Boundaries

Tish: tick tick boom

{Tish}

I woke up a little later. It didn't feel like much time had passed; my hand wasn't as swollen as I thought it would be. I was foggy and discombobulated but managed to pull my hand out of the restraint. Using my broken hand to pull the other buckle loose was agonizing, but I managed to do so without making a sound, gritting my teeth against the pain. Once that was done, I could rip the IV out of my hand and unbuckle myself from the bed. They clearly didn't account for the werewolf metabolism.

I waited on the bed for a while, panting a little while I waited for my brain to lose some of the dizziness before attempting to get up. I couldn't shift, not with this collar. I still had my werewolf strength, perhaps I could attempt to partially shift. Mostly, I wanted to get out before Sasha came back and shocked me until I couldn't move.

With that thought, I pulled my weakened legs off the bed and onto the floor, standing up with wobbly awkward motions. I shuffled to the door and opened it, peering out into the office of lab tables, beakers, and vials and vials of blood. I could smell that most of it were mine.

The room was mostly dark as I shuffled along, using the countertops as my crutch. Whatever they had drugged me with was potent.

"They weren't kidding about a werewolf metabolism," said a voice in the dark.

I froze but could hear that the person was still moving towards me. I took a deep breath in, but all I could smell were chemicals and my blood. I should have been able to smell something of the person stalking me. My unbroken fingers ran along the edge of the table seeking something sharp.

"Tish, you're half drugged, and there's nowhere to go," the voice said again. "Be reasonable."

I couldn't say anything if I wanted to. My fingers closed around a pair of cold metal scissors, and I picked these up, listening for the footsteps since I couldn't smell them. When they stopped, I wheeled around and stabbed the scissors with all my strength, embedding in the shoulder of Sasha's assistant. He pulled the scissors out with a growl, throwing the scissors across the room. I stumbled back; I wasn't so weak that he should have been able to get up afterward, and my slow brain finally clicked why I couldn't smell him: vampire.

He punched me like a person who had never thrown his fist before, but it still pushed me back into the tables, slamming my broken hand into the drawers with a painful bang.

I tried to suppress the cry that escaped my lips, but I was shocked by my collar anyway. The distraction let the man grab my arm in a vice grip and begin dragging me back to the room I was being held. I grabbed his leg and yanked it, my hunter training finally making itself useful. The man tripped, and while he was scrabbling, I reached for a beaker, breaking it along his face. He fell back, and I grabbed something from the table and pressed it through his sternum as hard as I could, not stopping until he stopped screaming and was still. The ruler would not have been my first choice, but it got the job done. The slices on my palms dripped blood everywhere.

Still, I didn't know if Conor was safe, didn't know where anyone was. I tumbled out of the labs and staggered to the elevator, pressing my bloody palm to select the medical floor. I was sitting on the ground by the time the doors opened again, and I had to scramble to get off on the correct floor, holding my broken fingers to my chest as I made it to Conor and Ralph's room.

"Tish!" Peter jumped up and helped me into a seat. "Are you all right? Oh my god, they collared you. Is that your blood?"

I looked down at my appearance and shrugged.

"Peter, go get Victor," Ralph told him as Ralph scooted from his bed to the wheelchair. "Tish, come here, dear. Hop up, I'll get you a towel to wipe some of that blood off you."