Page 105 of Roguefinder

Caleb sagged under the straps, his chest heaving. His groan filled the operating room.

“Better,” Carlo said. He drifted toward me, the candlelight flickering in his glassy eyes. “I’ve never bottled a wolfseeker. Your blood will fetch a high price.”

I threw my weight against the manacles. The wall at my back groaned, and little stones pattered down around my bare feet. The restraints held.

“Who are you selling it to?” I asked. “Besides Pyotr Zarins?”

Carlo turned away and motioned to the pets. “Start a collection. I want to run tests.”

The men sprang into action like he’d fired a starter pistol. The one with the buzz cut pulled a metal cart to the operating table. Alonzo spun a rolling chair to Caleb’s side, sat, and ripped open an alcohol swab.

The sharp scent cut through the smoke and wax. Caleb roused and rolled his head toward Alonzo.

“You know what you and that alcohol swab have in common?”

Alonzo narrowed his eyes.

“You’re both about to get nowhere near my arm.”

Carlo motioned to buzz cut. The pet slapped Caleb hard across the face.

I surged against my bonds. The wall groaned behind me, and a handful of stones pattered down around my feet. “Get your fucking hands off him!”

Caleb stared at the pet with murder in his eyes.

Alonzo grabbed his jaw and forced Caleb’s gaze to his. “Stay still or I’ll knock you unconscious.”

My control slipped another inch. Colors swirled at the edges of my vision, my beast clawing up my spine and flooding my head with static. The silver was a double-edged sword: it riled my wolf into a frenzy and blocked the shift at the same time. If I lost myself to my beast, I’d leave Caleb unprotected.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” I said, wrestling for control. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Carlo tipped his head to the side, the gesture quick like a bird’s. His round eyes went thoughtful. “I thought it would take a great deal of effort to make you turn rogue.” He slid his gaze to Caleb and back. “But you’re smitten with the boy.”

Alonzo hung a collection bag on the IV pole. The empty plastic swayed, catching the candlelight.

The pet with the buzz cut looked at Carlo. “How much do you want us to take, signore?”

“Two units to start.”

Caleb lifted his head off the table. His eyes had gone the icy shade of his wolf, and he snapped his teeth at Alonzo with an audible click. “Get a needle anywhere near me, and I’ll eat your face.”

Alonzo paused, needle in hand, and looked at Carlo. “I won’t be able to draw with him struggling, signore.”

Time. I needed to stall. Carlo had no intention of letting either of us live. I had to keep him talking. Flattery and curiosity were my only currencies. He was running a sophisticated operation that had clearly taken a great deal of planning. Maybe he’d confess how he’d accomplished it—and why he’d ended up with vials of Ulfrik’s blood. Every sentence he spent performing for me was a sentence his pets weren’t spending on Caleb.

And a sentence I could use to find a way out.

“What are you doing with the blood?” I asked.

Carlo offered a thin smile. “You want me to brag about the cleverness of my operation, van der Meer?”

“Call it whatever you want. What are you doing with werewolf blood? You bottle it and sell it?”

Caleb thrashed against the straps, setting the table rocking.

Carlo looked at Alonzo. “Shock him.”

My heart stopped.