Series: Lee Savino
Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
This is where the medicinal smell is coming from. Thom told me Paloma wasn’t well but hinted that she has the best medical care money can buy. Her illness has to be serious if there’s a room dedicated to a doctor’s visit here.
I take a moment to search the cabinet drawers. Boxes of medical gloves and syringes–everything a doctor or nurse would need to administer a dose of medicine.
The freezer is the sort pharmacists use to keep vaccines at a certain temperature. It holds shelves and shelves of vials filled with blue liquid.
Poison, my bear warns, but that makes sense. Human medicine would smell like poison to an animal. I force myself to open the door and take a sniff, to see if I can detect anything specific. The smell is razor sharp, like tiny blades cutting my nasal passages. Up close, even a human would be able to smell it. I know humans use harsh compounds to save lives–like chemo to target cancer cells–but this smells so wrong.
The sense of urgency to get to Paloma grows. Time is ticking away.
Right now the auction Thom’s running is the perfect distraction. I need to find her before the window of opportunity closes.
I shut the door, and move along. Paloma’s scent still hovers on the air, a siren call to me and my bear. I force myself to pace slowly, keeping an eye out for guards.
Her sweet floral scent grows stronger, and I know I’m close. Then I hear her voice.
“No,” she’s telling someone. “I want to stay in my room.”
I’ve reached the last corner. The hall ends twenty feet from where I stand. Paloma and a group of guards are arguing in front of a huge, round doorway.
These guys aren’t in suits like the bodyguards, but black military-like uniforms. Thom has a private army guarding his precious Paloma. Several of them are packing some serious heat.
“I’ll help you.” The biggest guard goes to take her arm. My eyes flare bright, and I have to fight to keep my bear from erupting.
“I can handle it,” Paloma snaps, and the man drops his hand. The movement saves his life. I’d have killed him if he touched her. “I can walk. Just leave me alone.”
“Go then.” The head guard–the one who tried force-feeding her last night–steps aside and Paloma disappears. The huge door swings shut behind her. It’s round, like the door to a bank vault. There’s a jarring snap when all the locks engage.
Looks like they locked Paloma in tight for the night.
The head guard orders his men to fan out. Some of them head out for patrol, but most of them stay with their backs to the door.
I could run and take most of them out in a surprise attack, but then I’d waste time breaking into that vault door. Plus, I’d alert the entire manse and there are at least thirty-five other guards roaming this property.
I need another way in.
I stroll back the way I came, and out into the garden again. Paloma’s room is at the far end of the west wing, in a literal stone tower. She’s locked away like a princess.
Guards patrol the perimeter, but they’re facing outward, as if expecting an attack from the road.
There’s plenty of footholds in the stone, and a bunch of ivy I can grip if I need. Werebears are great at climbing.
I wait until clouds drift over the moon and begin my ascent.
Paloma
Moonlight streams into my room. The window creaks and strands of ivy dance in the wind. I stand and look out at the night sky. I’d give anything to be able to open the window to the ocean breeze. I smack my hand against the shatter-proof glass in frustration, then plop on my bed, facing the night sky.
I’ve changed into a pink sleep set, so I can relax. My book’s on the nightstand, but I’m too on edge to settle in and finish it.
At least I’m alone. I used to hate being locked in my room, but now it’s a welcome reprieve. It’s my final night of freedom.
I rub my right arm. My biceps is sore from tonight’s injection. I’m woozy from my medicine.
A few years ago, after a normal check up and flu shot, I got so dizzy I had to lie down. Thom has hired doctors from every corner of the earth. They still don’t know what’s wrong, but narrowed it down to some sort of auto-immune disease. Thom restricts my internet access, so I can’t do any research on my own, but the cocktail of meds they inject me with every few days keeps the symptoms at bay.
On my most successful escape attempt, I got off the property, only to collapse within twenty-four hours. Extreme weakness is a side effect of the disease. I’ll need regular injections for the rest of my life to stay mobile. If I don’t get them, the weakness will spread until my organs shut down.