Page 129 of Caged

This is a white-hot agony that turns my blood to acid and feels like my bones are melting.

I open my mouth to scream, but my throat is raw, and no sound passes my vocal cords.

Have I already been screaming? How long have I been unconscious?

My eyes blink open. I groan, trying to make sense of where the fuck I am and why it feels like someone lit a box of matches under my skin.

I was shot in the leg. That much I remember with agonizing clarity.

Silver.

But that doesn’t explain why every nerve ending in my body’s on fire.

My skin feels thin. Too tight, like I’m being skinned alive, each section methodically peeled away from muscle as blood boils in my veins.

I reach out an arm and pull up short when I don’t move. A few frantic jerks tell me I’m strapped down.

Alright. Can’t move my arms. Can’t move my legs. I try moving my head, but before I’ve so much as twitched, the room starts to spin, and bile coats the back of my throat.

I’m hit with the scents of cold air, mildew, metal, sweat, and the sickly-sweet scent of charred. I gag, realizing that last one’s my flesh burnt by the silver bullet when it tore through muscle and tissue.

Another wave of white-hot fire scorches through my veins. I clench my teeth, determined not to scream.

“That will be the silver working its way through your bloodstream.”

That voice. I know that fucking voice.

I bare my fangs in a snarl and struggle to lift my arms before remembering they’re fastened down.

Above me, some kind of harsh built-in recessed lighting flickers. My sight finally adjusts, and I’m able to make out more of my surroundings. I can’t see much. Only that I’m in a dark, dank room with thick stone walls that are dropping with condensation.

“You’re in my basement.”

Varenthrall’s unhelpful commentary comes from somewhere near my feet. I strain to get eyes on him, but another wave of fire rushes through my limbs. I bite down on my tongue so hard my mouth fills with blood.

“How very Bond Villain of you, Jonathan,” I seethe through shallow breaths. “I hope you’re ready to die once my pack gets here. I can already feel their desire for vengeance through the Bond. They’re fucking salivating for it.”

A lie. I can barely feel my own heartbeat over the blistering fire snaking through me.

Varenthrall laughs, like he thinks my threat is adorable.

The sound grates on my fucking ears. I’ve never wanted to throat punch someone just for fun so bad in my life.

“Oh, I won’t be here when your pack finally arrives.” He moves, walking into my line of sight. I tense as he reaches across my body but he only loosen one of the straps holding me down. It gives me flexibility to turn, so I do, pinning a furious glare on the monster standing over me.

“I’ll be long gone,” he repeats calmly. “So will my men.”

He glances over his shoulder, where I can hear something being dragged across the stone floor.

“My doctor as well, of course. Can’t leave him to be ravaged by you beasts. Not when he’s the one ensuring my message is delivered to your little band of—wait. What is it you call yourselves again?” I don’t answer. I’m not playing his games.

“Oh, that’s right,” he exclaims before rolling his eyes. “Bastards. How… tediously on the nose.”

He taps a finger on the crook of my elbow. There’s an IV inserted under my flesh. My eyes flick back to his and he smiles gleefully. “It’s Liquid silver, diluted with glucose saline. Works through a vampire’s bloodstream like lightning in a bottle.”

It’s like my body hears his words and reacts, another wave of pain hitting me so hard I arch off the table. My vision turns white and I swear I can actually feel my organs struggling not to shut down. It’s impossible not to give in to the fiery pain of the silver but I try. Fates, do I try.

“At first it’s just painful, as you’ve already deduced. But then, it burrows deeper and starts shutting down your system. Even the most powerful of your kind can’t last like this longer than a few hours.”