Broken Blood Read Free Page B

paled in comparison to what Gordon had done to Olivia. There was something other about her lying there unaware of reality. Something horrific in the way I could sense her brokenness even without her eyes open. I pictured myself lying there: unconscious, sick, mentally absent. And I shivered at the thought of putting up a fight—only to end up like her in the end.
    “If I give it to you—my blood, the bond—what are you going to do with it?” I asked quietly. I suspected I already knew the answer, but I didn’t trust my intuition any longer.
    “To do what you won’t,” he said with a shrug, as if the reason were so obvious. When I didn’t reply, he went on, “To rid us of the monsters.”
    “The monsters are among us,” I mumbled.
    “What?” His tone changed to something with a sharper edge.
    I shook free of the memory tugging at me. “Something my Aunt Vera said before she ... never mind. What do you want from me?”
    Steppe’s smile was sugar and acid and reminded me of Lindsey Lohan from Mean Girls . In a suit. Possibly wearing the same amount of concealer. “I want your blood. And your mind. And I want you to give both willingly.”
    Revulsion rocked through me and I shut my eyes against the wave. “And if I say no?”
    “That would be unwise.”
    “If I say no?” I repeated through clenched teeth, summoning determination I didn’t feel.
    Steppe’s smile remained intact as he explained, “The rest of your pack dies. One by one. But not until I make sure your bond is strong enough to feel every splice into their flesh and every drop of blood as they bleed out on my dirty floor.”
    He’d said “the rest” as if he’d already done it to several. But I hadn’t felt anything during my weeks alone.
    “You wouldn’t.” I crossed my arms, fully aware that, by calling his bluff, I might’ve just sealed the fate of an undeserving pack member. I stuck my chin out, refusing to back down but knowing I lacked the strength to see it through.
    Steppe’s chin jutted to match mine and he bent down so we were eye to eye. “I already have,” he said.
    My mouth opened but no sound came. He’d killed them? When? Which ones? My pulse raced while I struggled to accept it.
    Steppe’s nose wrinkled and I knew he’d finally caught a whiff of my skin, my breath. He was close enough to reach out and touch. I could see the pulse jumping steadily against the vein in his throat. Suddenly, I wished it would stop. Not pause, but completely halt in its attempt to shove this man’s life force through his body. I wanted to end him here and now. And walk out while the rest of this place crumbled behind me.
    The warped disgust that showed on my face was apparently taken for concession. Steppe pulled back and straightened, a satisfied set to his shoulders. “You need to detox before the transfer can take place. And we need to run some tests. My men will take you to your new quarters while the doctor prepares.” He walked to the sleeping man still hunched over the cot beside mine and shoved him.
    The man slipped over the edge of the bed, barley catching himself before he tumbled out of his rolling chair. The clipboard went flying, sliding along until it hit the wall and stopped. “Sandefur, get up,” Steppe said.
    Sandefur? I stared as the sandy-haired man righted his glasses and shoved to his feet. His eyes were wide as he took in the sight of me and then looked back at Steppe, his hands shaking.
    “Sir,” he said.
    “Take her to the prepared room for monitoring and healing,” Steppe said. “And then come find me to go over the numbers on the recording we sent.”
    “Yes, sir,” Mr. Sandefur mumbled. He bent over to retrieve his clipboard and smoothed his hair.
    Gordon turned to me. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
    My argument never made it to my lips before Gordon walked out.
    It’s official , I thought. I’m screwed.
    “Let’s go.” Mr. Sandefur’s tone sounded much more confident now that Steppe