Novel Name : Rejected Mate and Following Fate - Awakening Book

Rejected Mate and Following Fate - Awakening Book Chapter 38: Is She Here?

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“You can untie her, Doc, she can eat, but she stays confined in here until we decide what should be

done with her. I still want a name and pack. I need to know what kind of threat she is, or they pose. I’ll

be back soon. I need to contact Alpha. Santo. and get direction concerning our intruder. He’ll want to

be informed.”

My heart literally stops beating in my chest, and I have to stop myself from gasping out loud at the

words that come out of his mouth. My insides self-combust, and my blood freezes in my veins, as my

mind comes to a complete standstill on those two little terrifying words.

Alpha Santo! Juan! There is no other Santo pack in these parts, and his resemblance isn’t coincidental.

Why Colton kept coming to mind is now glaringly obvious. This is Juan’s facility, which can only mean

one thing. Deacon is a Santo, it explains the assholes bad attitude and shitty behavior, and possibly,

Sierra is not an invading dream because of Colton’s telling me about her before I left him. She’s been

calling me somehow, from these four walls, and led me right to her. There’s no other explanation for

how this all ties up like this. The fates wouldn’t just let this casually happen.

I don’t understand how, or even why, or that she managed to do it from inside an isolation tank, but

there’s no other logic for this kind of crazy coincidence. This is a Santo building, a facility, so many

miles, and days away from the mountain, but close enough for Juan to have his reach. Doubt he has

many facilities in our lands, and I didn’t just come upon this by chance. I start wondering how much of

this was orchestrated by the fates, and I don’t mean from the second I turned East. I mean all of it, and

how I was led here from the day of my turning.

I’m so screwed though. Once Juan knows I’m here, it’s going to be game over. He might actually send

me to the same fate as Sierra, wherever she is, and leave me to rot in here along with her for the next

ten years. It’ll be the answer to the dilemma of my pairing with his son. Keep me locked up, and keep

Colton safe, it’s not like anyone’ll miss me if I too disappear for a decade.

The doctor moves over me as soon as Deacon leaves us alone, his face apologetic, with a softness to

his grey eyes that I didn’t notice before. He has a kindness, in the wrinkles and lines around his eyes

and mouth, that suggest he genuinely smiles a lot in his life. With a worried glance at my face, and a

smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he whispers in a shaky voice, revealing his own fears.

“Please, don’t react when I remove these, I don’t want to have to sedate you again, and I don’t know if

I’ve a strength to match you, even in human form. I swear, I mean you no harm. Let’s keep this civil.

You play nice, we play nice. It doesn’t have to be hostile.” He doesn’t trust me, and even though in

here, I have no gifts, he’s wary of me. He’s human for sure, and he knows what we are capable of,

which means he’s probably witnessed it to be this kind of afraid. I find it weird they even have a mortal

here, but I guess the wolf world has a shortage of crazy doctors to keep Juan’s mate hidden with.

Packs are family, and it’s rare to find sub packs who keep secrets from the rest, especially among one

as big as the Santos. I guess humans are easier to keep quiet.

I nod and relax my body in a bid to show him I’ll behave, and he seems to pick up on it, his smile

strengthening, and his face relaxes. I can almost taste the tension seeping out as he leans in to undo

the first buckle.

He makes fast and light work of releasing me from the bed and jumps back cautiously when he unties

the last ankle strap, eyeing me from a distance as I slowly sit up and regain my bearings. It takes a

minute, and my head swims as I level up, aware I have only this gown on to cover my modesty, and it

falls forward off my shoulders as I move, telling me it’s not even tied at the back. They must have

thrown it on before restraining me, and I reach back to pull it together again.

“Just let me go. I’m not interested in this place or your work. I have my own plans and route. I’ll happily

get back to that.” I point out, trying to sound sincere, but the old man’s eyes narrow and he frowns at

me, shaking his head apologetically.

