Half-Blooded | The Dark Child Prophecy Series [✔️]

Chapter 29: Heathens

I didn't know how long I was out. It felt like days. The only sounds my brain registered were drip-drops of liquid falling, the slow and steady cadence of beeping from machinery, and a distant hum. I thought I could hear voices, but they were often too muddled to process. The few times I had felt my body stir, the pain had been too much. Something held onto my wrists, cutting into them. My head and neck felt like lead. There was a dull hum of agony running through my muscles that spiked anytime I was touched. Sharp, stinging sensations kept nibbling at the tender skin on my forearms and the backs of my hands, like insects biting.

I pushed against the pain, forcing my brain back into consciousness. My eyes strayed open, staring blindly as I tried to make sense of what was around me. Metal, shiny surfaces, the smell of antiseptic, and I didn't have to inhale to know what the red splotches on the walls and floor were.

Am I bleeding?

The thought sounded so weak that I didn't even recognize it as my own.

"Rise and shine, Miss Mezdor," came the sound of a female voice. Its tone seemed familiar: cold, uninviting, and harsh.

I know you, my mind whispered. I fought to focus my vision, trying to tune out the mumbling machinery noise that flooded my ears. I blinked hard, but it hurt as if there were razor blades on my eyelids. I honed in on the figure sitting across from me, holding something clear. There was liquid swirling around its base. I squinted, ignoring the agony that flooded my body as it became aware of the damage done to it. I tried to take in her scent: clover, musk, wet moss, and cinnamon. My vision focused on her face. Dark hair, olive skin, and her eyes... Indigo.

Victoria Hellmuth.

I started to growl, but the noise caught in my throat and I began to cough. My throat felt dry as sandpaper. It was like choking as my vocal chords screamed for liquid. Victoria's head dropped back and she giggled. Anger overtook my weaknesses and I tried to lunge at her, but pain flared in my wrists. I turned my head, focusing to see it was restrained with metal. Dark purple and green bruises radiated across my pale skin. I checked my other hand, also shackled. I went to bend a knee and felt my ankle catch. I tried to lean forward to look.

Sheer agony suddenly rushed over me in a wash of absolute torment the moment my head bent forward. Somehow I managed to wince. Angry, I struggled again, shaking my whole body to make the chains jingle loudly. I coughed again, finding saliva had finally made its way back into my throat.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked, my voice rough and hoarse. It didn't sound like me.

She grinned with closed lips and shrugged one shoulder, sipping her wine slowly. When she lowered it back to her side, Victoria switched her legs to be crossed differently. "I told my son that I wanted to learn how your body operates, how much of the Wolf you hold in your blood. But, because he can't stop making moon-eyes at you, I have had to resort to doing things my way," she answered. "He could have done this himself—I ordered him to—but he has a soft spot for you, I suppose. I don't know why."

Victoria got to her feet, sitting her glass down. She walked across the distance between us and inspected my body. I was restrained in an X-shape on a tilting table, stripped down to my workout leggings and sports bra. I felt like a twisted version of a deer strapped to the hood of a car mixed with Frankenstein's monster. Maybe in some sick way I was, the medical marvel that had not been thought possible. She walked around behind me, out of eyesight, before she rounded back to my other side.

"You are a pretty girl," she added. "Of course, not right now with all that blood and bruising. But I suppose my son can see some use in finding you attractive. He's like his father in that regard, always finding some pretty little bitch to stroke his ego for a night. At least he has restraint."