Page 13 of Caging Fire
His physical abuse lessened after he accidentally went too far and broke Killian’s jaw. At only eleven, Doctor’s wired my brother’s jaw shut for six weeks, preventing him from speaking or eating solid food. When there was an inquiry by hospital staff into the injury, we all lied, claiming he'd fallen down the stairs, but everyone knew the truth, even if they feared my father too much to speak up.
Killian’s healing journey was painful, and there were also lasting effects, mainly nerve damage, which affected his speech. A thick, ragged scar branded the abuse along his jaw. Despite meeting with specialists weekly, his language remained clumsy and lacked skill because of lasting nerve pain, so he preferred to communicate via a visual-manual language that we had invented while his jaw had been wired shut.
Neither of us knew sign language, so we pieced together actual signs and made-up hand signals to create a language that only we understood. Even as adults, we often communicated that way, or Killian opted simply to grunt in a caveman fashion.
Despite my father’s physical abuse lessening into adulthood, the verbal abuse and complete control he exerted over us remained.
General Green drummed his fingers on the sturdy mahogany desk as he scanned Rowan’s paperwork. He had pulled her file from the Arca database. I had already briefed myself with whatlittle information that was known about her during the ride to his office and long-wait in the lobby.
She was older than most omega deserters. Arca often caught them near or during their first heat. As soon as they went into heat, they would quite literally throw themselves at the closest alpha, begging to be knotted.
At 26, Rowan had avoided detection for a long time. Talon suspected she had remained undetected through the use of illegal suppressants, which would have masked her scent and quelled her heat. Her listed address was No-Man's-Land, so I assumed she must have lived off-grid to help conceal her designation and grow weepingviolet. Those woods were full of illegal plant farms.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” My father remarked, his gaze lingering on her photo while scanning the file.
His eyes lit up and stared at the image for too long. I gritted my teeth, stifling my anger. I already felt protective of Rowan and didn’t even like him looking at her picture.
“Yes, she is,” I responded dryly.
“I tried to set your pack up with an omega from the Training Center. They're conditioned impeccably. Why exactly are you planning to keep this feral criminal when you wouldn’t even entertain my offer to find you a suitably trained omega? Most men would kill for one, but you always turned me down. You could exchange her with a trained one from the center,” my father questioned as he finally closed the file between a manila envelope.
Before I could answer, he continued, “Do you even actually plan to mate her, or is this just a tactic to buy more timefor Killian’s recovery? You know Arca is getting impatient and wants your unit back at the Border Front Base.”
I briefly wondered if there was ever a time that our father actually cared about Killian or me. He was completely insensitive to Killian's near-death experience and viewed him as a commodity rather than his own flesh and blood.
Ignoring his insinuation, I responded, “This one is fine. Ryker seems keen to break her in; it won’t take long.”
My crude response seemed to satisfy him as he chuckled, signed the paperwork, and passed me the file, which contained the seizure warrant. He then dismissed me, saying, “Close the door on your way out,” and not sparing me another glance, as he busied himself with more paperwork. I left quickly, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than absolutely necessary.
My phone chimed on the way back to the dorms:
Talon: We got her here. She’s at the Medical Wing.
She's having an adverse reaction to the sedative. The doctor needs her history.
When are you going to be back with her file?
I rubbed my temples in frustration. I had specifically told them not to dose her with Talon’s shifter sedatives. The Arca scientists did not design them for use on omegas, and they were only to be used in the rare case Talon lost control of his wolf, which had never occurred.
Something told me Ryker was most likely to blame.
I texted him back, telling him I would be there shortly.
Chapter 10: Rowan
Three Days Later
Fear washed over me as my hazy vision focused. I couldn’t move or feel my body, and my head pounded. Was I lying down or sitting up? The room spun as I tried to gather my bearings. Sterile lights blinded me, and hushed voices moved around the space. I listened to what they were saying but couldn’t make out the words. Trying to remember how I got here caused the vision of two glowing yellow eyes to materialize, eliciting a scream from my lungs.
I panicked trying to move, but my limbs were heavy and clumsy. My uncoordinated hand clawed at the IV that was tapedto my arm. I pulled it out at an angle, causing a rush of blood to trickle out.
The room came alive; more lights flickered on, and the hushed voices got louder as people wearing white medical uniforms gripped my shoulders, pushed me down and applied pressure to the IV wound. Tears ran down my face, and my chest rose erratically as I sobbed, begging to know where I was and what was going on. Nurses tethered me to the bed as restraints slipped and tightened around my wrists and ankles. The restriction of my movement caused me to panic even more.
Over my bawling and the surrounding chaos, a faint rhythmic noise sounded, and grew louder. The noise quickly became the only sound I heard, surrounding me in warmth and comfort. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, my breathing even out, and my sobbing subside until only brief hiccups and sharp intakes of breath remained from my panic attack. As I calmed and my vision broadened, I saw the origin of the rhythmic rumbling noise.
A man was sitting next to my bed, alpha purring. I remembered the sound from my childhood. My dad used to purr for me on nights when I was having trouble falling asleep, or scared during a loud thunderstorm. When I saw an Arca logo on the man’s shirt, I started wailing again, but his purr was like Valium, evening me out with a firm control of my emotions, until my tears subsided altogether.
“Rowan, look at me,” an authoritative and rugged voice commanded.