“Oh, my dear, I’m afraid I’m not the one who makes those kinds of decisions, or I would show to the

door with a wave and a sandwich. The problem is, we can’t let you go without being sure all of that is

true. No one’s come up here in ten years without invitation, and yet here you are, not just a regular silly

trekker or lost hiker…. but a wolf. A solitary femme, which is quite unusual in itself given pack hierarchy

and the female role in your world, but a rare white form at that. Remarkable. I’m afraid it’s all a little too

suspicious given the circumstances.” His voice is hushed, as I guess he doesn’t want Deacon, or

whoever watches the camera, to hear and the real serious concern etched in his eyes shines out. He

has a trusting quality about him that’s tingling my sixth sense and telling me he’s not one of the bad

guys.

“What circumstances would that be?” I match his expression, a little churning of suspicion of my own as

I take in his manner and the way he seems to be deflating a little, his posture sagging as he turns

towards the wall. He stops at the food trolley and pushes it towards me with a fake smile.

“We’ve been testing such unusual DNA for years, and a rare specimen falls right in my lap. It’s almost

like the fates ordained it, or maybe a little spy came to gather intel for a rival pack? My work up until

now has been a secret, and protected, but you found us…. An elusive rare white.” He rises his brows,

suspiciously, and I fiercely glare at him as his tiny accusation filters through and offends me on a

serious level.

“I’m no spy, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m white, because much like my mother, I

lack a pigment… it’s not rare because it’s special, it’s a flaw! Diluted bloodline, or some nonsense, and

not actually desirable at all. In my world, I’m an outcast because I’m inferior, so screw your theory. No

one cares about that kind of intel, least of all me.” It’s an angry outburst with a basis in old wounds and

heartache and I croak with a raw harsh tone in my voice, biting back a surprising tear as it comes out.

My own inferiority issues peeking and taking the form of rage.

The doctor begins to laugh, like I said something ridiculous, his wide eyes, and startled, his expression

completely unnerves me and throws me off.

“A flaw? By whose standard, dear child? Hybrid blood is spectacular, and a masterpiece of engineering

science, my dear. I don’t know who’s been keeping you in the dark all these years with such nonsense,

but white… it’s not a flaw. In a breed where you own physical perfection and can selfheal the worst of

wounds and illness. You think your DNA would allow such atrocity, by defect? No, of course it wouldn’t,

it couldn’t. Your own gifts work out the kinks in your make up, from the second you’re born. It’s the

bonding perfection between two species and happens only when the biochemistry of a particular set of

genes lines up in a magical way. Two species, two blood types, merging beautifully in one captivating

dance that produces a new third, equally magnificent species. You, my dear… are what I have been

dying to test for the last decade!! It’s a near impossible combination to make stick without awful

deformities, or even loss, and your kind are few and far between. Whoever first engineered your

astounding DNA must have been incredibly talented. Tell me, are you a first generation, or are you a

natural born?” That grand speech, and whooshing of over excitable words, floors me. I try and absorb

half of what that word junkie threw at me, and I’m still sitting blinking at him as my brain catches up the

translation from freak talk to plain English.

“You’re lying. I don’t know what you’re talking about, or half of what you said, but I know hybrids aren’t

a thing.” Terror overtakes me as his words filter in, and my mind refuses to digest what he’s saying,

because it’s simply wrong. The wolves pride their bloodlines and purity, it’s a massive part of our being

and hierarchy.

Mixed breeds don’t exist, because if they did, the pure bloods would destroy them. They don’t want

dilution and mongrels among our blood. They’re bad enough when weak DNA like my families infects a

pack, and those people become calm land workers with no urge to fight and dominate. It’s why the

Whyte pack never had any kind of claim to the mountain as a ruling pack and the Santos own it. Our

kind thrives on dominance, we need alphas and purity to survive.

The doctor clutches a flat hand to his chest, aghast. Eyes wide, an expression that translates offence.

“Lie. I never lie when it comes to science, my dear. I’m a bio chemist of the highest order with a special

interest in your kind. Dedicated my life to it and it’s all I research. Hybrids are my forte!! I would so love

to get your samples under my microscope and see if the stories are true, and show you for yourself, the

absolute wonder of your own genetics. Warring species in one body, and yet they seem to have

completely bloomed! I mean look at you…. utter perfection.”

