill to find out what’s going on in the camps.”

Kyle stared at me as though I had completely lost my mind.

“There’s Hank!” I said, desperately grasping at straws even I didn’t have faith in. “You heard Eve: She thinks he’s going to come for us. And there’s Jason.” I grabbed Kyle’s arm in a death grip. “I’ll keep my head down and watch what’s going on—at least find out where we are—and in a few days, I’ll tell them I’m a reg. That way I can at least let Trey know where Serena is. Please, Kyle, just a few days.”

Emotions cycled across his face. Worry. Frustration. Guilt. And then resignation. He reached out and brushed the hair back from my forehead.

The door to the waiting room opened. Finally, he nodded.

We were led to a room that was small, sterile, and white. It reminded me of those interrogation rooms you saw in movies, a feeling not helped by the mirror that ran the length of one wall or the two guards—a man and a woman—who watched us with detached boredom.

The man was tall and lanky with a shock of red hair and pale skin. The woman had a gray crew cut and a body as square as a brick. Both looked like they’d rather be in bed.

They weren’t the only ones.

A woman with tortoiseshell glasses and a black blazer covered a yawn before telling us to hold out our left arms. I was so panicked at the thought of another blood test that I was almost relieved when the male guard stepped forward and snapped a three-inch-wide metal cuff around my wrist. A four-digit number was stamped on the front.

“These ID bracelets are designed to expand and contract when your body shifts,” explained the woman in a voice as dry and uninterested as a desert wind. “Any attempt to remove them will trigger an automatic alert to the warden and security staff.”

I ran my hand over the cuff. It was thick and there were seams halfway around, like someone had sliced it in two. The seams weren’t welded together, and when I tugged on the top half of the bracelet, I caught a glimpse of another circle of metal nestled inside.

The glare the woman shot me was so sharp that I flinched. “I was just looking,” I said, quickly letting go. “I wasn’t trying to take it off.”

She pursed her lips and handed Kyle and me each a clipboard. “Fill out these admission forms in the waiting room.”

The guards ushered us through the door, down a hall, and into a long, narrow space that looked more like a holding pen than a waiting room. There were three doors—the one we had just come through and two at the far end—and the ceiling was so low that I could have touched it had I reached up and stretched.

Every surface was painted a dull gray; the only color came from the teens who were sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the walls as they filled out admission forms.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Serena, but she looked less than thrilled to see me. “Tell me she didn’t do what I think she did,” she said as the wolves next to her slid down to make room for Kyle and me.

“Don’t get him started,” I said, eyeing the guards as they took up positions across the room. I lowered myself to the ground and dropped my gaze to the admission form. Seriously? I thought as I reached for a pen that had been tied to the clipboard. They kidnapped us and they’re worried we’re going to steal office supplies?

I shook my head and focused on the questions.

Full Name? Mackenzie . . . I racked my brain for a fake last name and somehow found myself writing down Walsh . Amy’s last name.

Age? Seventeen.

How old were you when you became infected? Did you have any health conditions prior to infection? Do you often feel weak and dizzy outside of shifts? How many times a month, on average, do you involuntarily shift?

For most of the questions, I snuck glances at Kyle’s and Serena’s answers and just put down something in the middle.

Just as I reached the last question, the woman with the glasses reappeared with the man who had collected our blood samples. They began taking clipboards, pausing a moment to scan each set of answers before moving to the next wolf.

The woman’s brow creased in a frown as she glanced over Serena’s form.

Apprehension fluttered in my stomach as she pulled one of the two guards—the man with the red hair—out into the hall.

A moment later, they were back.

The woman cleared her throat. “Serena, I need you to come with me.”

Serena reached for my hand and squeezed so hard it was all I could do not to flinch. “Mac . . .” Her voice was a strained whisper.

When she didn’t move right away, the guards started forward.

Kyle pushed himself to his feet and stepped in front of us. “What do you want with her?”

“We just need to ask her a few more questions,” said the woman with the glasses.

I peered around Kyle’s legs. The woman’s tone had been reassuring, but her eyes were dead. Hank always said there was a world of difference between lying well and being able to lie with your eyes.

Kyle caught it, too. “Why can’t she answer them here?”

In response, the guards drew their Tasers. The wolves to either side of us parted like the Red Sea, and my pulse pounded so loudly that the blowback rang in my ears.

All Kyle had done was ask a question.

I waited for them to order him to sit or move, but there were no commands and no warnings. In the space between heartbeats, the female guard squeezed the trigger.

I screamed Kyle’s name as he fell to the ground. I tried to reach for him but Serena held me back as he was hit by another Taser.

Kyle’s spine bowed and I thought I heard something crack before he fell horribly still. Other than the rise and fall of his chest, he looked dead.