Chapter 24

Robbie’s POV

"Wake up. You aren't dead yet, so stop acting like it."

The girl had been out cold for an entire day after her little brush with an allergic reaction. I had kept her cuffed to the bed frame while Royal was away. I had zero interest in playing nurse, even if Philip had suggested I keep an eye on her. I brought her a tray of food earlier, mostly because I didn't want a corpse on my hands just yet, but she hadn't touched it. The plate sat cold on the table, exactly where I’d left it.

Night had finally fallen. It was the perfect window to put my plan into motion without the others breathing down my neck. Philip had come home late from the office, looking drained. He ate a quick dinner with Ripley and me before disappearing into his room. Once he shuts that door, he stays put until sunrise unless the house is literally burning down. Ripley was out on a perimeter sweep, checking the pack’s security lines. He wouldn't be back for hours. With Royal and Rory still gone, the house was mine.

I stepped into her room. The air felt heavy and still, the only sound being her shallow, steady breathing. She was still asleep. I didn't use my hands to wake her. I reached out and shoved her thigh with the toe of my boot. It wasn't a kick, just a firm enough nudge to break her rhythm.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she squinted up at me, looking dazed.

"Get up," I said. "You're coming with me."

She sat up with the speed of a snail. Every movement looked like it took a massive amount of effort, which only made my jaw tighten. I didn't have all night for her to find her footing.

"Move it," I snapped. "Now."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. I noticed the way her bandaged feet shook when they hit the hardwood, but she didn't let a sound escape. She didn't even grimace. She just stood there, staring at the floor. She was good at hiding the hurt. I wondered how long that would last once we got where we were going.

I turned my back on her and walked out, knowing she’d follow. We headed toward the rear of the estate, moving past the darkened windows of the main house toward the stables. Most of our land was thick, heavy forest. We liked it that way. Even with all the money and tech we had, we were wolves at the core. We needed the woods.

The night air was sharp and biting. The moment we stepped outside, she shivered violently. Her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to trap whatever heat she had left. She was still wearing that thin, oversized hospital gown. It hung off her frame like a rag on a nail, fluttering in the wind and exposing her pale, bruised skin. I didn't offer her a coat. I didn't even slow down.

She was barefoot, her bandages soaking up the dampness of the grass and the grit of the gravel path. I could hear her breathing getting heavier behind me, a ragged, wet sound that spoke of total exhaustion. By the time we reached the equipment shed near the back of the stables, she was coated in a fine layer of sweat despite the cold.

I pulled the shed door open and jerked my head toward the dark interior. "Inside."

She hesitated, her eyes darting toward the shadows. She wasn't stupid. She knew this wasn't a midnight stroll.

"Relax," I said, my voice flat and bored. "I’m not interested in touching you that way. Just get in. I’m losing my patience."

She dragged herself over the threshold. The shed smelled of dry hay, old leather, and oil. I stepped in after her and kicked the door shut, latching it. Dim lanterns hung from the rafters, casting long, flickering shadows over the stacks of horse blankets and crates of gear. I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from against the wall and slammed it down in the center of the floor.

"Sit," I ordered.

She dropped into the chair without a word. Her spine was stiff, her hands clutching the edges of the seat. I walked to the far corner where I kept my private collection. After I walked away from my medical degree, I needed something to occupy my mind. Building these tools had become my outlet. Over time, I’d added live elements to the kit. Scorpions, snakes, and a few specific types of spiders. They were more effective than any blade at breaking a stubborn spirit.

I pulled the tarp off the cages.

I heard her breath hitch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her go pale. Her mouth opened as if she were about to beg, but she swallowed the words before they could come out. I ignored her. I dragged my heavy metal toolbox over and set it at her feet with a loud thud. Then, I pulled out a roll of heavy-duty duct tape. I didn't waste time with ropes. I taped her wrists and ankles to the frame of the chair until she couldn't move an inch.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I already told you," I said. "This isn't about sex. It’s about answers."

I stood over her, watching the way her eyes darted around. I could see the pulse jumping in her neck.

"Tell me everything about the Epsilon pack," I said. "I want the secrets. I want the vulnerabilities. I want every detail that helps us wipe them off the map."

She looked me right in the eye. "I don't know anything about them. I’ve never even been to their territory."

I leaned in closer. "Lie to me again and see what happens. Why did you sell us out to Rowen? What was the price? Did he promise to make you his little queen? Or did you just like the way he treated you in bed enough to betray us?"

"I don't know him," she insisted, her voice rising with a hint of desperation. "I didn't do any of those things. Someone set me up."

I reached out, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked her head back. She let out a sharp cry of pain as I forced her to look at me. My face was inches from hers.

"Don't play the victim with me," I hissed. "We know he had you. We know what happened. And yet you're sitting here acting like a stranger to him?"

Tears started to pool in her eyes. "I'm telling the truth. Please."

I let go of her hair and backhanded her across the face. Her head snapped to the side, and a red mark began to bloom on her cheek. I had no time for female theatrics. I’d seen enough women use tears to get what they wanted. I was finished being the guy who fell for it.

"Save the crying for someone who cares," I said. I turned back to the toolbox and pulled on a pair of black surgical gloves. I laid out a row of silver tools on the lid of the box. Pliers. Long, thin needles. A serrated hunting knife. "Last chance. Start talking."

"I've told you everything I know," she sobbed, her whole body shaking.

"Fine," I muttered. "We'll do it the slow way."

I picked up one of the smaller glass cages from the shelf. Inside, two large tarantulas began to crawl over one another, their thick, hairy legs tapping against the glass. The moment she saw them, her face transformed into a mask of pure terror. She tried to pull her hands away from the tape, her breathing turning into frantic, high-pitched gasps.

Arachnophobia. It was a hell of a motivator.

"You really should have just answered the question," I said, sliding the lid of the cage back just an inch.