My blood runs cold, my eyes raking him and trying to make sense of what he’s saying, so many

questions forming and gathering on my tongue. My head scrambling with the uncertainty that he might

actually be telling the truth. But that would make my mother…. I can’t even.

Deacon reappears unexpectedly, interrupting with the beep of the door before he enters, and throws us

both a strange look that suggests he doesn’t like whatever feeling we just gave him. The atmosphere is

tense, and the doctor seems to lose his enthusiastic energy and slinks back out of the way, probably

afraid to admit he told me way too much. I can tell, that despite co-habiting in this place, there’s no real

bond between them and the doctor is as wary of my prison guard as I am.

“Alpha. Juan. will be here in two days…. This one…. Her name is Alora, and interestingly, from our own

mountain, so take from that what you will. She isn’t going anywhere.” Deacon turns to me, a look of

disgust rippling across his face as he scowls at me, and everything inside of me seems to disperse in a

wave of numb. The fear claws through me that Juan knew exactly who I was with just one call and is

coming here personally to decide my fate. That’s not a good sign.

“The mountain….” The doctor whispers is so lightly under his breath I doubt Deacon hears him, but I

do, and catch that slight hint of recognition that flitters across his brow before he pushes it away and

locks his facial expression on blank.

Damn me for being a white wolf! That had to be the defining detail that gave it away. Maybe also the

fact he knows I’m missing now, and one lone femme, this close to home, was probably a no brainer.

I raise my brows at Deacon with false bravado as if to say, ‘so what?’ His eyes narrow at mine and the

scowl gets more prominent.

“So…. You’re a runaway from our own pack? Juan said he’s been looking for you, traitor. How

coincidental you end up here…. clearly looking for something you shouldn’t be! You’re going down to

isolation until he gets here, and then you can be someone else’s problem. Hopefully his, and I’m sure

he’ll find the perfect punishment for a flawed failure who betrayed her own kind.” I don’ doubt Juan has

conducted a whole new story about why I’m public enemy number one and arguing it is going to be

futile. Deacon is a believer, a loyal to Juan’s sub pack, and it’s boringly obvious. He was put here,

probably because he is one of the Juan brainwashed who do exactly as they are told, and questions

nothing.

Deacon grabs me by the upper arm ruthlessly, and hauls me off the bed forcefully, my body still a dead

weight and I almost fall on the floor with the sudden demand to use my limbs properly. Grabbing out to

catch myself and instantly overwhelmed with dizziness at being bolted upright.

“Careful, careful…. She’s a very special specimen and still a young lady. Kindness does not cost extra,

Mr. Deacon. Compassion. A little human dignity. If we have her for two days yet, then I need to harvest

samples for my studies and could use the time to learn more about her very unique blood! I can’t let

this opportunity go to waste, and I certainly can’t stand and watch you damage her.” The doctor is torn

between real human concern for a person, and that of a scientist with his eye on a prized lab rat. I can’t

even be mad about it, but it does open a window of opportunity.

“Doc, she’s our prisoner, not a study volunteer. She’s a betrayer of my blood and I’ll handle her as

such. The only place this chick is going, is down beside that mindless corpse they keep in bay two, and

out of bounds for you and your quack colleagues in the lab. If we’re lucky, she’ll stay as quiet as her

new roommate and be gone before she messes up anymore of my week.” Deacon is an asshole for

sure. He pulls me with him, not waiting for my legs to catch up and despite my inner desire to not touch

this idiot, I have to grab onto him or be dragged along behind him.

“Sierra is not mindless. She’s sedated and detained by you thugs and your lack of vision… she’s a

work of art, a person with feelings, and thoughts, and if Juan would only allow me to waken her and….”

“Enough!!! Shut your mouth!! That’s a dead name…. just like you will be if you talk about her again.”

Deacon barks at him hatefully, the tone scathing, and pins him with a forceful glare.

The Doctor recoils, scolded, and red faced but I can feel his simmering anger with the mention of

Sierra. The spark in him of real rage before he was shut down, and paces off to bubble under the

surface, grabbing a nearby rag, and twisting it between his hands as we pass him. I can tell he’s trying

so hard to hold his tongue.

