Obey or pay. Seems to be his theme.
I roll my eyes, so tired of the blade’s edge I’ve been perched on. And for what? A broken heart? A lover’s need for petty retribution?
“Do you hear yourself?” I ask. “You went through one breakup and completely lost your shit. It’s ridiculous—”
His hand blurs with a movement too fast for my eyes to track.
I only know what he’s done when his palm makes contact with my cheek.
I gasp, the wind nearly knocked out of me at the force of just one blow.
Cutter leaps from his chair and roars, canines suddenly lengthened as he hisses at me. Shrinking back in my chair, I try to breathe. And think. And come up with some response that won’t end with my throat ripped out right here where I sit.
“You can still do the right thing,” I half-whimper.
He doesn’t answer, but after several ragged breaths, he backs away and returns to his seat.
My face stings where he struck me, and my skull throbs from the earlier abuse I endured. But through it all, I force myself to think.
There must be a way out.
Around me, the spirits of the departed weep and mourn, but I don’t see Genevieve among them. The idea that she has given up and abandoned me to my fate is almost too much to bear.
I look up as Cutter’s expression clears. He cocks his head as if listening to something I can’t hear. A second later, the door opens and Nurse Schmidt walks in followed by Sir and Logan.
My eyes widen at the sight of the doctor, and I bite back his name on my tongue.
But it wouldn’t matter.
His eyes are glazed over with the evidence of whatever illusion Schmidt has spun around him.
They each push a wheeled gurney with a body draped in a sheet.
I strain to see the faces of the newcomers, but they’re completely covered.
“Any problems?” Cutter asks.
“None,” Schmidt assures him.
“Good, set them up and let us begin. I’m ready to finish this.”
Schmidt, Sir and Logan position the gurneys, two on one side of where Cutter and I sit, and one on the other. Logan backs away until he stands against the far wall. I try to catch his eye, but he refuses to look at me. His expression is slack, his eyes empty as he stands at the ready, hands folded in front of him.
“What did you do to L—Dr. Livingstone?” I correct myself at the last minute, reluctant to let them know how close we’ve gotten. Instead, I glare at Schmidt, but she ignores me and instead reaches for the sheet covering the closest patient.
Her smug gaze flicks to me as she rips off the first sheet followed quickly by the second.
My eyes widen at the sight of Dean and Declan lying unconscious on the gurney. They’re human again, each wearing only a pair of gym shorts.
“Dean? Declan?” I call.
But they don’t stir.
“What have you done to them?” I scream.
I start to get up, to rush to their aid and maybe even take Nurse Bitch down once and for all, but she moves faster than me.
With a snap of her fingers, metal restraints wrap around my wrists and ankles. I fight against them, the metal clasps digging into my flesh. Cutter grunts his approval. Panic surges through me, sweat prickling my freezing cold skin.
Youcantwinyoucantwin.
Hehasyounow.
Hehasusall.
Hewillllneverletusgo.
The voices are so loud I can hardly hear myself think. I would cover my ears, but my hands are trapped, and it wouldn't help anyway. They are in me, around me, part of me. They are calling for me, and I feel them more deeply than I ever have before.
Cutter's eyes sharpen as he studies me. "You are tapping into the others. This is good. This is what must happen."
Shit.
Don't give him what he wants.
I mentally will the voices to quiet, to give me a chance to think.
When Sir uncovers the final patient, my body sags against my chair, my heart breaking all over again.
“Estelle,” I whisper, staring at the motionless body of my sister.
Everyone I love is in this room. Everyone I have left in this world. And he is going to use them all for his sick, twisted experiments.
“Hook them up,” Cutter orders, and Schmidt goes to work connecting Dean, Declan and Estelle to a series of tubes that lead into whatever’s inside the cage on the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask, hoping it’s nothing more than the same illusions Schmidt used to torture me before. Memories. Past hurts. Nothing that can actually do us harm.
“What must be done,” Cutter says cryptically, but I ignore him, my eyes tracking Schmidt’s every move.
When she’s finished, Dean, Declan and Estelle are splayed out on their respective gurneys, arms and legs restrained, a leather strap securing their heads to the metal frame of their wheeled beds.
“Wake up,” I yell, but they remain unresponsive. I don’t have much hope Estelle will respond to me, but the boys…they are strong, they can fight this.
"Let them go," I hiss, struggling against my own restraints.
"Would that I could," Cutter says. "But they are necessary for what must happen next. All this time, watching how the wolves’ gifts play off one another, how they are most powerful together.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I should have known it would take them both to make this work. The Woodland twins and the D’LeLune twins. It’s a beautiful kind of symmetry isn’t it?”
“You won’t get away with this,” I say, but even I can see my threats are futile now.
He stands, approaching me, and produces a needle that he sticks into my arm, then attaches it to another tube. He then pulls off the cover from the birdcage, and I gasp at what's been hiding within.
A beating heart lies on a platter inside the narrow bars. All of the tubes now connected to me, Estelle, and the twins lead to the heart that pulses of its own accord.
Alive but unattached.
I think of Maria and my eyes fill with tears.
"What the hell is this?" I ask.
I look around, wondering if this is another illusion set up by the lovely Nurse Evil.
As if reading my mind, Cutter smiles. “After so many illusions, this is what’s real. You have proven that you can transfer your powers. Now, you will do so again, or your loved ones will die.”
“Whose heart is it?” I ask, my voice thick. With fear. With grief for the lost. With resignation. Because I already know, to save those I love, I will do what he asks of me.
“You don’t recognize the family resemblance?” Cutter grins. “This is Genevieve. Or what’s left of her.”
Bile rises in my throat as I recall the memory of him ripping out her heart and taking it with him. He’s had it all this time? And somehow kept it alive?
He leans forward. “Now, give me your power, Celeste. Or I’ll hurt the ones you love most. And I’ll start with him.”
He turns to Logan and beckons him forward.
The doctor closes the distance, steps wooden but unflinching.
Cutter stands and, in a blur of movement, positions himself at Logan’s back, an arm snaked around the doctor’s chest to hold him still. Cutter’s fangs elongate and he leans in, positioning himself just above the doctor’s throat.
“I can’t,” I say, desperate now. “I don’t know how to call my power up. You saw what happened with the wolves.”