I’m speechless though, my mind racing at the confirmation she’s here and my mouth runs dry. I don’t

fight Deacon as he bodily hauls me out the door at speed, no consideration that his grip is leaving

marks on my skin, or that I’m tripping over every step as I try to regain control of my walking ability. His

fingers biting into my arm as my legs, like jelly under me, try to keep up with his long fast stride. I end

up clinging to the side of him like a needy child, aware my gown is sliding off, and I catch sight of the

doctor one last time as he follows us out into the corridor and I strain back to see.

He looks sad, defeated, and as he watches me get dragged away, I lock my eyes on him one last time

as I clutch together a plan of sorts in my head that might give me a tiny hope of getting out of this. I

throw him a desperate backwards second glance, an attempt to communicate.

“I volunteer…. take your tests. I want to know why I’m white, and I’m not going to be doing anything

else for two days.” I lie impulsively, loud enough for my voice to echo this hall. The doctor is a soft

touch and he knows something about Sierra too. Maybe I can convince him to let me go, or to see her

to figure out why she brought me here. It’s clutching at straws and my brain is scurrying to try and

figure how this will help, but it’s all I have in the moment. Deacon falters, stopping us mid step with an

exaggerated exhale of annoyance. He turns us to the doctor fully.

The doctor’s face lights up with a glow that tells me he might be my key to getting out of here, before

Juan shows up in two days, or at the least he may be a valuable ally if I can keep him latched onto my

unique so called ‘hybrid blood’. Might be able to manipulate him into revealing more or getting lax with

keeping me locked up. Deacon, I can tell is a lost cause, but the doctor, he just might be the weak link.

I don’t believe anything he said about being a hybrid though. I think he’s a crackpot scientist who has

sampled too many of his own test tubes from being in underground isolation, but if it gets me an angle

to lever a possible way out, then I’m going to play on it. I’ll play along and nod my head and let him

stick me with as many needles and swabs as it takes to win him around.

“See, see, she has no objections and it’s only some blood and smears and such. I will barely touch her,

and it won’t interfere with her time here at all. Juan will never know.” The doctor’s enthusiasm and

surge of newfound joy is energizing and solidifies my plan. Deacon scowls at him for the longest,

tensest moment, as I hold my breath and pray.

“She stays in bay one, you don’t take her anywhere else, and you are to be done before Juan gets

anywhere near here. Not a word to him about it, at all!” Deacon lays down the law, relenting, probably

for a quiet life, and it’s not like he’ll have to do anything.

The doctor nods enthusiastically, like an excitable puppy, and I remain calm and neutral, shielding the

sea of nerves rippling up inside of me. My heart is pounding, my insides trembling, but on the outside,

I’m cool and calm. I have a chance of breaking out and it’s keeping my wits about me.

I allow Deacon to turn me manually and haul me off through the door ahead of us to a second corridor,

pushing through the swing door with haste. I blink at the harsh change to lighting, opening my eyes

onto a white sterile passageway, with glossy surfaces, that shine bright, blinding with the force of the

daylight LED lights. It creates an optical illusion of a vast white wall less space that blinds your corneas

half to death with the intensity of the snow-white environment.

It’s like being in my dream, creepily so. The one in which I saw Sierra, and I’m dazed a little by the

surrealness of it. My heart rate escalates, my eyes raking around us as it starts to piece together and

bring back memories and details of that light space where I met her. Being pulled along mindlessly as

my thoughts drift repeatedly to her standing ahead of me, with no real sense of boundaries around us.

It’s too striking a resemblance to ignore.

The fates brought me here for a reason; they pushed me to run from Colton, and they hauled me east

so I can’t ignore it. Meadow always said the fates were never wrong, and all of this is way too

coincidental to be an accident, or to keep me as a non-believer. I’m here for a reason, and the dreams

I’ve been having about her, it all suddenly makes so much sense.

Save us.

She meant it… she meant us…her…and me… And Colton. He’s wavering without his mom.

We’re both here, and I seem to be the only one that can do anything about getting us

out.

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